[accidental visual | location: twelfth floor] trust our deepest secrets to the artificial lake

[honoraryhobo]

The sun's scrambled high into the sky like a sure-footed kid climbing a tree-it's the itch under his collar and the sweat on his palms. He raises the hoe and swings it down into dry earth, sending up a puff of dust. There's always one weed left. Sun's baleful glare on his back, he drives the blade in again. He hears himself grunt (it sounds more

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[ visual ]

[gotcouplings]

Kaylee is all but actually swearing at this point. Teenagers and adults are one thing, but bringing children to Taxon? What the di yu are those hamsters thinking up there? Granted, it's not the normal set-up in the Sanctuary, and it crosses her mind that it could be a glitch, but she doesn't recognize the name.

"Ai ya," she mumbles to herself, before she pulls the tablet closer, puts on her nicest smile, and switches her end of the feed on. "Hey, y'alright?"

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

His nervous fingers almost topple the bottle again when the floor starts talking. Dick sucks in a sharp breath; mouth hanging open he stares at the tile under his shoes. His gaze creeps timidly over the floor and comes to rest on...some kind of thing. Something smooth and bright and new.

Throwing an anxious look at the door, he stretches out on his belly, head propped up under a fist, to peer at what turns out to be a woman's smiling face.

[ visual ]

[gotcouplings]

Kaylee watches him carefully, smile never wavering. He isn't the first to not understand the technology. Hell, she doesn't understand some of it herself half the time, but she's almost positive that's partially because the hamsters haven't figured out what they're trying to do.

"S'alright, ain't gonna hurt ya. Name's Kaylee--mind if I ask yours?"

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

Dick looks on in fascination, frowning the perplexed, impatient frown of someone captivated by a magic trick and dying to find out how it works, help himself to the magician's secret knowledge. He watches her lips form the words while she speaks. He watches her hair-he can see it ripple as she moves her head.

Too late he remembers the question. "Dick Whitman. I didn't touch nothing," he protests without pausing for breath. "It--"

visual

[rose_tainted]

The hamsters are especially cruel if they are now bringing young children to here. This was no place for a child. Rose is concerned by this sight so she switches on her table to speak to him, checking to see if he was okay.

"Hello there. You okay?"

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

"Yes, ma'am," Dick says softly. He holds the tablet at arm's length and meets her eyes only briefly.

"I'm gonna make the bed," he adds, unable to think of another reason she'd be asking.

[visual]

[rose_tainted]

"Good." She smiles at him softly, trying to offer him some reassurance. Rose doesn't want to scare him.

"That's okay," Rose comments, still smiling. "Do you know where you are?"

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

He scratches at his ear and drops his gaze to the floor. "Did I die?" he whispers, faltering over the final word.

[ visual ]

[bonescientist]

Oh, dear. Brennan's not particularly practiced with children, but ignoring this seems like a callous, cruel thing to do.

She hems and haws for a good while as to what to say, before managing awkwardly, "Hello? Little boy?"

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

By now Dick's mastered the basics of tablet operation: keep it steady and point it at your face (and remember people can see and hear you). Still, he startles at the new voice.

"Hello," he ventures, at once solemn and uncertain.

[visual]

[bonescientist]

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Brennan smiles, hoping to appear reassuring. Now what? She's hitting a dead end already and desperately wishes someone from home were here to help her along - Angela, or maybe Booth who has a child of his own. He was the people person, not Brennan. Finally, she goes with what she knows the best; facts.

"I know you must be confused or frightened, but it's alright." Which might have been a lie, really. The boy should be at home with his family, not in Taxon. "What's your name? My name is Temperance, but if you want, you can call me Tempe for short."

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

He squints mistrustfully at the tablet, the friendliness overwhelming--light flooding a darkened room. No grown-up who wasn't trying to sell something has ever invited him to call them a nickname.

"Dick Whitman. Archie's my pa." It's a flat statement--no hope, no affection. He waits for the look people get when they recognize his father's name. He's trained himself not to flinch.

[visual] because I know you so wanted Long of my two chars

[imperial_long]

Oh dear. There is a child in Taxon. It hardly seems fair. Long tsks to himself before opening a reply; his habit is to stick to voice, but he supposes visual might be reassuring. Or perhaps not.

"Hello, young man. You appear to be new here. Has anyone else explained anything to you yet?"

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

A face the likes of which Dick's never seen confronts him: black skin, slanty eyes. His mouth falls open and the meager assortment of facts he's collected scatter like dandelion seeds carried away on a puff of breath.

The voice doesn't--can't--belong to the face. It's rich and English.

He pulls back from the tablet and, still gawking, wills himself to nod.

[visual]

[imperial_long]

The child half recoils from him-- or perhaps the tablet, Long supposes; that's the thought that is less injurious to Long's ego. But he takes in the boy's clothes, makes a guess as to era which is probably not entirely wrong.

Very unfair. The child will be surrounded by things unknowable and bizarre, like Miss Ross. (Long mentally ignores the fact that many things were unknowable and bizarre to him at first too.)

The child also has the air of a student awaiting a chiding from a master, which Long has some experience with.

"You're not in trouble," he says with a bare hint of a smile. "Not yet, at any rate. I am Mr. Long; I'm not going to hurt you, lad. Are you hungry?"

In Long's admittedly limited experience, all children respond to food.

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

Sometime during Mr. Long's introduction Dick recovers himself enough to shut his mouth. He can't help staring, though--the voice rumbles on, resonant and delicate all at once.

"I got no money," he mumbles, his own voice something small and stunted. He is hungry. He's always hungry, it's just a question of degree. He steals a glance at the bottle of whisky--maybe...

He lowers his eyes and shakes his head.

[ visual ]

[stepintoshadows]

Rorschach blinks once, then twice, then openly stares, forgetting to switch the transmission in his surprise at seeing the child. It seems out of place, the grime and grit as much of a reason in the stark room as the age, and lips twitch into a tense frown, brow furrowing to match his puzzlement. There have been no other children that he has seen so far, so it's understandably unexpected. It doesn't sit well with him, the boy left on his own, nor does the timid demeanor he has adopted in the clearly new environment. It hearkens to things he would prefer not to think about, has in fact put quite a bit of effort into not thinking about.

But even so. He dislikes it. Something should be done to rectify it, someone should be held accountable.

But he finds he doesn't have the words. He's never been much for conversation, and when he tries to put voice to thoughts they fail before they even get to his mouth. He doesn't know where to start. So instead he only watches, though with much less of his usual hostility.

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

Dick sits wedged in one of the room's far corners, knees drawn almost to his chest. He has the tablet in his hands--every so often his head snaps up his eyes dart to the door.

He's tired. His shoulders are stiff and his shoes pinch his feet. He found cigarettes and a wristwatch he didn't dare touch next to the bed. He stood at the window feeling by turns dizzy and scared and powerful.

He stares back. It's not a show of boldness--he's used to observing, to his gaze having no more force than a breath of wind.

[visual]

[stepintoshadows]

Hundreds of thoughts flicker through his mind as he scrambles for forgotten protocol for these kinds of situations, each one seized on but abandoned quickly until he finds one that's the least objectionable, voice hollow and hoarse when he finally forces the words out. He's long out of practice in actually helping people.

"You have a name?" It's the first thing to come to mind; assuring the boy that he's safe, which would be the first on the checklist, would be something of a lie considering the things he's seen since his arrival. And Rorschach has never seen the use in a lie, no matter how small or well-intentioned.

[visual]

[honoraryhobo]

He nods. “Dick.” His voice is soft, almost insubstantial. He rarely talks without feeling like a trespasser, like his forays into speech should be kept quick and stealthy.

“I'm new,” he says, echoing Mr. Long without understanding what he's new to.