Day 54: Lunch

[full_score]

All things considered, last shift had been pretty low key. After this morning's disaster, though, that was perfectly fine by Claude. Some fresh air and a chance to make sure Guy and Okita were all right weren't things to take for granted. It was also good to have a fairly normal, conversation with Guy that didn't slip off into awkward territory

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[future_games]

Isaac's only response was the shake of his head. He had gotten out of the cafeteria quickly enough to be spared the worst of the tear gas - probably the only stroke of luck he'd been given here thus far - but his eyes had continued to burn and his throat remained tight long after he was far away from the gas. It seemed so strange that even a place like this would stoop to such an inhumane level when no one was even getting hurt, but Isaac didn't feel the need to talk about it much more. It had already been implied that nothing like this had happened before, and he was fairly certain that the other man had been there to witness it himself. There wasn't much he had to say about it.

But the next question caught him feeling a little self-conscious. Courage was something that Isaac constantly reached for, but struggled to hold in his grasp for too long. It was a seemingly constant part of Peter's personality, but all of Isaac's valor seemed too short, too fleeting.

"I haven't left," he admitted after a moment of hesitation. "Not since the first night." There was a slight pause, and then his tone shifted slightly. "Ironic, isn't it?," he continued with a bitter chuckle, his eyes growing dark as they met Peter's. "I saw enough in those paintings at home to make me want to die, but I'm still not even brave enough to leave my room here at night."

[human_sponge]

Just a shake of the head wasn't much of a response, but Peter decided not to harp on it. That whole thing was already behind them, and if Isaac didn't want to go into detail about what his experience with the gas had been, then that was fine. Peter wasn't too interested in talking about it, either; the point was that Isaac had experienced it and gotten an idea of what they were now up against.

Whether or not he was interested in fighting against it seemed pretty unclear. While the two of them had worked together before, it had always been with an undertone of tension. Both of them had wanted to save the world, but somehow they'd ended up on opposite sides anyway. He didn't want to blame it on Simone, though; there were a lot of other factors that had gone into it, and Peter still hadn't completely sorted through it.

Either way, it looked like Isaac had decided to stay in so far, which really wasn't the worst decision. Not everyone had that need to throw themselves into danger, after all; the adrenaline from a high had to be different from running straight for a monster with only a shovel in hand. "Well, we're... dealing with something totally different here," he pointed out, actually giving the other man the benefit of the doubt. "And we're not well-equipped for it, either." In other words, he didn't hold it against him.

Peter vaguely considered asking Isaac if he wanted to come with him to the pharmacy that night, but he refrained for a few reasons. First of all, Isaac did have a drug problem -- and Peter was pretty sure there was some intensely addictive stuff up there. Secondly, it wasn't something he wanted to suddenly spring on Ritsuka.

"Do you get along with your roommate?" he asked after a pause. "Maybe you could ask him if you can go somewhere with him, if you want to try going out again."

[future_games]

"It isn't different," he sighed, scrubbing at his face with his hands. They were strangely free of paint and graphite smudges, a sign that he had still managed to his promise not to paint or draw until he was certain there was absolutely no chance of his ability kicking in.

But he only trailed off, not continuing to explain what he meant. Oh, he knew what he was feeling and what he wanted to say. Danger here was the same as it was back home, except now it was coming in the form of shifty staff members and monsters lurking in the shadows; not serial killers and exploding men. The situation had been too big for Isaac back then as well, so what was the difference between running and hiding here and running and hiding in New York? There was no clear division, but Isaac was trying desperately not to spark another fight. Not today. If he were to get into discussing the explosion, he might not be able to get out.

Instead, the painter fixed the other man with a long, weary stare. Maybe they were just too different to ever understand how one another perceived the world around them. Isaac shrouded himself in such a veil of discouragement and hopelessness, it was difficult to work the idea of any type of good faith into his head. Peter always seemed to believe there was some type of glimmer in the darkness to hold onto, no matter what the situation.

Isaac sighed, dropping his gaze again to prod at his food. It was no wonder they never got along.

"I don't--I don't even know my roommate's name," he said with a hint of surprised in his voice. It hadn't even occurred to him until that very moment that there had been absolutely no introduction between himself and Snow. "...That's just sad," he commented aloud, blinking as the realization worked its way through his mind.

[human_sponge]

While Isaac gave that response, it seemed to be done out of the need to be contrary rather than anything else, mainly because he didn't clarify. Peter was pretty sure that none of them had ever imagined that there could be real monsters in the world, not to mention the other patients with their insane (yet true) stories. Even after spending so much time here, a day didn't go by that Peter wasn't shocked by something -- and this was coming from someone who'd almost blown up New York single-handedly.

Maybe the other man just didn't want to feel like he could make excuses for not acting. Peter really didn't have the easiest time trying to get into Isaac's head. Other people he could read, but Isaac was a tough nut to crack and that was probably why they'd never really gotten along so well.

Still, it wasn't like anyone could motivate Isaac except for himself, and that was probably the whole issue. If he couldn't get himself to suck it up and leave his room at night, then he was pretty much doomed to always stay there. Which, once again, wasn't exactly bad -- but it was clear that Isaac was beating himself up over it. But if he couldn't get himself to change that...

It was hard for Peter to wrap his head around, even when he was actively trying like this. Maybe it would be better if he worked on the roommate angle instead. "Well, you can ask tonight, right?" he suggested as he took another bite of the fish. "I mean, what's he like? Does he always keep to himself, or do you think he'd let you tag along?"

Peter knew that not everyone could be as lucky as he was when it came to roommates; sure, Sam was secretive, but they also had a lot in common and they got along. He was grateful for that.

[future_games]

"He's...nice," Isaac replied absently. "More talkative than I'm used to."

Of course, everyone was more talkative than Isaac was used to. Snow wasn't even particularly chatty by normal standards and there was nothing about him that particularly bothered Isaac, but he always managed to distance himself so far from other people that "nice and "talkative" were the only words the painter could think to describe his roommate.

He really had to wonder, though, had it always been that way? Had it always been so difficult to let anyone in? He couldn't remember. It wasn't that he thought talking to someone about all these issues wouldn't help, but he could barely recall a time when he could speak about himself and express what he was feeling without forcing himself to bite the more painful details back. It was difficult to describe, but now he felt as though he had been haphazardly reassembled for Landel's alone. He was made up of impossible knots and pieces of a shattered whole that simply didn't fit properly into place anymore. He was absolutely miserable, but there was something in him that wanted to function normally again. He wanted to do something good with the second chance he had been given.

Once again, he turned his gaze uncertainly to Peter. "Do...you think I'm wrong for acting this way?,"he asked, a little guarded. "I mean...going from wanting to die to...this?" Going from suicidal to gaining a massive hero complex, was what he was trying not to say. He shook his head and stabbed at the remains of the fish on his plate. "It's not normal," he continued, forcing himself to put more faith into his trust in Peter and open up just a little, for his own sake. "I barely know what I want to feel anymore."

[human_sponge]

Talkative and nice sounded like good qualities to have in a roommate for someone like Isaac. While Peter didn't know the painter that well, he could tell that he needed people around him who could pull him out of his shell, who could make him act even when all he wanted to do was hide behind the fog of a drug. Peter wondered if the man had gotten sedated since he'd arrived here, and hoped that he hadn't.

The sudden question from the man took Peter off guard, mainly because it was more open than he was used to Isaac being. The man was always so closed off and defensive that it was difficult to even piece together what he was asking. Peter stalled for a second or two by grabbing for another french fry, dipping it in some ketchup before taking a bite.

"What's 'this'?" he asked, since the implication wasn't one that he was able to pick up on. It seemed to him that Isaac was confused and taken aback by this second chance at life, and understandably so. He didn't know how Isaac had died (well, he knew the gritty details, but he wasn't sure what the man had felt at that moment), but he'd obviously expected it to be permanent. And then he'd woken up from death to... a place like this.

"Anyway, I think it's perfectly normal to not know how to deal with this place, especially since... yeah, before this you were..." Peter didn't have any qualms with talking about death, but it was kind of different when it was someone who'd already been through it and hadn't come back instantly the way he and Claire had.

[future_games]

"This," he sighed, putting a little more emphasis on the word. He didn't want to explain. He didn't want to say it like it really was: Trying to be like you. That's exactly what it was. Did Peter even realize what a long shadow he cast? He was a freaking saint, could never do wrong on purpose, and it still made Isaac's stomach turn with jealously. Even though Simone was gone and there was nothing left worth fighting over, there was still part of Isaac that longed to be out of Peter's shadow. To be something more than the washed-out junkie he was always going to be at the end of the day, with or without drugs. He would always crave that rush.

But he had to come up with a way to describe what he was feeling. He could easily drop a subject when it was brought up by someone else, and it was him who had brought this one up--in what he was now thinking was a stupid move. It was only appropriate to follow through it with it, though.

He tried again.

"This...wanting too much." That sounded good. Truthful enough, while still disguising what he was really thinking. "Wanting to be more than I am. Wanting..."

The painted trailed off again, shaking his head. "I was dead." He took the liberty of finishing Peter's sentence. "There's not supposed to be anything afte that. You're not supposed to come back from that. You're not supposed to feel."

[human_sponge]

Even as Isaac tried to honestly explain what it was that he was going through, Peter still had a hard time following along. It was because they were different on such a basic level, and he realized that, but he still struggled to understand. But what was wrong with wanting things? And was there really such a thing as "more than I am"? Peter didn't think so; he felt that everyone had the ability to improve if they really worked at it. But Isaac was a pessimist through and through, so...

The comments about death were a little easier to deal with, and so he focused on that first. "I know you were," he said with a nod. "But you've got to face that that's changed. I know this seems like a pretty bad deal, to come back and be here, but... that doesn't mean you shouldn't even try."

Was he really giving him advice? Peter thought he could be pretty inspirational when he wanted to be, and he'd certainly convinced Isaac to help him assemble the paintings before, but it still felt odd to be giving him a pep talk like this, especially with how things had ended between them.

"I've come back from the dead before." He knew it wasn't the same, but he wasn't going to split hairs over it now. Making a connection was his main goal at that moment. "Maybe it doesn't make sense, but neither does painting the future, right? The first thing you need to do is just... accept that it happened, even if it doesn't make sense. Then you can move on from there."