(no subject)
Who: Isaac Mendez & Ted Sprague {Closed}
What: Official inmate and warden meeting. :D
When: Thursday~
Where: CES
Warnings: Nothing really, I imagine. Just the usual bitchy inmate/warden fiascoes.
It was either incredibly bad luck or some sick joke courtesy of the Admiral that Isaac's new warden embodied almost everything the painter was trying to escape. He hated Ted with every fiber of his being, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. It was all based upon one simple fact: if Ted hadn't existed back home, the month-long nightmare that had been Isaac's life wouldn't have happened.
Isaac's attitude towards Ted was a stark difference to how he was with Jo. Just a month ago, he had been more than willing to speak and work his way towards graduation. Almost cheerful, even. But now he was right back to the condition he was in when he arrived. He had already locked himself away, voluntarily quarantined his emotions into the very back of his mind. All he felt right now were the effects of two hours of sleep and a day without eating.
But still, unwilling as he had been, the painter kept to Ted's schedule and dragged himself to the second floor as if it were the most difficult thing in the world. Leaning against the entrance to the CES, he waited and contemplated whether or not it was too late to run.
What: Official inmate and warden meeting. :D
When: Thursday~
Where: CES
Warnings: Nothing really, I imagine. Just the usual bitchy inmate/warden fiascoes.
It was either incredibly bad luck or some sick joke courtesy of the Admiral that Isaac's new warden embodied almost everything the painter was trying to escape. He hated Ted with every fiber of his being, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. It was all based upon one simple fact: if Ted hadn't existed back home, the month-long nightmare that had been Isaac's life wouldn't have happened.
Isaac's attitude towards Ted was a stark difference to how he was with Jo. Just a month ago, he had been more than willing to speak and work his way towards graduation. Almost cheerful, even. But now he was right back to the condition he was in when he arrived. He had already locked himself away, voluntarily quarantined his emotions into the very back of his mind. All he felt right now were the effects of two hours of sleep and a day without eating.
But still, unwilling as he had been, the painter kept to Ted's schedule and dragged himself to the second floor as if it were the most difficult thing in the world. Leaning against the entrance to the CES, he waited and contemplated whether or not it was too late to run.