(Untitled)

[onesoulintwo]

Day: 62
Characters: China (cunchu), Hush (onesoulintwo).
Summary: China has an illustrious history. Hush wants to talk about it! In the most earnest, friendly way possible, of course.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: NIGHT, just before the evening lock-up.
Status: Closed/Incomplete

Comments

[cunchu]

He wouldn't fight. He didn't struggle, he didn't look at his roommate as the guards arrived, and he most certainly didn't look at the guards. There wouldn't have been point, and his pride would simply have to stay love for the moment; besides the obvious heat that had built up into a full-fledged fever (he knew what those were like, knew it wasn't right when everyone was complaining of the cold and he didn't feel right at all), he'd seen what had happened to the others who'd tried. He wasn't quite sure how they expected all of them to fit down the stairs, but apparently, they did- because next, he found himself standing in front of a far more kept-up room, and then entering the room to find it better than anything in the asylum combined.

But of course. The Doctor had choice.

China had little choice, as he stepped past the threshold and waited for the guards to leave, caught the tail-end of something with sheen (a comb? at least it wasn't a syringe--) and eyed this 'doctor' all at once. There didn't seem to be anything too out of

[onesoulintwo]

"Mr. Wong -- there you are

[cunchu]

"I won't." He didn't inform the other of that rather pointless fact for anything other than a gnawing sense of pride, though he did - grudgingly - take a few more steps into the room, stopping just shy of that wooden chair and giving it an unapproving once-over before focusing right back on the 'Doctor.'

There was no comfort in any of this, done-up space or not, with him gritting his teeth to stop from protesting that name, folding his arms so his hands disappeared under sleeves. He'd heard the stories of how the doctors did things these days, witnessed it first hand with Cyril; the smiles and kindness and back-stabbing and so many receiving new drugs. Well. That was one thing he could keep in mind to stop from gritting his teeth, try to look at least somewhat unruffled and not as offended as he felt, and he was prepared to hear near anything, eyes narrowed, flicking from Hush's face to that folder, attentive, distrusting--

Flabbergasted.

"Short summary? There is nothing short about it."

Of course there would have, if he'd been '

[onesoulintwo]

"I'm sure rice-farming is a fine living."

Elliot almost seemed to laugh, though no such sound really escaped him. He just smiled wider, shifted his chair forward, paged forward in China's file a few sheets, and looked absolutely energetic and amused. It was a look he'd worn many, many years before, starting off chess games in the bedroom of a much younger Bruce Wayne. It was a look that'd he'd never quite grown out of. It still fit.

"But you know as well as I do that your average rice farmer doesn't end up in a Swiss mental institution. We're lucky to be able to take cases from patients of many different nationalities, but...that just doesn't happen."

He shook his head, as if for effect, and went on:

"Maybe 'summary' is the wrong way to go at it. Why don't we just start at the end. Tell me about the last place you can remember living before you were committed here - how old you were, what you did for a living, what your neighbors were like, that sort of thing. Just free-form; go on for as long as you like."

[cunchu]

"I cannot believe I am anywhere near Switzerland as well, aru, let along on it."

And that was the truth. Everything he said was going to be the truth, he wanted to make sure of it-- it never did to tell lies, only ended in broken honor or pride. As a Nation, he realized that. As the person the doctor was calling him, he would grudgingly acknowledge it.

Hesitating over it all was as pointless as doing that.

So he gave a dictation, watching the (American) Doctor from the corner of his eyes. "Beijing. The ones I was working with were the same as any who worked to make things better. Good people. If times were not bad, they would have shared more than they could." Small, small pause. Ah, there it would be. What he saw the Doctor latching onto. "We worked for Chairman Mao, of course. Communal farms-- you have heard of those, haven't you?"

Another moment of silence. "And that is all you need to know."