Bah. So much for yet another suggestion of von Karma's. Such priorities this Institute had. They would implement a foolish suggestion to introduce origami lessons and to offer sewing supplies to select patients, yet refused to allow them to cleanse themselves more often than twice a week -- and, of course, without any additional privacy? How
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... Well, it couldn't be that much different than wearing only your swimming trunks when at a public beach. In fact, it would be exactly the same. Only without the swimming trunks. And the balmy atmosphere. Problem was everyone would see his tan lines. He'd just have to think of it as a necessary evil. After all, his hair was starting to look a bit weighted down from the past two nights' perspiration.
He stripped down and moseyed over to a free shower head. He whistled a peppy little tune as he washed, paying close attention to his hair. He wondered briefly if they would provide him with any kind of haircare products to help get his bangs back in order, but something told him not to hold his breath.
[Harvey~]
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The man was absolutely coated in bandages; the whole left half of his face and his side, dressed and covered. What kind of monster could have gotten hold of him and left him injured quite like that? He'd seen some patients with injuries milling about the day before, and just this morning he had run into Gren and his arm had been bandaged. But this... this was ridiculous.
"Um, had a tough night there, sonny?" Gant asked, returning to his washing though his eyes remained fixed on the half-mummy man beside him. Gant needed to what it was and where it had attacked him, so he could make note of it and avoid it like the plague. He was not going to lose half his face ( ... )
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Granted, Harvey wasn't quite used to someone asking after him in that way, and so it was mild surprise that caused him to look to his side at the questioner against his better judgment. The man he saw was unexpected for a few reasons: one, the fact that he was far above the normal age range here (Harvey already was, and this stranger probably had about twenty years on him), and two, that he had a seriously impressive tan going on.
Normally he would have been annoyed at someone calling him "sonny" (it screamed condescension), but for the moment he was just too flabbergasted to think much of it. He realized that he looked even worse for the wear considering the burn wound on his side (he was sure it complimented the one on his face so well), but nonetheless, that didn't mean people needed to fret over him ( ... )
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Letting the shampoo sit in his hair for a moment, Harvey focused on Gant's response. The Chief of Police? That was nothing to sneeze at, but it also wasn't as ridiculous as Hammer's claim that he was the CEO of some super-important company that he'd never even heard of. Nonetheless, it ( ... )
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"What a coincidence! I'm friends with lots of attorney back home! Prosecutors, mostly." He actually preferred prosecutors. They helped him get criminals canned, while defense attorneys were on the other side, helping those maggots when they got caught. Wrighto may have been different, but most defense attorneys were no better than the scum they represented.
Gant finally started working on washing his body, but he was pretty routine about it. Not nearly as devoted as he had been with his hair. "A few of those prosecutor friends are here, in fact." And one's about as quiet and cold as you. "Hope they survived last night."
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But it turned out that Gant did know Lana. She hadn't even been around here that long, so they must have met up recently, which made sense if they knew each other from home. Harvey was kind of curious to know what the woman's opinion of the police chief was, but he clearly wasn't going to find out until he spoke with her again. He would just have to make a point of tracking her down soon ( ... )
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