changeit | 02 ☢ hits you so much harder than you thought

spam } snafu

[He doesn't know whether to be grateful or worried that he got paired up so quickly. It's something to distract him from Simon, at least - Simon being here and being Simon all over everyone. It isn't that he's not happy to see him, it's just that - well. Politics make things complicated, and Simon wears politics like one of his bulky sweaters.]

[Snafu, he thinks, is not much for politics. Snafu, he thinks, is very simple while being very complicated all at one time. Snafu is going to be trouble.]

[This was something he knew already, but reading the file makes it certain. Never mind the fact that on reading it he feels a little dirty, as if he's become privy to someone's worst, darkest secrets. Which is more or less the case. Made worse by the fact that he doesn't think Snafu will care that he knows.]

[In the end, after a few hours of lying in bed thinking about too many things all at once, he decides to just get it over with. Sits in the mirror and carefully removes the mousse, because there's nothing worse than being caught in an in-between state. His anxiety is at an all-time high, his heart would be palpitating if it could, and now he's walking to Snafu's door. He can feel how pale he is, see the white of his eyes as other people can see them. But he doesn't stop until he's knocking.]

voice } gene

Hiya. I have to ask you something.

[It's not a nice something, exactly, but it's. He just has to ask it, all right.]

spam } enclosure

[After meeting with Snaf - a mixed bag, as he expects these meetings might be for a while - he wants to walk. To be alone, or as alone as he can be in a place like this, but to be outside, too - as outside as you can be indoors. The obvious solution to this is programming a wide, empty field with sparse treeline in the distance into the Enclosure and go for a long walk.]

[His gait is still not quite steady, his skin deathly pale, eyes dead white. But he's smiling in the face of the wind, even if this place isn't natural and he knows it.]

text } admiral

Dear Admiral,

You could've just asked.

For Steve, charcoal pencils of different softness. Pastels, in case he likes them.
For Eugene, foods he's used to. Some little figurine landmarks of Mobile, Alabama. A picture of what it looks like now.
For Snafu, his favorite cigarettes. Foods he's used to. Hand sanitizer.
For T'Pol, something to do with her hands. A stress ball? Sweaters.
For Philip, that board game we made.
For Chromie, book repair equipment. A nice sweater that fits well, plain with bulky knit. Forest green.
For Simon, two Bibles, one antique one, a nice one, gilt and all, one to mark up. I'll make the other part of his gift myself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I already asked you.

[He shifts forward, leans his cold hands on his cold knees, his cold eyes focused on the bright warm spot that is Snafu. In this moment he finds himself suddenly, vividly thinking of what he was, what he became during the Rising. On bad days he thinks he can remember what blood and sinew and brain tastes like, and on the worst days - days like today is becoming - he can't stop thinking about it. He thinks of Snafu in Lisa's place, then in Amy's. Then he just feels sick.]

Why did you ask? And are you bored? Two questions. I want answers to them both, please.

[It's the way he says please, as if it softens the demand, as if he has any any right to expect answers when he's just some green fuck assigned to force Snafu into change he never wanted or agreed to participate in. It's the way he leans forward and stares. He's no officer. He's not getting his answers. Snafu takes another drag on his cigarette, embers close enough to his fingers to feel the heat of them, then he flicks the smouldering butt straight at Kieren.]

Zombies're s'posed to be like rabid dogs, ain't they? Killers? Why the fuck're you so different?

[The butt hits him in the face, and he flinches. Doesn't move away, just squeezes his white eyes shut for the briefest of moments, to push it all away for the space of a blink. When he opens his eyes again, there's anger in him, but pushed down, stoked. For now.]

[He doesn't expect Snafu to respect him. He doesn't expect him to listen. But he also doesn't expect to be treated like trash. He's gotten used, he supposes, to being human again.]

Medication. Choices. Either or both, depends how much you want to hate me, I s'pose.

[How much do you want to hate me? he doesn't ask, because he expects he knows the answer.]

[Is it strength or weakness, the lack of reaction to that burst of sparks as the butt hits him? Snafu isn't sure. He eyes him with a kind of merciless scrutiny for a moment, then shrugs and glances away.

The answer to the unasked question is both a lot because of what Kieren stands for, everything he represents, the anger in his eyes, and also not at all, because Snafu doesn't really want to care about the warden enough for hate to come into it. Snafu hated the Japs because they were dangerous; hating Kieren would be like admitting his knowledge is a threat. It isn't. It means nothing. It's probably good Kieren doesn't ask the question. Not that he would have gotten the real answer, even if he had.]

You ain't special enough to waste my time hatin', boo.

Then what is?

[He clears his throat and leans back, rubbing the side of his neck absently. He remembers the file, all the little uglinesses, every tiny atrocity.]

Besides the Japanese. Besides the actual enemy, I don't understand what you hate, and I don't understand what you love, besides people like Gene.

Ain't that the kinda thing you got told in your file?

[Maybe it means just a fraction more than nothing, after all.]

Edited 2015-01-19 04:20 (UTC)

Not things like that. Not the little details. Not what you feel about what you do.

Why? Were you afraid?

[It's a stupid thing to say, just provoking, nothing more. But he can't help it. He's annoyed now, and he can't keep himself quiet.]

02 ☢ hits you so much harder than you thought

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