[closed] Good deeds may not be rewarded
Who: Hong Kong chinese_pearl and Doctor Huan sanctuary_docs
What: Hong Kong makes a special treat for Doctor Huan
When: April 8, 1946, early afternoon
Where: Huan's office
Rating: probably no more than PG
This place was getting to him. It had taken him a while to realize, weeks closed up mostly in his room only to dart out to the kitchen for food when he absolutely needed it, ruminating on his behavior in the first few days he'd been in the building, the people around him, the situation they were all stuck in. He knew, for someone like him, there was no hope in forcing his way out of the situation; all he could do was put his head down and hope for the best, as he'd learned to do at an early age, and hope for some connection that would aid him in the long road that would help him in getting out of this dreadful, too-quiet building.
And that was why, about a week after the power came back on, when the storm had finally died off and it looked like the sun was going to come out for summer finally, Hong Kong woke early and decided that he was going to make a valuable connection--even if part of him said it was dangerous to be making those kind of decisions without England's approval. He'd been in the kitchen since about nine, making dough from scratch and cutting up pork he'd found in the back of the freezer that was luckily still good and had thawed well, marinating lightly, finally putting everything together and finding a few make-shift things to steam everything. When he was done, he had a plate abounding with ten plump white char siu bau, which he took to the nurses station in an attempt to get them to let him pass to the doctors' offices.
It took some shy, sly little smiles and even a sacrifice of one of the precious bread-dumplings to the sterner of the two nurses before he was let through. Then, by memory of his therapy session, he went back to Tianyu Huan's office, and politely knocked, waiting for him to answer the door.
What: Hong Kong makes a special treat for Doctor Huan
When: April 8, 1946, early afternoon
Where: Huan's office
Rating: probably no more than PG
This place was getting to him. It had taken him a while to realize, weeks closed up mostly in his room only to dart out to the kitchen for food when he absolutely needed it, ruminating on his behavior in the first few days he'd been in the building, the people around him, the situation they were all stuck in. He knew, for someone like him, there was no hope in forcing his way out of the situation; all he could do was put his head down and hope for the best, as he'd learned to do at an early age, and hope for some connection that would aid him in the long road that would help him in getting out of this dreadful, too-quiet building.
And that was why, about a week after the power came back on, when the storm had finally died off and it looked like the sun was going to come out for summer finally, Hong Kong woke early and decided that he was going to make a valuable connection--even if part of him said it was dangerous to be making those kind of decisions without England's approval. He'd been in the kitchen since about nine, making dough from scratch and cutting up pork he'd found in the back of the freezer that was luckily still good and had thawed well, marinating lightly, finally putting everything together and finding a few make-shift things to steam everything. When he was done, he had a plate abounding with ten plump white char siu bau, which he took to the nurses station in an attempt to get them to let him pass to the doctors' offices.
It took some shy, sly little smiles and even a sacrifice of one of the precious bread-dumplings to the sterner of the two nurses before he was let through. Then, by memory of his therapy session, he went back to Tianyu Huan's office, and politely knocked, waiting for him to answer the door.