ArchivedLogs:Rehab

Rehab
Dramatis Personae Hive, Melinda, Tag, Tian-shin
In Absentia	2013-08-07 Followed by Tag delivery.
Location <NYC> Law Offices of Li and Associates - Chinatown / <NYC> Ming Liang Counseling and Rehabilitation - Chinatown
Though the sign outside provides an English translation of the firm's name (in small text), actually finding Li and Associates among the various suites in the building is not an easy matter without a modicum of Chinese literacy. From the bare concrete stairwell, the firm's door opens into a smallish reception area with a desk, a compact couch set, and a coffee table bearing a tea tray. The young receptionist looks up from her monitor and blinks rapidly at the new arrivals. Then she scrambles to her feet and bows "Welcome to the Law Offices of Li and Associates. How may I help you today?" Melinda is on a mission today. Tired of sitting around and /waiting/, she decides to do something and she's dragging Hive with her - at least that's how her tired, very stressed mind sees the situation. Time to act. She walks directly up to the desk of the receptionist, dressed in a pair of billowy navy slacks and a white, sleeveless button down blouse, her fingers curled around the small business card one of Li and Associates' newest lawyers gave her. She uses it to identify Chinese characters when possible, and as some type of reminder of reality the rest of the time. When the receptionist greets them, Melinda performs an awkward sort of bow, unexpectedly mimicking the other woman's movements, politely. "Hello. We're here to see Hua Tian-shin. Could you please let her know we are here?" Hive is dressed rather less nicely than Melinda is, on break from work and /looking/ like he is on break from work. Sturdy heavy boots, tough jeans, a blue flannel shirt unbuttoned and thrown on over a white sleeveless undershirt. If Melinda's mind is tired and stressed he /echoes/ that in his appearance, steps dragging, eyes shadowed, tan skin still managing a shade of pale. At the moment he lets Melinda do the talking, leaving this stage of interaction to the half of the pair who is actually /polite/; he just returns the bow, his own coming more habitually with a press of his palms together. For all the shadowed exhaustion in his gaze, his mind is keenly alert and listening to the offices around them, mental senses only strengthened by his current roster of hivees. "I am afraid I cannot admit you without an appointment," the receptionist replies, genuinely apologetic. She finds Hive exceedingly attractive and cannot fathom how Tian-shin might already be drawing clients of her own. A flash of jealousy at the new lawyer's favored status accompanies this thought, along with a subconscious flick of her eyes toward the door that leads to the junior partners' office. Two minds reside behind that door--one intent on food and the other on numbers. No one else is in the suite. "Would you like to make an appointment now?" she adds. << Damn. And for once, I don't have food for a covert bluff. Delivery people get away with everything. >> The thought isn't exactly directed at anyone in particular, more the musings of a overtired mind. "I don't suppose that we could simply get an appointment for now? I hate to inconvenience anyone, but I pulled my friend off the job with the hopes that she could help him. I'm friends with her family, you see, and I thought maybe she could... well, help." Melinda makes the plea to the receptionist, remaining polite and hush toned. The receptionist smiles awkwardly as Melinda speaks, until the words 'I'm friends with her family' bring her up short. <<Of course, her father throws her a bone. /She/ is too good to work her way up like everyone else. >> Though her thoughts are acerbic, she keeps her expression carefully neutral. "Ah! I apologize, I did not know you were here on her family's behalf. Ms Hua is on her break right now, but I am /sure/ she would be happy to see you. This way, please." <<At least she'll miss her lunch.>> She steps over to the office door and, bowing deeply, opens it for Mel and Hive. This office contains three desks, cunningly arranged to leave room for filing cabinets, extra chairs, and paths to each. Two large windows admit plenty of natural light to augment the fluorescent tubes overhead, but each desk has its own green-shaded lamp all the same. It has the look and feel of a private school's administrative office. Hua Tian-shin sits at the farthest desk, examining a handwritten ledger. She wears a sky blue linen blouse with mother-of-pearl buttons, and her long black hair is secured in an improbably neat-looking bun. When she glances up at the newcomers, her brows furrow and, boredom giving way to alarm, she closes the ledger. Only one of her coworkers is in, and he seems more interested in his spicy noodle soup and the sports page than potential clients at the moment. "Good day, Ms Chylds, and Mr...?" Tian-shin rises and bows, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Calm though her voice sounds, her mind is a mess of juxtaposed emotions--fear, tranquility, concern, confidence, and most of all confusion. <<Why is she here? Surely it is not about Tsai-hong's /rent/? Who is this man? >> "I appreciate your concern, but as I said before, my brother is in good hands." These words tumble from her mouth almost automatically, arising from a seething knot of compulsions someone had shoved into her mind. Hive gives the receptionist a nod, when she leads them in, a quick "Thanks" and an actual /smile/, small though it is. His hands return to his pockets, once he is inside, though they withdraw a moment later to once more press his palms together as he returns the bow with a small one of his own. "M'sure he is," comes in a rather dry tone that does not imply any kind of certainty about this at all. "It's just, he's a good friend and we miss him. It'd be nice to at least stop in and -- let him know we're thinking about him. We just wanted to get an address -- find out where we can see him." << -- what the fuck, >> comes in sharp abrasive mindvoice to Mel; mentally, he's paying much keener attention, abruptly, to Tian-shin. << This isn't right. >> << You're telling me, >> Melinda replies, soft and distracted. << it's starting to sound like Deja vu every time I speak with her. >> She does bow once more and when she straightens, she presses her teeth together to keep from showing the cringe Hive's mental voice still evokes. "I appreciate how much your family is looking to help him, but it's be nice just to be able to send him flowers or a card, too, you know? We will definitely respect the facilities visiting and screening rules, but we care about him and want him to know we support him." Tian-shin manages a wan and nervous smile that makes her look just like Tag--a less scruffy and less colorful Tag. "I am so glad that he has friends such as you. However, the rehabilitation facility will only allow family visitation." A sudden upwelling of profound love and loneliness drowns out the programming for a moment. "Perhaps I can pass along--oh, but no, he does not want to see me. Our father checks in on him daily..." She trails off, derailed by the cognitive dissonance at the intersection of the foreign thought that tells her 'all is well with Tag' and her own vivid memories of the violence their father had visited upon his eldest. <<Why would Tsai-hong want to see Baba and not me?!>> One hand goes to her temple, trembling, tucking back an invisible stray hair. "Kinda doubt he doesn't want to see you." Hive's hands return to his pockets, shoulders dropping into a habitual slouch. "He's never had anything but good to say about /you/. Don't know why the fuck he'd want to see an /abusive/ family member and not one he loves. -- Where is the facility, though? It can't hurt at least if we try talking to them to ask." << -- That's because she's been programmed to tell you these things, >> he tells Melinda now, heavily. << Fucking hell. -- wonder if I take her, if I'll just go all zombie-parrot, too. Don't usually take people who've had /other/ telepathic interference. Technological interference, sometimes, but that's different. >> << Is there any way you can test it on me? Or can I help anchor you? >> Melinda steps forward, pursing her lips before speaking. "Tian-shin, we know your brother well and we care about him, but if they are only letting family in, could you go see him for us? I know he might have said that he doesn't want to see you, but that was probably just one really bad day. He always talks about you, Tian-shin. Maybe you should try to see him again?" << However I can do to help, you know I will. If someone's programmed her not to see her brother or tell us where he is, he's in trouble and... I do not want anyone .... Can't lose anyone else. >> "He's not /abusive/!" Tian-shin's retort is automatic, guilt-ridden, but not psychically programmed this time. "Whatever Tag said...it's...not what you think." She lowers her eyes as if expecting her visitors to strike her. At the mention of the address, her memory instantly recalls the location: Ming Liang Counseling and Rehabilitation. Her mental map, abstract yet intricate, places it only two blocks east of her office. When she opens her mouth to answer, however, what comes out is, "This is a family matter, and Tag would like it to remain private." She frowns as the creeping sense of unease with her own thoughts grows more onerous. Then, to Melinda, "I...I will ask to see him again. I am sure, though..." Her dark brown eyes dart up to meet her visitors' in turn, like those of a cornered prey animal, before she fixes them on her desk lamp. "...I am /sure/ he is all right." "Fine, okay. But it still holds that he /loves/ you and there's no reason he wouldn't want to see you." Hive's eyes narrow on her, thoughtfully. << Defnitely programmed, >> he answers Melinda. << Just -- /hurt/ me, >> he tells her, << if I start getting stupid-zombie. -- Actually, hurt /her/ so I can break my connection. >> It's hard to tell if this last part is serious or not. "How are you sure? You haven't even seen him. We just want to stop by and say hi." << There's a place, though. It's close by here. In her mind. I think I can get there now. >> His attention focuses on this address, on her mental map of the place. << Maybe we should just go check it out. I can come /back/ and eat her brain if it turns out he isn't there. >> << Yeah, that makes the most sense.... how much would I have to hurt you, by the way? We talking a pinprick or do I need to punch you in the face? >> Melinda begins to imagine herself actually trying to throw a punch. There are flashes of how it looks in movies, apparently, she has a thing for boxing movies, then the thought, 'wrap the wrist to keep it straight,' followed by the strong desire to have already taken Dusk up on his offer. She nods once more and bows her head. "I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time. You are. Right. He is probably fine." She steps back a little further, hands reaching for ahive's elbow. << Maybe it will throw up fewer red flags if it looks like we gave up? >> It is after all, only a suggestion. "Thank you, but we should be going now." Hands unclasping and shoulders drooping, Tian-shin looks simultaneously relieved and disappointed. "It is not as simple as whether he loves me or not. My brother has a troubled past." Little confidence backs this explanation. She knows she is propping up an irrational stance, but cannot discern why. "I hope..." she pauses, struggling against her own pride and an implanted compulsion to keep outsiders out of the matter, "they do allow you to see him, after all." She concludes with a bow. <NYC> Ming Liang Counseling and Rehabilitation - Chinatown Tucked between an apothecary and a liquor store, Ming Liang does not look like a promising destination for the addicted and downtrodden. Traditional qin music plays in the narrow lobby, where prospective clients wait under the watch of the receptionist and an assistant who carries himself more like a guard than an orderly. There is a moment, just outside the door, that Hive pauses. Not entering, just pausing with one hand on the door. His mind stretches out before them, quietly listening to what minds he can feel through the lobby. It is only after a moment of listening that he opens the door, holding it for Melinda. Melinda enters with slightly less determination than when she charged politely into the law offices earlier. Instead, she is calmer and more reserved, with a fuzzy surge of nervous energy inside her, wrapped around a core of suspicion as to why this place is so close and Tian-shin is so determined not to stop by despite her brother's supposed rejection. She sets her jaw and swallows hard, heading deeper and fighting an urge to hang on Hive's arm for reassurance. She strides forward, trying for a moment to remember Tag's Chinese name. They'd use that, right? Shit. Unused names are so hard to remember. "Hello, we are here to see Tag Hau, please." The minds in the waiting room are muddied and dull--whether from chronic substance abuse, boredom, or, at least in one case, inebriation. None of them want to be there, not even the employees. Only the receptionist and orderly look up when Hive and Melinda enter. They both stare at the newcomers for a moment, then look at each other. "Nobody here name that. Very sorry!" the receptionist replies with a jerky bow in Melinda's direction. He is not /technically/ lying, but suspects he knows who these two are looking for. "We have, ah, pre-approved visitor list..." he adds. It does not take a telepath to divine that which he left unspoken: '...and you are not on it.' The orderly crosses his much-tattooed arms and shifts his body as if to block the bead curtained doorway behind him. Though not bulky and visibly muscular, he is tall and broad for a Chinese man. He looks Hive up. down, no doubt in his mind that he would win handily if it came to blows. "Hua Tsai-Hong," Hive says, in response to the receptionist. He glances over the orderly, eyebrows raising slightly. << The fuck, >> he says to Melinda, << is up with these people, that orderly is already contemplating getting violent. >> "We're friends of the family." << Fuck. Really? Shit. >> Mel does her best not to tense at that, but in conjunction with Hive's mindvoice, her shoulders start to creep up a bit. << Should we come back later with people or fuck, I'm not going to be any good in fight. >> She draws in a deep breath and presses some of the tension down. "You didn't even check the list. Come now, would we know where to go if we weren't on the list?" The receptionist's face goes ashen at the mention of Tag's (presumably) legal name, and he practically freezes in place at 'friends of the family'. He casts a sidelong glance at the orderly, who gives the barest hint of a shrug by way of reply. Melinda's reasoning seems to relax him, but only a little. "The list is only--that is, Mister Hua did not list /any/ friend to visit..." His fear of offending a potentially important patron wars with his desire to stick to the script. Finally, he stumbles with much relief upon what seems like a safe compromise. "I call him, OK!" << Or I could just eat them all. I don't do /fisticuffs/. >> Hive suggests this with every hint of seriousness, glancing between the orderly and the receptionist. "Yeah," he agrees, rocking backwards on his heels. "Good. Call him." But even as he says this, his mind is reaching out; fortified by the stable of hivees he's accumulated from Jim's prison, it doesn't even carry its usual jarring /wrench/ when he pushes at the receptionist's mind. Only a brief but rather mild throb of headache, a small moment of vertigo; his mental grip closes in vicelike to insinuate himself. Melinda sniffs quietly and nods when the receptionist compromises. << Ahh. Well, I suppose, but you were worried about Tian-shin's mind. I'll be worried whoever did that is here in some capacity. Besides smacking you if you lose it, you want me to dial Jax for help? >> Her hand slips into her purse to pull out her phone, looking to text nonchallantly. Her mind is suddenly on Murphy, pulling up a message to him with the address and the explanation 'looking for my roommate here. If I don't check in in 4 hours, consider it my last known location.' As he reaches for the /corded/ telephone on his desk, the receptionist winces, but still picks up the handset. Though terrified of Hua Yong, he believes he is better off asking and seeming a fool than not asking at all. He leans forward, squinting, as his hands ghost over the keypad, not actually depressing any numbers. Hive and Melinda stand close enough to hear the dial tone, if only faintly, while the receptionist waits for 'Mister Hua' to pick up. The orderly pays him little mind and watches the visitors. A few moments and a brief, one-way conversation in Mandarin later, the receptionist hangs up. He wears an embarrassed smile as he bows. "I am so sorry to make you wait! Li Wen, take the doctors downstairs." A single compact fluorescent light illuminates the narrow stairway. The considerably better-lit basement it accesses has unpainted concrete floors and wall. The air is still, humid, thick with the smell of sweat and cheap cigarette smoke. Two men in A-shirts and jeans sit at a rickety card table, one absorbed in a smartphone and the other in a PS Vita. A neglected Chinese chess set lies between them on the table, attended by half-eaten meals in plastic bento boxes and an overflowing ashtray. The guards--they are not even trying to look like orderlies--look up from their respective electronic diversions, and snap to their feet when they spot the strangers. "{Hua Yong's friends,}" the orderly explains in Mandarin, "{they are doctors or something.}" Then, to the 'doctors' in English, "These men will show you to Hua Tsai-hong's room." He gestures vaguely at a hallway beyond the card table, which lead to the rest of the basement, sectioned off by concrete walls. Hive returns the bow to the receptionist, though it's curt and perfunctory. There's a faintly more vacant look to his eyes -- only slight, a distance that is growing the more his focus stretches outward through his hivees. "{Thank you,}" comes distracted, too, though with his newly borrowed receptionist his Mandarin is at least fluid-easy. << This is creepy, right? >> slips over to Melinda, a little bit less stabby this time. << I mean, s'not just /me/? >> << Somehow, I don't think that this place is under the jurisdiction of the New York Medical Board, >> Mel replies, lips pursed thoughtfully. She's quiet and utterly polite as the receptionist turns them over to Li Wen and then over to guards. << Smoking isn't allowed inside any facility I know of, at the very least. >> She gives a smile to the guards and keeps close to Hive. << How are we going to get Tag out of here? Fake a medical emergency, or did you already build in patient transportation into the 'phone call?' You did do that, right? >> The man with the Vita rises and gestures for the visitors to follow him down the hallway. His partner picks up the rear. They are bored and slightly suspicious, but those feelings are dwarfed by wariness of their ward. The first door they pass has a laminated sign decorated with incongruously adorable cartoon cleaning supplies. The second door is blank, and three pairs of lab safety goggles dangle from nails beside it. Vita picks up one pair and puts it on. "You should wear eye protection," he says, unhooking a carabiner keychain from his belt. "Just in case." Hive can detect Tag's mind inside the room, but it feels different than he remembers. He is actively resisting telepathic contact using /pain/ as mental white noise. From behind the door, his voice is muffled but audible. "{What? Did you forget to jerk off into my food?}" The words are Mandarin, but his contempt needs no translation. Hive tenses, as they near Tag's room, a brief but notable clench to his lean muscles. << Jegus, >> mutters across to Mel, his teeth clenched too when he reaches for a pair of goggles. << He's -- less than happy. /Uh/. -- Get him out of here, shit. You say that like I had any plan. >> Beneath his words there is a distinct discomfort, something tight and clenching that he tries to shove back down. << I'll eat the whole fucking place if I have to. >> He slips the goggles on, nodding to the guard. Melinda also grabs a pair of goggles, slipping them on. << Well, it's not like we can just leave him here. >> She has likewise not thought this through. << Making a second intrusion is likely not going to go well. >> She steps over to stand in front of the doorway, her face serious, her shoulders pulled back in a professional manner. "Thank you." "You might want to stand back. She /throws/ things sometimes," Vita says as he slides one of his keys into the padlock and twists it open. The other guard, ungoggled, hangs back near the door of the broom closet. Vita pushes the door open and settles his weight lower as if expecting to offset a charge. The room is white, along with all of its contents save for a stainless steel mess tray--rice and curry, untouched--lying near the door and Tag standing in the middle. He is blindfolded, unkempt white hair hanging down over sunken cheeks, and wearing a thin white gown that in no way disguises the shape of his breasts, small though they are. He looks /furious/. Barely discernible in the wedge of light that enters the room from the hallway, a shockwave of brighter white ripples out from Tag. When it reaches the mess tray, the steel turns stark white, followed only a moment later by the food. The color front climbs the door frame as it crests the previously gray concrete threshold, heading right for Melinda and the guard. The latter, panicking, moves to slam the door shut. << She. >> There is quite noticeable disgust in even just this one sharp mental note to Mel. << -- Jesus Christ, can I just stab them all? >> He steps back away from the door as the guard moves towards it, his brows furrowing into a deep frown. "Are all your patients this unruly." It's phrased as a question, but his flat-bland tone lacks the proper inflection to /make/ it one. Even as he's saying this out loud, mentally he is gritting his teeth and reaching out through that static-field of pain: << Tag. Tag, it's me, dude, chill, I'm going to be pretty cranky if I leave here blind. >> His voice is easily familiar in its habitual /gruff/, even if with his network growing it is nowhere near as /painful/ as it tends to be. Mel gives a little displeased noise as the door is flung shut again, stumbling back a half step in surprise. "Charming," is all she can mutter, her distaste also apparent. She schools her upset quickly. "Why don't you let me try? Calming patients is my forte and this one may need a little extra care," she speaks quietly, starting to put a more soothing tone in her voice to start. "I've done my homework; I know what can happen." She reaches for the door. << Fuck this whole place. Don't ... waste yourself too much on them. >> She knocks and speaks to the door first. "Hello in there. I just want to have a quick chat with you. Do you mind if I come in?" The door closes just before Tag reaches it, and he is not nearly strong enough to pull it open again while the guard holds it shut. The tide of color halts, leaving a wavy white border about a foot deep around the doorframe. "Gan ni!" Tag roars, pounding on the door. Each strike, bare knuckles on steel, makes the static flare brighter. "I hate you! Get out of my head, you don't /know/ him, he's not like that..." Tag pushes back at Hive with an intense recollection of Hive's /usual/ telepathic presence--sharp, grating, painful. The guard is in the act of threading the padlock back into the latch when Melinda teaches for the door handle. He steps back and vacates the area immediately in front of the door, joining his partner. "It's on you," he says, "but Hua Yong will be /very upset/ if you hurt her." Tag is silent for a moment. "This is a trick. This is just another trick..." << Is it? Hive? How do I know you're not /him/? >> "Not here to hurt anyone. Just here to talk." Hive doesn't approach the door, eyes narrowing on it with each of those pounds. << Jesus motherfucking Christ you are giving me a giant-ass headache. You don't know I'm not him. Just gonna have to fucking trust me for a minute here. Everyone's been worried as hell. The fuck has he been doing to you, man? And your sister? >> Melinda cringes back when the pounding starts, her brow furrowed, the desire to just hug Tag welling up inside her. "I am not going to hurt anyone," she states flatly, carefully laying her hands on the door. She raises her voice to get above the din, but finds it unnecessary quickly. "I am -- going to open the door now, please, give me a chance to use my words. I swear to you, I am not in your head, nor do I have the ability to be in your head. I am just an average person, wanting to talk." She glances back at Hive, then opens the door slowly to look in at Tag again. Tag's pain static recedes, but his thoughts remain guarded. << He's /brainwashing us/, or trying to. It worked a lot better on her than on me. He tried to make me an obedient daughter or something, but it didn't take so he put these compulsions in my head...like I can't take off the blindfold, or leave this room. Who knows what else. >> The door swings open freely. Tag has stepped off to the side, one hand braced against the wall and the other still clenched, hanging at his side as if he has a mind to take a shot at anyone who gets too close. "What's there to talk about? My father has imprisoned me here against my will and my hair isn't long enough for Prince Charming to climb up and save me." << … can we just take him and go? Fuck. >> Hive's prickly thoughts to Mel are impatient, irritable. His hands stay in his pockets as he enters the room, frowning over at Tag. "Could knot the bedsheets. Put less strain on your skull." << Anyone ever told you your dad is a creepyass motherfucker? Cuz your dad is a creepyass motherfucker. The fuck is this place? You want to come home? You've missed two game nights in a row, dude, that's flakey even for /you/. >> "Ah, well, none of the fairytales I enjoy revolve around Prince Charming and rescue. Much prefer the ones where the clever protagonist manages to think his or her way out of a dire situation and save the kingdom on their own." Melinda steps into the room, carefull, not getting too close while unsure if Tag recognizes them. << We... should probably make sure he isn't going to feel like we're kidnapping him too, because that'd be shit. >> "I'd like to try a grounding exercise. I want you to use your senses. Listen to the sound of my voice. Take a second and tell me what you can smell. There are two of us in here. Maybe you can tell me how each of us is distinctive and different, but most importantly real. You can touch us, if you want, but only if you want, and if you do so slowly and gently." "Kinduva moot point, since I don't have a window." Tag sweeps one hand at the concrete box, furnished only with cot, toilet, and sink. It was probably a bathroom at some point. "I knew there was a reason I hated fairytales." << Why do you /think/ I was avoiding him like the plague? Fuck yes I want out, but I don't think this shit in my head will /let/ me. >> He reaches for the velcro catch that holds the blindfold on, but his hand stops short as if it has come up against a forcefield. "I don't need grounding. I've /been/ grounded long enough." << Has it been that long? If it's really you and you sound like this...something must have happened. >> Still, he turns to face Mel as she instructs. "'Real'? That's a rabbit hole I don't wanna go down. You...smell like coffee and he smells like teen spirit." << Like I can smell shit over the cigarettes and Axe body spray. Take this thing off me, and those guys are going to have mouths for eyes. >> "Yeah, you really should hold out for a room with a view. This accommodations are pretty shitty." Hive moves over to lean back against a wall, studying Tag for a long moment in silence. << He wants to blind the guards. I can't say I care much about stopping him. >> This is to Melinda, as Hive considers. << I might be able to undo it, >> he tells Tag. << But I won't know till I look. It's possible I can't undo it but I can almost definitely /override/ it. I have other friends who could probably fix it. But if I can't, you'd probably have to stay joined to me till they do. Tell me, >> and this is more musing than reluctant, << how much is your dad going to murder me when I walk you out of here? >> << So we are getting through to him? >> Melinda asks, pursing her lips. << Damn, I'm running out of material for this psychologist bit. Yeah, I don't give a shit about stopping him, but I also don't want to screw up our exit. >> "Perhaps 'real' is a bad word for right now. How about we stick with tangible and not actively imagined. You were saying before how new people here might be a trick. I am merely looking for ways to help you determine what is true and what is false." She exhales and tucks hair behind her ear. "Do you have anything in mind that would help with that?" Tag shrugs. "The price was right." << You're kind of crap at playing shrink, if that's what you're doing. If I have to let /someone/ into my mind, though, I'm relieved it's you. >> He straightens hunched shoulders and draws a deep breath. The barricade of strong emotions he had erected relax on command; he has clearly been practicing. << Oh, Dad won't kill you; he has /people/ for that. Or, if his boss found out about your powers, he might want to grab you, too. >> "Yeah, I think being able to /see/ would really help 'ground' me." This with a tight, dangerous smile at Melinda. "I'm a visual learner." "I do not recommend that," says Vita from outside the door. "That thing you saw her do? If she can see, she can /target/ things. Like your eyes." "{I don't like this,}" the other guard mutters. "{We should tell Hua Yong.}" "Mnh," Hive answers the guards in a grunt, "Thanks for the heads up." But the words in Mandarin make him narrow his eyes. << Fuck this shit, >> he tells Melinda, << let's just go. >> There's another uncomfortable outward /squeeze/ of pressure, more unobtrusive with each additional mind he takes, as his grip closes in on each guard in turn. He pushes away from the wall, moving over towards Tag to undo the velcro on the blindfold and pull it off; for a moment as his eyes meet Tag's his jaw clenches tight, but then relaxes. << You don't /have/ to let me into your mind. But I can take you out of here. Easier than having to come back with reinforcements and undo his shit. >> Melinda is reaching slowly for the blindfold, looking over her shoulder toward the door. "We have to exercise a little trust to get any patient to trust us. If you keep your goggles on and your eyes-" and then she stops, backs up and shakes her head, receiving the message loud and clear. << Lovely. It was a boring conversation anyway. >> "Hi Tag." She moves toward the door to check out the guards outside the room. "Missed ya, figured we'd drop by. Personally, I think your other room is better. Wanna go back?" Though the room is not bright, Tag squints and blinks a few times before focusing on Hive. His irises are white, and they gleam in the oblique light from the corridor. He makes for the door, but stops dead at the threshold, gritting his teeth. << Dad will be back in the evening, and he'll know. We should go now. So...it's either you get in my head or you carry me out. Nothing new either way. >> He looks at Mel as if he had never seen her before and opens his mouth to speak--then closes it again with a hateful glare in the direction of the unseen guards. << Hell, I'll go /anywhere/ but here. Home might not be the best idea, though. I think he knows where we live. >> Vita rubs his temple with one hand, removing his goggles. "{No need. Would Hua Yong send them alone if he didn't think they could handle it?}" << They're probably mutants, too. >> His partner gives only a grunt by way of reply. << Old Hua is starting to act like he owns us, and bringing in foreigners... >> In the guards' minds, a sudden and very strong feeling is surfacing; the thought that Hua Yong has /sent/ for his daughter and these people are here to pick her up and take her to her father. Hive's eyes are growing more vacant, his mind reaching out through the path ahead of them, seeking out others who might impede their exit. "Fine," is what he says out loud, just a moment before his mind presses in at Tag's, too. It's a heavy squeeze of pressure that precedes the familiar feel of Hive's mind settling in around the other man's, today with a background murmur of othervoices muted beneath Hive's own. "S'go." << He says his dad might know where you live. Maybe your place isn't safe? -- /We're/ probably on cameras somewhere here. Ungh. Jax's? S'a hugeass fucking city, separate apartment may as well be a separate state for how likely any given person is to know their neighbors. >> This thought comes to Mel, but through the mental connection Tag can hear it just as well; it sounds less and less like Hive's own voice, now, and more like a strange echoing conglomerate of voices, many tones speaking in unison. << We can deal with guards. Let's just -- get -- a fucking taxi. >> It takes a moment before Hive actually /moves/, stiff and jerky at first before he settles into regular walking pace, a little brisker and a little more upright than his usual habitual slouching. << So he crashes there until this whole thing gets resolved, or do you think this is going to be more long term? >> Not looking forward to the answer to that question, Melinda draws in a deep breath and wraps a gentle arm around Tag's shoulder, looking to guide him out of the room, and out of the facility, walking after Hive, still trying to look like a medical professional moving a patient. << Taxi. Okay. Let's go. >>