015

[thisisherson]

[See Kurt Hummel. See Kurt Hummel looking incredibly unimpressed. Or trying to, anyway.]

An asylum. Really? Are we running through all medical facilities in events now? Should I expect to be in a veterinary clinic next week? This is seriously ridiculous, even for Wonderland

Comments

[Action]

[dashboardlite]

Dean sits quietly, watching the minute details of expression changing on Kurt's face. Mild surprise, occasional frustration, the slight twitch at the side of his mouth that indicates displeasure. It's nice, at least, to see some emotion on the kid; it's better than he was before, robotic and cold. Kurt Hummel writes methodically, the pen scratching over thin paper with something close to vehemence at times, and Dean wonders which part he's looking at.

Oh.

Dean looks away guiltily, rubbing the nape of his neck and waiting for the young man to finish. When he's through, Kurt hands him back the folder and out of insane curiosity, Dean opens it to see the edited version. He snorts, green eyes flickering quickly over the alterations and addendum.

"Well excuuuse me, Princess," He laughs, licking the pad of one finger and flipping to the next page. 'McDreamy', huh? Sounds like a milkshake from Mickey D's. The older man glosses over Kurt's additional notes, eyebrows rising into his hairline. Oh, he was cheeky. A manicure kit and hairspray? Really?

Dean actually looks up to scrutinize the other's hair. Well. Kurt appears to be a compulsively tidy, meticulous person, if anything can be derived from his neat handwriting. Dean shuts the folder again, setting it on the table. "If I let you walk outta here like a freed jailbird," He smiles, voice low but dripping with amusement. "Who on earth will teach me how to sing again?"

[Action]

[thisisherson]

[Yes, really. If he has to spend three days in here until the event ends, his cuticles are going to get atrocious. Kurt rolls his eyes, but it's secretly comforting to hear Dean acting like himself. But he still has his dignity to protect.]

I am not a princess.

[He catches Dean looking at his hair, and shifts a bit, adjusting it self-consciously. He knows it looks far from his best (though by any other person's standards it was probably fine. It just didn't feel like his hair if it wasn't cemented in place.) He's done his best with what he has, but he can't help brushing his bangs up to the side in frustration.]

Oh, I'm sure you'll manage somehow. Besides, I'm sure I'll get the opportunity eventually.

[You know, in a couple days' time. Kurt returns that smile. In order to keep from being too suspicious, he adds:] No one ever said I could only give the lessons here. I'm sure the acoustics in this asylum are atrocious.

[Action]

[dashboardlite]

"Uh-huh, sure," Dean mumbles idly at the protest, fingertips grazing back over the smooth manilla folder. He's a little unhappy he can't just destroy them, but they ought to be re-filed with all this new, important information that's written so nicely in a handwriting completely different from his own.

He rolls his eyes. "All right, all right. I know a dodge when I see one. Later, then." 'Later' always sounds like an ultimatum. Dean lifts one half of the folder delicately, peering in and memorizing the contents.

"...so a manicure kit and hairspray? That'll keep you happy?" Eh. To each his own. He lets the papers drop again, and pushes his chair back. Standing, Dean stacks all the documents rather haphazardly, somewhat more nervous to go out into the rest of the asylum feeling less than himself. He's tired of cryptic replies and shrugged-off commentary. The man pauses again, folders tucked under one arm, the fingers of his left hand splayed on the tabletop. Dean looks thoughtful, remembering something Kurt had said earlier in their conversation.

"You said before that I wear flannel and a leather jacket." He glances down at his hospital-issue scrubs and lab coat, grimacing. It all feels heavy and strange compared to whatever Kurt is dreaming up. "Please tell me I look better in that than I do in this."

[Action]

[thisisherson]

For now it will. My moisturizing routine has already been ruined by my imprisonment here, but I really can't stand looking at my nails as they are now, and my hair is completely unruly. I'll take what comforts from the "outside world" [He air quotes, again. There isn't really an outside world here, at least as far as Wonderland goes.] I can get. Besides, if I asked for all of my products, I might bankrupt the asylum.

[Kurt eyes Dean though, both genuinely considering the question and trying to decide how much to give away.]

Well. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that flannel and the same worn-out jacket are appealing fashion choices, but they're a step up from scrubs at the least.

[A pause.]

...It suits you better though. I'd be shocked and possibly frightened if you suddenly had fashion sense. As much as I'd love to just be able to wave a magic wand and make people more fashion conscious, it doesn't actually work like that.

[Action]

[dashboardlite]

"...wow, Kurt, tell me how you really feel," Dean retorts sarcastically, the cynical remark counteracted by the grin on his face. He's getting more out of Kurt than the kid probably knows, and all he'd wanted in the first place was to dredge up more info on himself.

"You can dress me up like a Ken doll later if you're that offended by my doppleganger's lumberjack chic look, but now you ought to be a little nicer to me since I'm the guy getting you hair products and-" He looks at the list again. "...an obscene amount of tools related to cuticles."

Dean smacks the table with his stack of folders. "Anything else, your Highne- Oh! That's all organic, by the way." He waves one hand over the neglected lunch, smirking. No one could say he didn't pay attention when it counter. "Feel free to pick at it. Any other questions?"

About me? About this place? About anything pertaining to what you know and I don't?