Day 48: Men's Showers [Fourth Shift]

[not_rly_fai]

After a rough morning, Lunch was actually fairly easy to sit through.  Sechs and Kibitoshin hardly knew him, so light conversation was fine.  The things from Breakfast and this morning though, would be sticking with him for a while.  When the nurse arrived to take him to showers, he was relieved to find he was the first one there.  With that, there

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[loyal_soldier]

622 was glad for a chance to get clean, although he could have done without the nurse telling him every three minutes that even though his stitches were out, the cuts on his leg were still healing and he should be careful with them. It wasn't as if he couldn't tell himself, he felt the pull of the healing gashes every time he took a step.

The nurse removed the bandage from his leg and he efficiently took off his clothes, heading for the closest shower and turned it on, sighing contentedly as the water hit his skin. He started scrubbing himself down, although admittedly he might have been taking a bit more time than he needed. He just liked the feel of the hot water.

[Free!]

[no_barbarian]

Food and a shower, two of the best things in life. It was just too bad that two of the best things in life currently took place in Hell itself, but Teisel was working on that.

Even if he wasn't making much progress.

Still, there was no point in breaking out of a demonic insane asylum with greasy hair, so he settled in to work. This was always such a time-consuming- "Aw, damnit." The shampoo bottle was only a quarter full. That definitely wasn't going to be enough. The guy next to him had short hair, surely he wouldn't mind if Teisel borrowed his shampoo. And if he did mind...well, screw him. This was an important matter of hygiene.

"Hey, buddy, mind if I use this?" he asked, leaning over to grab the bottle.

[loyal_soldier]

TK looked up at the taller man who had just taken the shower next to him. Well... he could certainly see why he was being asked for extra. "Go ahead, I've already taken what I needed." Which wasn't much, his hair still being at regulation length.

Frankly, he didn't understand why anyone would keep their hair longer. It would just be a weakness, given how many hand holds you could get on it. Or maybe even get it stuck in a door with how long this person's hair was. It was just so strange.

[no_barbarian]

Huh. Teisel never really expected folks to just...give him things. That was kind of a nice change of pace. Not quite worth the effort of asking every time he wanted something, but still nice. "Thanks, guy." Squeezing out as much shampoo as his cupped hand would hold, he got down to business. "This stuff's kinda high-maintenance, y'know?"

[loyal_soldier]

"It... looks it." 622 replied, not quite sure what else to say, apart from asking an incredibly stupid question. "...Why do you keep it that way if it takes so much time?" It was just bothering for someone whose whole life had revolved around efficiency and efficacy.

[no_barbarian]

Teisel paused. "Y'know, I couldn't really tell you. I just like it this way." Shrugging, he went back to working the shampoo through the last few feet of his hair. "Why do you keep yours so short?"

[loyal_soldier]

"To conform to military regulation, ensure good hygiene even when facilities are limited, easy fitting for a helmet, no potential hand-holds for an enemy when fighting without a helmet, and personal preference," 622 replied, taking a far less philosophical route than what might have been intended. "Unless there's an excellent and immediate reason not to, I like to stick to regulation."

[no_barbarian]

Oh. He was one of those. Teisel especially liked how 'personal preference' was at the bottom of the list. "I'll have you know there's nothing wrong with my hygiene," he said peevishly. "And my helmet fits perfectly." Of course, most helmets probably didn't have a hole to pull a ponytail through, but Teisel regarded a small vulnerable spot a fair price to pay for his signature feature. Also, his hair was so thick it was about equivalent to plugging the hole in the helmet with a stout piece of rope.

His bottle of conditioner was full, and it would probably be empty by the time he was done. This time, Teisel started working through his hair from the tips up. It tended to get crispy down there at the ends. "Maybe you should grow your hair out a little, guy. Might help you loosen up."

[loyal_soldier]

"I wasn't implying there was. But there isn't always soap or a chance to wash on a long deployment." Such as when you had to hunt out rebels in the swampy forests of Malastare for days, never mind dealing with the nexu and everything else with far too many teeth on that planet. That had been on one of his first missions under Commander Akobi, although he still couldn't remember it with fondness, even out of deference for the Commander's memory.

"I... don't think it would be my style. Besides, it wouldn't work as well as yours." That was as good an excuse as any, probably better than most anything else he could come up with.

[no_barbarian]

Mollified at the man's assurance that he wasn't a slob (nobody calls Teisel Bonne's grooming into question!), Teisel nodded. "I come and go as I please, but I'll admit it can get a little dusty when I've been on a long dig." He didn't see it as much of a problem, certainly not worth cutting his hair over. Besides, the only person who minded when he was dirty was Tron, and he was quick to point out that she could get just as grungy and smelly when she working on one of her robots.

He sighed, looking down at the tile floor wistfully. Hopefully she was doing all right without him. She was a genius, but she needed someone around to make sure she ate and slept and bathed enough.

...But there was no use in moping. That kind of defeatist attitude was what was keeping him in here. With effort, he forced himself back to the topic at hand, just in time to receive a compliment. At least, he took it as one. "Thanks! I'm told I have the right face for it." Teisel decided he liked this guy. "You're alright for a soldier, y'know?"

[loyal_soldier]

"What is your profession, then?" His was already obvious, given what he'd said, and his general fun-sucking black hole of a personality. Well, that at least was the impression of himself he'd gotten from some others here.

622 shrugged. "I just try to do right by the standards of conduct I was created to uphold." Also, he was getting better at talking like a civvie, sometimes. Namely, getting out of saying something that might get him smacked one upside the head.

[no_barbarian]

Puffing out his chest, Teisel flashed the man his best roguish grin. "You're looking at one of the most feared pirates ever to travels the skies! Do you know I captured Kimotoma City in one day? And with no casualties whatsoever! How's that for a clean job, eh?" He knew he was resting on his laurels somewhat with the whole Kimotoma business, but it was an impressive feat. Too bad Rock Volnutt had chosen to stick his snotty nose into everyone else's business and ruined the whole thing. ...But that part of the story wasn't important.

"Standards of conduct, huh?" he said, one soggy eyebrow rising. "I bet you're the life of the party." Maybe the life of one of those boring parties that islanders were so fond of. Classical music and cucumber sandwiches, hoo-ey.

[loyal_soldier]

"...It certainly sounds impressive." He didn't like the idea of talking to an obvious outlaw, but... oh, kriff it. He already talked to Xigbar, who was probably worse.

"Admittedly, I have been called a hard-arse, even by my own men." Or at least the recruits. Non-clones sometimes felt entitled to making commentary about their Sergeants. "And at a party, I'd probably be less fun than any given piece of the furniture, but that wasn't what I was made for."

[no_barbarian]

"I know!" Teisel crowed. "And I'm not a half-bad Digger, either, if I do say so myself." And he did, at every opportunity. "It's the only way to live. Mother always said it was important to have a career that really makes you happy. A vocation, if you will." He hadn't been here two weeks and he already missed it horribly. The nights were a sub-par substitute for a proper dig, and he was starting to seriously consider raiding this place's pantry, just for the sake of raiding something.

"No offense, guy, but I think the men you're bossing around would be top of the list to call you a hard-ass. That's just natural." He narrowed his eyes. "Say, you keep talking about being 'created' and 'made.' You a robot, or something?" The idea of a sentient robot in and of itself was perfectly normal to Teisel, seeing as they comprised most of his crew-slash-family, but he didn't think he ever get used to the idea of someone who used to be a robot.

[loyal_soldier]

"I... wouldn't know about that sort of thing." A 'mother' was a foreign concept to him, after all. That and the other important fact that he had no clue what a 'Digger' was. Doing his duty had always made him feel... satisfied, when things went smoothly. Was that what was being talked about?

622 kept quiet on the next comment, simply nodding slightly. It was probably true, he'd just never had much exposure to anyone else to be able to tell. "No, I'm not a droid. I'm a clone, made to be a Stormtrooper for the Imperial Armed Forces." Despite what he'd heard so many times from officers or that blasted rebel spy, there was a difference, even if he hadn't always seen it himself.

[no_barbarian]

Filled with thoughts of home, Teisel hummed a little tune while his rinsed his hair. "Huh. Sucks for you, I guess."

Okay, now the guy had his full attention. "A clone? Really?" Now that was out there. "Wow, just like in a movie! So, you all look the same and everything? Do you, y'know, finish each other's sentences?" For a moment, he entertained the thought of commanding a whole fleet's worth of Teisel Bonnes. ...Nah. All of those hims would probably be too rowdy to keep in line. Besides, he was the genuine article, and there could only be one.

He wondered what it was like to not be the genuine article. "What's it feel like? I mean, I know it'd bother me to think I'm just a copy of someone else." He had a hard enough time wrapping his head around the thought of his species being a copy of another species, and that was a much more distant sort of thing.