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
(
He wasn't sure. )
Comments 26
That was peculiar though. He was sure he'd been seeing all this patients, unless... he'd really been that buried under his own agenda. No, that wasn't right.
This wasn't exactly what he needed right now. Seemed he wasn't wanted here - well, that makes two people now, one of whom was already expelled. Then again, that wasn't new. He didn't even care in the first place.
Regardless, Black Jack hm'ed and folded his arms, not fazed in the least. He nodded just slightly towards Zexion, for what reason, he wasn't sure, but it was nice to know that he wasn't detested by everyone in the institution.
"Torn," he started with an icy tone, "I'm your doctor, and if you really want to change that, you may proceed to go ice-skating on the pond over there and skip being tormented to death by any of them."
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Standing up, the motion evening their heights well enough, he frowned and crossed his arms as well. He didn't notice the motion loosened his dog-tags to fall through his scarf and against the chest of his turtleneck, placing the banned item in plain sight.
"You're making it sound like no one here is willing to do their job," the brunette replied as the patch of skin where an eyebrow should have been rose and his chin lowered.
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A discomfiting thought. While he reminisced the tense conversation continued, and Zexion was only brought back to the present when the man stood up. He certainly was tall, and the short boy resisted moving behind Black Jack in reaction.
There was no reason to be afraid, he told himself firmly, even if his mind panicked a bit every time he encountered someone intimidating.
The small jingle of Torn's dog-tags brought his attention to it, and Zexion tilted his head. Weren't chains against the rules? Eyes going to Black Jack, he waited to see if he noticed.
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He would have continued had he not heard the tiniest sound, and his eyes found their way to the certain items that the other man had in his possession.
The doctor raised an eyebrow in response, almost mimicking the other man, except he had not intended to do so.
"... and I assume those are yours?" he said smoothly, head tilted the slightest bit to take a better look at the dog-tags.
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...wait. Torn was a patient in a mental hospital, not an officer. Patches was his doctor.
...dammit...
Still, the man barely blinked when his dog-tags were mentioned. Thank you, years of training. Truly, there was just a tiny moment of panic there, but considering what other people were getting away with here--including the faculty--he couldn't give a rats ass about keeping a necklace on.
"No," was the flat reply only a moment after the initial question. "They're not. I stole them from another crazy person before heading outside."
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"And why would you steal someone else's dog tags?" Zexion finally spoke for the first time, his tone slightly incredulous. He had seen patients get away with a lot in the way of restricted items (one of the reasons he didn't go to group therapy or the nap room anymore) even though they had been thoroughly searched upon entering.
True, if the giant tall man actually had stolen them from someone else, then it would probably be for malicious intent. What else would someone be doing with a restricted and potentially deadly item in an asylum?
It was an unnerving thought, but Zexion supposed that if the man answered anything along those lines then he would be apprehended by Black Jack. Besides, wouldn't a simple look at the tags show who owned them? There didn't seem to be any motive to lie.
But this was Malaise, and the man was insane in one way or another, so that could be motive enough.
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