Nightshift 42: Mystic Healing Spa and Acupuncture
The day had been nice, albeit a hungry one. The Scarecrow had given his breakfast bag to Scourge, then he'd apparently missed Lunch by wandering about and contemplating his existence and coming into the Spa and such. Thinking took up so much time, and massages seemingly took up even more. It didn't seem like it'd been very long- maybe the strong odor of the place had some sort of special effect on the human body where it made time pass faster somehow. There were so many things he couldn't explain, and he didn't feel like trying at the moment. He sat in the comfy chair with his eyes closed, attempting to learn how not to think so much. This seemed so backward. It should be thinking that was hard, not not-thinking.
At least the whole 'massage' experience had been nice, and made his body feel a lot more like his old self: loose, less stiff, more free, as strange as it sounded. The kind lady had left him to his thoughts when she was finished, encouraging him to relax for a while. Maybe that while was where all the time had gone; by the time he opened his eyes, most of the light had disappeared from outside. Surely he'd not missed the bus ride back to the institute- one would think the nurses would notice a missing patient, despite how many of them there were.
He sat up from his chair, hearing noise from the front room. Maybe it was the woman who'd led him in here, or the other one who'd given him the massage, or maybe another one of the institute's residents had come into the establishment. It didn't seem to be any of those options, but a different person altogether- someone who seemed to be having some trouble walking straight as they sort of shambled around the lobby. The Scarecrow was naturally inclined to help him- after all, he'd needed help learning to walk right, himself. Maybe this guy was also some sort of a non-human who was adjusting to a human body? That'd mean they'd have something in common, and making new friends was always high on the to-do list.
Climbing off the chair, the Scarecrow walked into the entry room and toward the unbalanced man. "You need some help, sir?" he asked, using his more formal tone. The poor guy seemed ill, and far beyond a simple lack of balance and walking grace. As the former strawman neared him, the stranger lurched at him with an unusual movement, his teeth gnashing wildly as he let loose a ghastly moan. He caught the Scarecrow by surprise- thankfully, his own unbalance was his saving grace: his ankle twisted awkwardly has he stepped backward, causing his leg to collapse sideways underneath him. The lurching man missed and fell face-first to the floor, but that didn't hinder him much. He was already making it to his feet again as the Scarecrow scrambled toward the door, still attempting to regain his own footing.
At least the whole 'massage' experience had been nice, and made his body feel a lot more like his old self: loose, less stiff, more free, as strange as it sounded. The kind lady had left him to his thoughts when she was finished, encouraging him to relax for a while. Maybe that while was where all the time had gone; by the time he opened his eyes, most of the light had disappeared from outside. Surely he'd not missed the bus ride back to the institute- one would think the nurses would notice a missing patient, despite how many of them there were.
He sat up from his chair, hearing noise from the front room. Maybe it was the woman who'd led him in here, or the other one who'd given him the massage, or maybe another one of the institute's residents had come into the establishment. It didn't seem to be any of those options, but a different person altogether- someone who seemed to be having some trouble walking straight as they sort of shambled around the lobby. The Scarecrow was naturally inclined to help him- after all, he'd needed help learning to walk right, himself. Maybe this guy was also some sort of a non-human who was adjusting to a human body? That'd mean they'd have something in common, and making new friends was always high on the to-do list.
Climbing off the chair, the Scarecrow walked into the entry room and toward the unbalanced man. "You need some help, sir?" he asked, using his more formal tone. The poor guy seemed ill, and far beyond a simple lack of balance and walking grace. As the former strawman neared him, the stranger lurched at him with an unusual movement, his teeth gnashing wildly as he let loose a ghastly moan. He caught the Scarecrow by surprise- thankfully, his own unbalance was his saving grace: his ankle twisted awkwardly has he stepped backward, causing his leg to collapse sideways underneath him. The lurching man missed and fell face-first to the floor, but that didn't hinder him much. He was already making it to his feet again as the Scarecrow scrambled toward the door, still attempting to regain his own footing.