(Untitled)

[worse_on_friday]

There was a very anxious pig on the steps of the compound. Hamlet snuffled and oinked, his front feet on one step. He stamped and butted the door with his broad, flat head

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[katurianx3]

No matter how many times Katurian washed the blue button-down shirt he'd arrived in, he couldn't manage to get all the blood stains out.

Michal had warned him, back in the prison cell, that they were hard to get out of clothes, but he hadn't guessed it would be this hard. The clothes box gave him no help either; everything he got was much, much too small, or something he'd never be caught dead in (for example, the black mesh tank top he'd found about a week after his arrival). And so he wore the same shirt, the blue beginning to fade with all the washes, when he stepped out of the Compound, intending to take a walk.

He wasn't expecting to stop dead in front of a large animal. An eyebrow raised, he glanced up at the man standing there. "Is, ah...that yours?"

[worse_on_friday]

Gus looked up, an expression of totally irritated disbelief on his face.

"Yes. He is. But he won't be for much longer if he doesn't start behaving."

[katurianx3]

"He do that?" Katurian asked, gesturing, in reference to the bruises and such on the man's face. "'Cause that might be a little more than not behaving." Bulldog had been his animal counterpart of choice for the policeman who'd beat him up, but if the pig was responsible for all, then maybe he'd best change his metaphor.

[worse_on_friday]

Gus raised an eyebrow.

"He's a pig," he said, in an incredulous tone of voice, like that explained everything. "Of course he didn't do this."

[chris_cutter]

Chris heard him before he saw him, that eerie familiar voice that, in his mind, belonged to Geoffrey more than it belonged to anyone else. Including himself.

His eyes widened as he approached the Compound and he felt caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to cringe.

"Jesus, man, what happened to your face?"

Well. At least he'd know what he'd look like should Mike ever really take a swing at him.

[worse_on_friday]

Gus, who was still engaged in something of a staring contest with his pig, looked up, somewhat startled.

"What? Oh." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Pool cue. It's broken."

[chris_cutter]

"Your face or the pool cue?" Chris ask as he approached, giving the pig a very quick, wary glance before turning his focus on Gus again. He squinted a little as he examined the bruises, still cringing some because hell, it was still his face as much as it was Gus's.

[worse_on_friday]

"My nose. I'm pretty sure the pool cue survived unscathed."

Used to this by now, Gus stood still under Chris' scrutiny.

"Quick pointer: Try not to get hit in the face with a pool cue. It hurts."

[reapyourshitup]

"You sure as hell are," I say, walking up from the path, a displeased look on my face. It's a fucking pig, after all. Those things are the opposite of clean. "You crazy or you just that fucking lonely?" I ask.

[worse_on_friday]

"Little of column A," snapped Gus, still obviously irritated. He turned his attenton back to Hamlet.

"And don't you think you're off the hook..."

His head was hurting again.

[reapyourshitup]

I walk closer, still giving the pig a wary eye, when I actually get a chance to look at the guy. "Jesus," I breathe. "What the fuck happened to your face? Someone come at you?" ... Or are you just that fucking dumb?

[worse_on_friday]

"With a pool cue," said Gus, by now well practiced at standing still under scrutiny. "Twice."

[mayko_tran]

"Hamlet," says Mayko sternly, beckoning him over. "Come here. Don't make me use the B word."

After addressing the pig in question directly, she looks up at Gus and grins. "Wow, you look like you lost a fight with a pool cue."

[worse_on_friday]

Gus glared at Mayko as Hamlet shuffled behind him and attempted to hide behind his legs, which he was really too big for.

"Great. Now he's got anxiety to go with his separation anxiety. Wonderful."

[mayko_tran]

"You're the only man I know who has a pig with issues," says Mayko. "You're the only man I know who has a pig for that matter. Hamlet, I can still see you, you know."

[worse_on_friday]

Hamlet butted Gus in the knees.

"Stop it. You're scaring him. Or intimidating him. Or something. And he's being difficult enough as he is."

[strandedseaman]

"Augustus?" Horatio asked doubtfully. The sight of the other man being butted by a pig was startling enough to drive him from his melancholy, it seemed. "What is he doing?"

[worse_on_friday]

"He's being ridiculous," said Gus, glaring at his pig. He was so annoyed that he didn't even wince at being called Augustus.

[strandedseaman]

Horatio could certainly see how that might be true. He was a pig, after all. "How are you feeling?"

[worse_on_friday]

"My head hurts all the time," said Gus, with a shrug. "And I look like I walked into the back end of a bus. But apart from that..."

Apparently bored with clinging to Gus already, Hamlet trundled over to examine Horatio's feet.