ArchivedLogs:Feeding Time

Feeding Time
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Iolaus, Toby
In Absentia	2014-01-04 '
Location <???> Jail Cell, Federal Corrections
Cramped and small, this thick-walled concrete room offers very little by way of comfort or privacy. There's a cot on one side with thin grey mattress, thin grey blankets, thin grey pillow. On the other side sits a lidless steel toilet with built-in sink atop it. There's not a whole lot by way of /room/, about six feet by eight feet. No windows to the outside, and a solid heavy steel door rather than bars; a barred window in the door is usually kept shuttered from without, as is the slot in the wall where a shelf protrudes and meals are often slid through. A single wan light in the ceiling provides dim illumination whenever the guards care to turn it on. Sometime in the afternoon. A tray of lunch sits untouched on the shelf by its small window. Dusk's breakfast came and went much the same way; at some point yesterday evening he simply stopped getting up for the food when previously he had been cleaning his plate thoroughly. Now, though, he lies curled up on his cot, wings folded at uncomfortable angle behind him; he hasn't moved from here since dinnertime last night. His bright orange jumpsuit is only half on, unzipped to the waist and folded down because, well, bright orange jumpsuits don't accommodate wings very well. Its sleeves have been tied around his waist, his black-painted number -- 24389-037 -- largely obscured in its folds. Still and quiet, the markedly unhealthy pallor to his skin brings to mind strongly the zombies that plagued the city. The footsteps at the door are numerous, this time, boots and shoes. "This is Officer Williams. The shift color is red. Open cell 143. Say again, on the door, open cell 143." Toby's voice, at least, is familiar. The sound of metal grinding inside the wall as bolts slide out of place, and the squeak of the hinges on the door is not. Toby is the first into the room, baton in hand as he eyes Dusk warily, but he is not the last. Another guard follows him, baton also in hand - and then two people in white coats, one with an employee badge, one with a bright orange visitor one. Iolaus. Dusk doesn't immediately move out of his position on the bed. He curls inward further, one wing shifting to lay over himself like a blanket. It moves only once all the others are in the room; he turns to look towards them with bloodshot eyes. There's blood elsewhere, too, visible dried and rust-red along torn-open punctures raw and angry in his wrists, a small leaked trickle staining the grey of his blankets. His lips peel back, a low guttural snarl rising slow in his throat. The second guard slams the door shut behind the four of them as Toby steps in front of the doctors, one hand outstretched in a placating gesture, even as the other one lifts the baton defensively. "Easy there, Ryan. Let's not make this into an incident. The doctors came to take a look at you since you didn't take your food today." His voice is not particularly gentle, as it goes, but it is certainly wary. "This is exactly what I was saying to you, Doctor. It's not the same thing at all. You can't just substitute with food. He's starving, and he's beginning to rely on instincts alone." Iolaus' voice is sad even as it is chastising. "Dusk. It's Doctor Saavedro. Iolaus." Iolaus turns to the other doctor, hand out, demanding. The prison doctor's lips thin, and he opens a bag to hand a dark red plastic bag to the other man. Iolaus immediately, hot potato style, tosses it onto the bed next to Dusk. Dusk's eyes rivet on Toby with another low snarl as the man speaks. He pushes himself up /abruptly/ -- there's a hard wince of pain on his features as he puts weight on his arm with the punctured flesh at his wrist. His large taloned wings flare out for balance as he shoves to his feet -- quickly thwacking up against the narrow confines of his cell. His attention shifts to Iolaus when the doctor speaks, and he takes quick stumbling-unsteady steps towards Io. "Wait, wait, he just doesn't smell it." Iolaus says, quickly, his eyes widening. "Give me the other one. Quickly, quickly, give me the other one." As soon as Dusk stands, Toby's voice is loud, commanding, right in Dusk's face. "Stop! Get /back/. Hands on your head, on the bed, now!" The baton comes from the side in a forward sweeping motion, hitting into the side of Dusk's calf even as his hand shoves at Dusk's chest. "Give me the--" Iolaus gives up asking, grabbing at the other doctor's bag and yanking out the second bag of blood. He steps forward, circling around Toby's side to approach Dusk, hand extended, with the bag held so it covers his wrist. Dusk stumbles back, at the shove and sweep of baton, his next snarl just rough and pained. He crumples back against the floor, one wing landing at an odd angle behind him where it hits to break his fall. His other wing curls outward, though, when Iolaus approaches. It wraps around the doctor, pulling Io in sharply closer. Not to attack but just to drop his forehead against Iolaus's shoulder, eyes screwed up tight like fighting back tears. He pulls Iolaus's arm to his mouth, sharp fangs puncturing the plastic and a low keening whine coming from him as he sucks at the newly-made hole greedily. "What are you fucking crazy?" Toby says, even as Iolaus positions himself as in front of Dusk as he can be, wrapped in his wing. "Get the fuck away from him!" This could be to Iolaus, or to Dusk. "Easy, easy. It's alright. I'm alright. Just hold back." Iolaus is certainly surprised when the other man's wing wraps around him, but he pulls his free arm securely around Dusk, holding the younger man to him. In almost a whisper, a low murmur right into Dusk's ear, he adds, "Easy, easy. I have you. You're going to be alright. Easy." Even without being able to hear this, the discomfort on the face of the doctor and the two guards is clear as they exchange glances. Too much, too fast. Freaks. Dusk is quiet, after this. Just sucking hungrily at the packet of blood, eyes still squeezed shut tight and his head resting against Iolaus's shirt. He only moves again when the packet is emptied. tipping his head up so he can tip the plastic back, suck the last drops he can out of it. His hand is shaking, his /wing/ shaking where it presses to Iolaus's back, his posture unsteady in his crouch, balanced precariously with his other wing held against the concrete floor. 'Sorry', he signs with his other hand, 'Sorry-so-hungry-can't-think.' "I think we may need a few more units," Iolaus says, voice only a trace unsteady. "He should be getting about... three a day, I'd say. Less than two, and he'll be malnourished. Less than one, and he'll starve to death." Iolaus turns to look at the doctor even as he reaches out to pick up the other pack off of Dusk's bed and hold it up to him. "There's another. Drink, Dusk. Then we can talk. Just drink." His voice when talking to Dusk is a soft, soothing murmur - when talking to the doctor, it's a quick, firm professionalism, which he switches between seemingly effortlessly. Toby watches this, baton still raised, as if to strike a second time. His head tilts to one side, eyebrows furrowing together as his hand slowly - slowly - drops back down to his side. "Easy there, Ryan," he mutters again, confusion written on his face. Dusk drops the first emptied blood pack to the floor. His hands are still shaking as they close around the second, but he's less desperate in puncturing it, and holds it relatively steadily as he starts to suck it dry. Halfway through he finally rocks back to sit down properly on the floor, wing shifting uncomfortably to reposition itself behind him. His other wing stays around Iolaus, but no longer a cling so much as a loose drape that seems relunctant to relinquish contact. He's steadied more by the time the second packet of blood has been drained; he sucks at it a few moments longer, hopefully. Then pulls his knees up towards his chest, forehead dropping against them. "Thanks," he says, his voice rough and more gravelly-deep than its usual soft baritone. "I don't know how much longer I'd --" He shakes his head, arm starting to leave faint speckles of blood against his orange pants where his punctured wrist rubs against the fabric. His arm tightens, bare shoulder tensing and his eyes closing. "How'd /you/ get here." "Not much, I think." Iolaus says, lightly. "The US Attorney agreed to let the Mendel Clinic consult with the prison medical staff on your case after we had a... discussion." The doctor's smile is wicked, and he turns to gesture to the other doctor. "Dusk, I'd like you to meet Doctor Reynolds. He's the prison physician and your primary. Jim, this is Dusk. He was one of my experimental subjects when I was developing Sina. Suffice it to say, I've seen Dusk in a bit worse shape than this." There is a pause, and he turns to look at Dusk again. "Admittedly, not much worse. You look like shit." Toby takes another step back, glancing at the prison doctor, then the other guard, before he turns his attention back to Dusk. He taps the baton against his thigh, contemplatively, confused frown still knitting lines into his forehead. Dusk doesn't immediately look up. His forehead stays pressed to his knees, his fingers picking restlessly at the orange fabric of his jumpsuit. His wings twitch, slowly reluctantly withdrawing from Iolaus to fold uncomfortably behind him, bent awkwardly where they rest on the ground. His eyes are still bloodshot, darkly shadowed, when they lift. "I feel like shit," he answers, and then, "-- Hi." He eyes Doctor Reynolds uncertainly. Then looks to Iolaus. "They been feeding Jax? Vegan food -- /enough/ vegan food? And light? He'll be in worse shape than I am if -- not. If he's even still alive." At this question, Iolaus turns to look at the two guards. "He didn't take breakfast either. But he was moving." Toby says, crossing his arms over his chest. "But he's been eating before that. The kitchen has him on a special diet, as per your orders, Doctor." He nods to the prison doctor. "A high-sugar, vegan diet?" Iolaus asks, turning to look at the other physician. "It came through from the state as a high calorie diet. That's what I put him on." Jim says, shrugging his shoulders. "Probably in worse shape than you is right. He needs way more sugar than normal - six, seven hundred grams a day, or he'll go hypoglycemic. Let's go, now. We'll have to finish up here later." Iolaus turns to give Dusk an apologetic look. "I'll be back as soon as I check on Jax." Toby grabs at his radio, pressing the button down. "Officer Willams, on the door. Open cell 143, again, 143." The door hums and metal grinds as the door's locks slide back into the frame and the other guard holds the door open. As he was the first one out, Toby is also the last one to leave, backing slowly out of the room, eyes watching Dusk, before his puzzled look is replaced by the cold steel of the door.