Wir teilen Zimmer und das Bett...
Characters: Zhou Yu apyrostrategy, Heine Rammsteiner canisorption, and ANY NEIGHBORS WHO WANT TO GAWK
Setting/Location: Alpha Tower, Room S-113
Date & Time: Day 51, from there...who knows? Whenever Zhou decides to crash and notice, probably. (Time is immaterial~)
Warnings: Violence to furniture of a level unseen since Fight Club's treatment of IKEA, and amazingly antisocial people.
Summary: Heine doesn't deal well with new places, and he doesn't do roommates. Especially ones from eras where soldiers share beds.
Heine was lying on the wreckage of his mattress busy trying to sleep.
It was tricky enough for him since he liked a fine line to his sleep: just far enough to doze and feel almost-rested, and not far enough to let that thing in the back of his neck start talking, or the nightmares about Lilly start up again, or deep enough to let Giovanni to peer in, pestering and taunting him like a demon on his shoulder until he wasn't sure if he was there for real or not.
He liked to avoid sleep at the best of times, with video games, or movies, or just wandering the city--but that wasn't an option here or now. Even the wandering bit. Getting punted unceremoniously from a city full of people who needed help desperately enough not to be choosy except when it came to him was bad enough. Who knew what the people here would think. They likely wouldn't be any more gracious, that was for sure. He was used to it: being young and fucking bizzare looking... The fact he was used to it didn't make it any less of a pain.
New places made it worse. Particularly moving ones. The motion kept jarring him as he lay on his side like a dog in a pile of newspapers, disorienting and alarming him. His collar ached already, and he rubbed it, setting one of his rolls of bandages up by his head, unwinding the cloth from his throat so he could pick at the metal.
It wasn't just the moving. He'd seen he was meant to have a roommate.
As if this place weren't mostly empty anyway and they were really that tight on space.
It was probably a deliberate torment, to see what would happen if you stuck too many peopel together. It seemed like a sick joke, but he was too tired and irritable to argue, so he'd moved in and stacked what possessions he could find that weren't his outside the room.
He hadn't been overly careful about it, but he hadn't broken anything, which was pretty much a gesture of goodwill. It wasn't anything personal. It was just the breathing from the next room alone was almost enough to drive him nuts. Having someone else taking up the oxygen, and taking up the space in his room would be enough to never let him get anything out of the way. His brain would be too preoccupied running battle maneuvering plans, and formulating escape routes. It was just how he was, and he didn't want to explain it, didn't want to deal with it.
So while everything thought he was a miserable mongrel who'd piss in his own food, he might as well act the part.
So once he was done, he'd turned back around, and taken it out on the room.
He'd wrenched the bunk off from where it was bolted to the floor, smashing the chairs, kicking the table aside. He'd shot the connector for the top bunk, grimacing and jerking the metal until it bent.
He'd talked to some people, too along the way. Without Badou there he felt a little less human than usual, and a little more jumpy. Even a bunch of strangers seemed better that being left with his head even if they were fucking idiots.
It was...harder than usual to break things, and that laughing voice in the back of his neck was quieter--muffled like it was far off. Everything was harder. It felt ominous, but...he'd managed to bend the metal into a sturdy enough arc, setting one mattress up on the outside like a parody of a child's fort, and battering a blanket over the window so the light wouldn't come in and jolt him nearly out of his skin any more than he already had been.
Then he'd torn up the mattress that would have been his and dumped it in the corner, making himself a lump of tattered fluff to rest on. There. A doghouse.
He hated this place already, even if it was the past, or the future or whatever. And Badou hadn't met up with him at the town. Being fashionably late was one thing.
...Maybe he really was "late".
Heine shut his eyes and grunted, rubbing the cold metal against his spine. Whatever.
It would be stupid to get attached to that fucking ginger nut anyway, it wasn't like he'd last with how he acted about everything...
He'd almost convinced himself that he didn't care.
Heine grimaced, and stood, working to sink the mattress springs into the edges of the window frame to hold the blanket in place as a makeshift curtain, tamping it into the wall so even the slightest light wouldn't disturb him, then flopped onto his side in the fluff and the wreckage, throwing an arm up and over his face, knocking his mauser out onto the bedding beside him like a precaution.
Whatever. He didn't care. Badou could take care of himself. And that roommate--whoever he was--could find some other place to be. He hadn't slept in quite a while and he was tired.
Badou could take care of himself.
Setting/Location: Alpha Tower, Room S-113
Date & Time: Day 51, from there...who knows? Whenever Zhou decides to crash and notice, probably. (Time is immaterial~)
Warnings: Violence to furniture of a level unseen since Fight Club's treatment of IKEA, and amazingly antisocial people.
Summary: Heine doesn't deal well with new places, and he doesn't do roommates. Especially ones from eras where soldiers share beds.
Heine was lying on the wreckage of his mattress busy trying to sleep.
It was tricky enough for him since he liked a fine line to his sleep: just far enough to doze and feel almost-rested, and not far enough to let that thing in the back of his neck start talking, or the nightmares about Lilly start up again, or deep enough to let Giovanni to peer in, pestering and taunting him like a demon on his shoulder until he wasn't sure if he was there for real or not.
He liked to avoid sleep at the best of times, with video games, or movies, or just wandering the city--but that wasn't an option here or now. Even the wandering bit. Getting punted unceremoniously from a city full of people who needed help desperately enough not to be choosy except when it came to him was bad enough. Who knew what the people here would think. They likely wouldn't be any more gracious, that was for sure. He was used to it: being young and fucking bizzare looking... The fact he was used to it didn't make it any less of a pain.
New places made it worse. Particularly moving ones. The motion kept jarring him as he lay on his side like a dog in a pile of newspapers, disorienting and alarming him. His collar ached already, and he rubbed it, setting one of his rolls of bandages up by his head, unwinding the cloth from his throat so he could pick at the metal.
It wasn't just the moving. He'd seen he was meant to have a roommate.
As if this place weren't mostly empty anyway and they were really that tight on space.
It was probably a deliberate torment, to see what would happen if you stuck too many peopel together. It seemed like a sick joke, but he was too tired and irritable to argue, so he'd moved in and stacked what possessions he could find that weren't his outside the room.
He hadn't been overly careful about it, but he hadn't broken anything, which was pretty much a gesture of goodwill. It wasn't anything personal. It was just the breathing from the next room alone was almost enough to drive him nuts. Having someone else taking up the oxygen, and taking up the space in his room would be enough to never let him get anything out of the way. His brain would be too preoccupied running battle maneuvering plans, and formulating escape routes. It was just how he was, and he didn't want to explain it, didn't want to deal with it.
So while everything thought he was a miserable mongrel who'd piss in his own food, he might as well act the part.
So once he was done, he'd turned back around, and taken it out on the room.
He'd wrenched the bunk off from where it was bolted to the floor, smashing the chairs, kicking the table aside. He'd shot the connector for the top bunk, grimacing and jerking the metal until it bent.
He'd talked to some people, too along the way. Without Badou there he felt a little less human than usual, and a little more jumpy. Even a bunch of strangers seemed better that being left with his head even if they were fucking idiots.
It was...harder than usual to break things, and that laughing voice in the back of his neck was quieter--muffled like it was far off. Everything was harder. It felt ominous, but...he'd managed to bend the metal into a sturdy enough arc, setting one mattress up on the outside like a parody of a child's fort, and battering a blanket over the window so the light wouldn't come in and jolt him nearly out of his skin any more than he already had been.
Then he'd torn up the mattress that would have been his and dumped it in the corner, making himself a lump of tattered fluff to rest on. There. A doghouse.
He hated this place already, even if it was the past, or the future or whatever. And Badou hadn't met up with him at the town. Being fashionably late was one thing.
...Maybe he really was "late".
Heine shut his eyes and grunted, rubbing the cold metal against his spine. Whatever.
It would be stupid to get attached to that fucking ginger nut anyway, it wasn't like he'd last with how he acted about everything...
He'd almost convinced himself that he didn't care.
Heine grimaced, and stood, working to sink the mattress springs into the edges of the window frame to hold the blanket in place as a makeshift curtain, tamping it into the wall so even the slightest light wouldn't disturb him, then flopped onto his side in the fluff and the wreckage, throwing an arm up and over his face, knocking his mauser out onto the bedding beside him like a precaution.
Whatever. He didn't care. Badou could take care of himself. And that roommate--whoever he was--could find some other place to be. He hadn't slept in quite a while and he was tired.
Badou could take care of himself.