[In Progress]

[kazama_kuroo]

Title: Wasting Time
Characters: Black Jack, anybody who wants to join
Location: Somewhere outside Malaise (FREEZE TO DEATH? WHAT IS THIS 'FREEZE TO DEATH' YOU SPEAK OF?)
Rating: PG-13 in case of verbal outrage?
Summary: Was he really accomplishing anything here?
Date/Time: Day 19/Free Time

Comments

[cmdr_pinstripes]

Even if he'd been the first to make any sort of eye contact, Torn wasn't very happy at the realization that the two figures had noticed him. The closer they got, the more he disliked their gaze. One came from a youth with blue hair of all things, obscuring the view of one of his...her...its eyes. The gender of the person was so hard to place with those soft features and androgynous coat. He suspected that it could very well be a young man, but...he certainly wouldn't make any assumptions. The second, though obviously a man, was even stranger. Black and white hair together with stitched features that seemed to be made from different skin completely. It brought to mind a scarecrow, from the stitching, or maybe even more cliche, Frankenstein's monster itself

[hollowine]

Zexion stopped when Black Jack did; why exactly he had decided to stay with the older man was unclear. The only real reason he could think of was that he was one of the familiar faces that he was actually on a friendly basis with, which was a nice change of pace.

But just walking on would attract unwanted attention from the other two. Right now he was content with being silent next to the doctor, though the scrutiny with which the sitting man stared was a bit disconcerting.

After a small glance upward to Black Jack (was he planning on meeting the other male, or was it spur-of-the-moment? He had stopped rather abruptly . . .) Zexion tilted his head slightly and searched the seated one's face with little worry for being rude. Torn . . . a strange name, though he was sure he wasn't one to talk. No particular emotion could be pinpointed on the new man's expression, nor any reaction to the careful observing Torn had only recently been carrying out. How disappointing.It was obvious that if the man stood, he would be quite tall, but

[kazama_kuroo]

At the mention of his name, the doctor blinked.

"Torn..." he repeated (it was a bad habit he formed by now). It took him a moment to think about what it was about that name that seemed familiar.

Black Jack took a rather involuntary glance at Zexion, maybe half-expecting him to know something, except he wouldn't even know what was on his mind, so that idea was out the window -

What's wrong with me? I haven't been acting like myself. He pushed this thought aside to look back to the seated man and say something other than anything that made him sound like a broken record.

"So you're one of my new patients."

[cmdr_pinstripes]

Torn's face crinkled into a frown, and instant dislike growing for Patches, here.

So this guy was either his doctor or his therapist. He'd yet to see either since his stay at Malaise began, so really it didn't matter to him which he was. Either way, he was incompetent.

Torn knew how this place was supposed to be run. Three days in Malaise, and he'd just now met one of the people who was supposed to be helping him. He was supposed to meet his doctor and therapist each once a day. Instead, he'd been spending his mornings waiting for an hour, and his evenings contemplating the best ways to break into the kitchen to sedate his alcohol addiction.

What a tight ship they ran here. It gave the leader in him such a warm, fuzzy feeling. Oh, wait. Never mind. That was anger.

"So which are you?" Torn asked, crossing his arms and glaring up at the man. "My doctor or my therapist? And who should I talk to to get a replacement, considering I arrived days ago and we've just now run into one another."

[hollowine]

This man was obviously very judgmental; it could be seen on his face, if not his eyes. Already he seemed to be forming a bad opinion of the doctor standing beside him, one of the only doctors that Zexion found acceptable. Black Jack was kind, whether or not he was apparently inefficient at the moment.

But it wasn't his place to interrupt, Zexion knew this. If his friend needed help in handling this then he would surely offer it, but the small male was relatively certain he could deal with the patient by himself. And if he couldn't, then it was probably a mistake for him to be working at a mental institute.

Black Jack seemed off balance anyway, to say the least. To see how he would react to the seated man's sharp tongue in this state would be interesting; it only made Zexion a little bit more curious about what was wrong with him.

For the moment all the slate haired boy did was move minutely closer to the doctor, to at least remind him that he was there if needed.