ArchivedLogs:Guilt and Cookies
| Guilt and Cookies | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-05-29 |
| Location
<XS> Medical Lab - B1 | |
Gleaming and sterile, the school's medical facility is all cool science in contrast to the mansion's old-world old-fashion. All stainless steel and antiseptic tinge, the room is filled with the quiet whir-click of the various implements that comprise its medical equipment -- all state-of the art. The hospital beds are curtained off for privacy when they have patients, and in one of the alcoves there is a small operating theatre visible. More heavy-duty equipment is visible in the lab in the back, where the securely locked cabinets keep sensitive equipment out of the reach of teenage fingers. It's a while after the return of VAN from insanityland. By now it's nighttime; upstairs dinner has come and gone and news of the afternoon's aborted field trip has surely spread throughout the school. Visitors, no doubt, have been trickling in and out with frequency. To talk or maybe just to GAWK; gossip is pretty much the lifeblood of boarding school. There is one more visitor slipping in to join the stream of them. Shane has changed from his fieldtrip outfit; washed up, traded old workclothes for grey slacks, a grey vest, bow tie, button-down. He has a large tupperware tub under one arm as the medbay doors quietly whoosh-slide open to admit him, and his huge dark eyes scan the room in silent assessment. "Everyone alive in here?" "Alive in what sense?" Bobby says with a sort of low, defeated tone. He is seated on one of the uncomfortable steel med bay beds with a pillow behind his back and his shirt off. There are bandages and gauze pads on his sides, his arms hanging limply at his side. He doesn't look particularly chuffed to be safe and sound. He gives Shane a half-hearted wave as he walks in, a half-smile on his face that says he's none too pleased to be here. "I swear, I had it under control." Kris looks up from own little bed. She wasn't injured... But she was a ball of anxiety. So she got treated to a nice round of sedatives for anxiety so she's totally loopy. She lifts her head when Shane enters and looks towards Bobby, hissing in a stage whisper,"It's SHANE. Shane. Shane asked me to the ball." She looks over at Shane, and then calls out to him,"BOBBY. You should go with Shane to the ball." She then flops back, and says tearfully,"I'm sorry I couldn't get the ant off of-*SNOOORE*" Yeah. Good sedatives are good. There is also a loiterer who is doing his level best to stay out of the way, and who, when kicked out, invariably comes back in to fret in a corner. It's the kid with the lightning bolts. "Yeah," Stanton says in a somewhat smaller voice than anyone who's ever met him before now would expect. "That blew. I think-- I think, man, I am gonna just stay here. In the school. Forever." "I dunno, alive. Breathing, eating, fucking. You look like you're --" Shane squints at Bobby, head tilting slightly to one side. "A third of the way there. Here. I can help you with another third." GUESS WHICH THIRD. It's not actually hard to guess, he's opening the tupperware; there are cookies inside. Espresso chocolate chip. "Pfft, under control, we are a room full of fuckups. Wouldn't really be here if we weren't -- jegus, NewGuy," he adds with a glance to Stanton, "that's --" He stops to consider it, and then waggles the cookies in Stanton's direction, too. "Really pathetic," his tone is almost cheerful on this. "You'd get bored as fucking hell there is /shit/all to do around here on weekends. Kris is right, though. You," he says this to Bobby, "should come to the dance with me." And, still cheerful, "You too, NewGuy." Bobby gives Kris a /look/ like, really? Really? He misses his window of opportunity because the poor baby passes out before he can really lay into her. He flops his arms a little in annoyance. Bleh. Bluch. His lips quirk and he gives Stanton a tired expression that seems at least somewhat sympathetic. "I thought I had signed up for disaster relief, not giant-sized pest control. You'd think maybe they'd have clued us in it wasn't a by-the-books wreck before something like this happens? Maybe?" He scratches his bare chest and sighs. "Pretty amazing stuff you did out there, though. Wow." Bobby waves his hands in front of him, genuinely shocked at the invitation and the invitation of cookies. "On a diet, got a date, unless that's not what you mean. I don't see what's wrong with not wanting to fuck around with giant bugs anyway. The only nice thing you can say about that is that it could've been worse." Kris suddenly rolls off the bed with a loud *THUMP*. She is up in a mere moment, and stumbles to her feet. First over to try to hug Bobby. Then to try to hug Shane. And then to hug NewGuy. "Oh my God. My friends are okay. My friendly friends that are friend. BOBBY. Shane has all the prom dates ever. Oh. My. God. Bobby IS going to the dance. With my roommate." She starts stumbling around the medlab,"I want rootbeer. Shane. I need rootbeer. And beef jerky." "There's the Moog in the music room," Stanton says thoughtfully, "for weekends. Also the music room. The all of it." Yeah he is from Hackney /what of it/. He stares at the cookies uncomprehendingly for a minute, and then he starts slinking over. "Forever until I can keep a lid on it I guess. I dunno if I'm going, I asked Megan and she might kill me for putting her roomie in hospital." Then there is hand slinking into tub of cookies, and three cookies are slunk out of it. "But thanks. If I live I'll see you there." Noshing sort of mournfully on the first cookie, the skinny dark-haired kid starts looking incredulously at Bobby and is /totally interrupted/ because Sudden Kris. "Hi. Hi? You're on-- you're not on me anymore, right. All right. She's on drugs," he explains to Shane, "and I'm Stanton. My roomate is Lucas, and he's unconscious." He points to Lucas in a bed. "I'm taking /all/ the dates to the dance," Shane explains to Bobby -- /patiently/, like this should be /obvious/, "your date can be my date too. Also you just got attacked by giant ants that is fucking /crazysauce/ I am pretty sure nobody wants to fuck around with those except Ivan. It's not the time for dieting though." But he doesn't push, he is not a cookie PUSHER. He just hugs Kris. "Got about a bajillionty pounds of beef jerky upstairs," he tells her, "and yeah everyone's OK sort of," 'sort of' with a glance to Lucas, "just kind of like what the /fuck/ cuz giant /ants/." He sets the tupperware down on Lucas's bedside table. "He can have cookies, too, when he gets up. /And/ he can be my date to the dance. Along with you," he tells Stanton, "/and/ Megan -- I, honestly, don't think I could see Megan killing /anyone ever/ by the way I'm pretty sure she's made out of sugar and fairydust?" He shrugs. "Shane," he adds, finally introducing himself. "The cookies are from my pa." Bobby pats Kris on the back and gives her a sympathetic smile, already clear that most of it will be lost on her in her messed-up state. "Nice meeting you, Stanton. Bobby Drake. I'd say it's a pleasure, but this actually kind of hurts." He gives a thumbs up regardless, and then reconsiders Shane's offer for a moment, giving the sharkguy a thoughtful look. He takes one cookie, but doesn't immediately get to chompin'. He points at him with his other finger bending the hand at the wrist. "I don't know what you mean by you're taking everybody. But thank you and your pa for the cookies. And the backup out there. Did I miss the joke though?" Kris waves bye-bye to Stanton as she wanders away for more hugs,"I hit one with my machete. I was gonna boomshoot it with my rockets. But I couldn't hit it without hitting someone else. No clear fire. I didn't wanna shoot Bobbyfriend. BOBBY. I made you cupcakes, 'cause I was tryin' to apologize to you. But I kept missing you. And then I ate them." She peers at the cookies and then at Shane, and then informs him,"YOUR FATHER. IS THE BEST. He showed me a picture of his friend, Jen. And she was pretty. And he said I could be that pretty one day, even though I'm tall. And then-" She starts to babble about how awesome Jackson is, from this point on until she hones in on Shane's beef jerky,"Megan is, like, my best friend. Her boydate better treat her right. SHANE. You have beef jerky. And handsome teeth. I like your teeth." She likes his teeth. "Also, Peter is cute in a geeky way." Stanton does not appear bugged by Shane explaining that all the dates are his. "Your pa rocks the house," he tells the sharkguy solemnly, "these are fucking amazing. I may even stop feeling guilty. It's not usually my style, see." He flops in an obligatory uncomfortable plastic chair then pulls his feet up to the edge of the seat, jammed up instead of perched. "Shane. Bobby. Hi." He leans a little bit away from Kris' path of irresistable force, hugging his other two cookies protectively, and eyeing her sidelong until the danger is passed. "Sorry your everything hurts. That was pretty fuckin dramatic, got to say," he tells Bobby, then looks up at Shane again. "And--" here, a corner of his mouth quirks up, "--she's made of dancing." "You're already pretty. I guess if you want to be different-pretty you can be that, too. -- My pa /is/ amazing," Shane agrees with this /happily/; whatever stereotypes there may be about teenagers being embarassed about their parents does not hold true here. "He teaches the baking class here. Art too. Also he's a badass. There's no joke," Bobby gets a shrug of a shoulder, "I like dancing. And people. So /everyone/ should be my date. I'll get you all corsages. Or the bout -- whateverthefuck button things, Kris knows." "Anyway, feeling guilty's kind of a waste of time I think? Cookies are better. And then you practice, and next time you maybe only fry a /couple/ things and then the time after that less and then eventually you don't fry anyone. Being made of dancing's pretty cool. You can both be my date." Shane grins. His grins are /very/ sharptoothed, an overabundance of sharkteeth gleaming white behind blue skin. "Aright. I'm gonna grab you some fucking jerky." This is a promise to Kris. He offers the others a sharp /salute/. "Don't mope too much, or next time I'm bringing cookies with weed in, that'll liven the medbay /right/ the fuck up." One last flash of grin, and he turns to duck back out. "/YES PLEASE/," Stanton calls after Shane, then glances at Bobby defensively. "/What/!" | |
