"Stupid. Stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid." David's mind kept repeating, he looked around the room and worked hard to match others expressions as they looked on at the aftermath of his interference.
"You didn't know she could do that. Relax.""No. You didn't know what she could do. What could happen. And you stuck your nose in anyway. Stupid.""But nobody saw..."He snuck a quick peek at Sasha, who was checking out the wreckage that was Billy Isaacs.
"That's not exactly true though, is it..?"She turned her head towards him, as if sensing he was thinking about her, and he quickly looked away before their eyes could meet.
"Yeah, but she thinks you blew him up. What was it she said..? 'Do svidaniya, Davinski, So much for not beink human bomb...' So she doesn't know everything."He looked at the two people being restrained under heavy guard.
"...just that you did something."They began to be led in single file out of the room, he pulled his eyes away from the two and looked back ahead towards the blonde Russian girl.
"But that's alright. You heard her. She's not going to say anything. She was sitting facing the other direction. Plausible deniability."She looked back at him in line, he wasn't prepared for it this time and the pair held eye contact.
"I mean, what's she going to do. She's Russian. What, she's going to trade on the information or something? What kind of stupid, prejudiced idea do you have of her? She's just a simple Russian girl..."He curled his top lip back to return a sheepish smile, hopefully delivering some kind of sense of reassurance. But not feeling confident in it in the least.
"...with an unknown number of 'friends' she very deliberately was evasive about, who seems to have some kind of undefined familial or military ties, who has been in our country for less than a week and is very cagey with details..."They both looked down at their feet, self-conscious of their held eye contact.
"You're a god damned idiot. Stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid."Sasha was led out the room as she was ahead of him in the line, so he dared raise his line of sight once more.
"Hey, hey, hey! Stop that shit. Stoicism. What is it stoicism teaches us? Plan, think and control what you can, and stop sweating what you can't affect or change."As David was also led out of the room and Sasha was back in line of sight, he distracted himself by looking at the rooms and locations he passed on the way from the Recreation Wing back to the Residential Wing. Committing the different locales to memory.
It was good. It would be important for later. Knowing where everything is. When called on to go somewhere at set times. Keeping things moving. Orderly. Not ruffle feathers, not make waves.
The group were led into another wing and down a corridor with dormitory doors on either side. The rooms' doors remained closed whilst attendees were manouevered and paired before different doors. A guard grabbed David by the upper arm and physically moved him to just in front of a specific closed door. No pair, no partner. This would be his home for the duration.
"This is good. This is very good. Plenty of time to 'think, plan, and control what I can'. Plenty of solitary time to figure out where to go from this god awful mistake, free of threats and distractions. Just you, your thoughts, and..."He turned the knob and as the door swung open, he saw the boy Director Virgil Rowell had referred to as Frederick Jackson sitting on one of the two beds.
"Well, fuck..."
Fritz had been handed a soft rubber ball as he'd been delivered to his dorm, and after he'd noted the presence of
two beds, indicating an inevitable roommate, he'd chosen one bunk through the use of no formal process whatsoever, and proceeded to spend all of 10 minutes, maybe less, bouncing said ball off of walls, floors, ceilings, windows, over and over and over until the sound of the soft thump against surface became more unbearable than the boredom of waiting. The cliche of it felt comical almost at Fritz' expense, and he couldn't be sure it wasn't intentionally mocking; either way, he was done with it. The ball dropped from his hands and rolled away into a corner to be forgotten.
The time passed slowly; Fritz considered turning in for the night just to skip ahead, but his mind steadfastly refused to succumb to slumber, racing with the day's events and implications of his current circumstances. He knew Ju-V was a last-chance when he'd accepted the offer, but now it truly sunk in; this was it. He didn't even have the refuge of self-exile - if it wasn't here, it was jail, and there were no two ways about it; Fritz was sure Jones' heavy paw upon his shoulder would guide him all the way to the gallows pole if it had to.
So Fritz just sat around, inspecting the surprisingly well-equipped room that had, he deduced, been notably pre-inspected; there was nary a point nor edge to be found, even the furniture corners rounded off. There was nothing to do but wait, so wait he did.
Only to be thoroughly disappointed that someone so dutifully
un-entertaining eventually walked through the door, a feeling which appeared to be returned in kind. The young man's face said it all - shock, repulsion, a general dejection at forfeiting the dorm-room lottery. The charming affectation of the skunk-stripe through his hair did little to endear him to Fritz.
"Same to you, buddy." Fritz decided to open with, crossing his arms and putting on a well-practiced, unwelcoming frown.
"It's not--."He sighed and brought himself to make direct eye contact with his new roommate.
"Don't take it personal. It's not because of you in particular. Five seconds ago, on the other side of that door I thought I'd scored myself a solo room."Fritz sucked his teeth, changing tact and turning smarmy instead of hostile. If he was going to be lumped with a boring roommate, he'd have to make his own fun.
"I've heard worse than jerking off while trying to sleep, so knock yourself out." He rolled over, facing the wall, arms still crossed.
"Place isn't exactly the Marriott, if you hadn't noticed already."David looked around the room.
That didn't seem right to him. The room seemed to be furnished with more than he figured you'd find in this type of rehabilitation facility - in particular, a really nice TV - but he had no real first hand knowledge of any. He opened his mouth to say as much, before realising that his new roommate might actually be speaking from experience.
So instead he closed his mouth and picked up the plastic bag of his clothes, testing it for its weight.
At least that was something to be said. He was able to wear his own clothes in this place - albeit a much cut-down version of his wardrobe.
Fritz, meanwhile, made an outward show of ignoring David, but with a practiced subtlety and a habitual hyper-awareness instead watched him secretly over his shoulder, ducking back when he risked being caught. Loathe though he was to admit it, the sleep he'd been getting after the first few days in pokey - once he'd gotten used to solitary - had been some of the best of the last few years, the guarantee of overnight safety a basic luxury he'd long forgotten. Fritz was not looking forward to returning to half-slept nights, light enough to wake at a moment's notice. His palms were already clammy at the thought of sleeping without a weapon.
The plastic bag derailed his train of thought completely, and Fritz watched with an air of light awe as David turned the bag upside-down and a pile of clothes cascaded from the opening onto his bunk. It was all sturdy, well-constructed, in good repair, and even Fritz could tell it was a tasteful collection. Raw envy flooded up from Fritz' stomach at a pace and ferocity that surprised even him, and he swallowed hard to subdue it. He sat up, swinging his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed and watch David in earnest, subtly kicking his own, significantly
smaller bag of possessions further underneath the bunk and hopefully out-of-sight.
They maintained a polite-but-awkward silence for a few moments as David rustled around and Fritz watched, before an instinctual voice in Fritz decided it was in his best interest to learn what he can about his new bunk-mate, and a quieter, less-familiar voice decided it would be nice to just try
talking to someone again.
"So what's your story, skunk-stripe? You apply, or was it a 'pragmatic suggestion'?"The meaty slap of his brother's body hitting the cement in their basement rushed back into his mind, before he answered the question.
"It certainly wasn't my idea, no." He replied quietly.
He didn't bother to parrot the same question back, and instead went in a different direction he'd be more willing to answer if his roomate chose his next question on 'the path of least resistance'.
"So where exactly are you from?"Even if Fritz
couldn't see the tension rippling through David's muscles as he answered, the smell of it was unmistakable. Kid had some no-go topics, it would seem, a theory quickly backed up by his hasty re-direction of conversation. Fritz sucked his teeth and decided to let sleeping dogs lie for now. If his new roomie acted up, or gave an attitude, or gave Fritz any other kind of reason, he'd pry further, regardless of how uncomfortable he might feel in sharing. But, for now, sail smooth waters.
"Buncha places. Nowhere in particular. Bounced around fosters for a while, then scrapped the system entirely. I guess if I have to give an address...San Fran courthouse is where you can post me fan-mail."Fritz took another nosy at David's pile of clothes.
"Doesn't look like you packed to travel, either. Got, what, a couple hours to throw your must-have digs in a suitcase and get on-board?It seemed they'd had two very different trajectories.
After the tragic day, it'd been quite a few months before he had received the Aegis form letter, requesting his presence. With a date set for weeks following that. With his own particular story, they hadn't had the same eagerness to get him in an enclosed box quite so quickly as his foster-formed roomie.
He suspected he'd come from somewhere more distant than California state from his speech and mannerisms, but he guessed if he'd had his own touchy topics, he was more than entitled to his own prickly points as well as for his origins.
"Had a little time. But figured we get laundry here... didn't want to pack anything I couldn't lose in a pinch. Their 'offer' didn't smell like much of a holiday."He reached over to the other bunk where Fritz lay, with a hand out-stretched.
"Jackson, right? That's what the guy said your name is. Mine's David. Other than the girl you tried to pluck herself, I don't know that I'd worry too much about what the rest're thinking about you. You missed some fireworks, I think they might have something else they're talking about now."Fritz almost flinched as David approached and reached an arm out - it took him longer seconds than he'd like to admit to realise it was a friendly gesture, a hand proffered for shaking. The kind of interaction he'd long retired.
Gingerly, Fritz reached out and grasped David's hand in his own, his firm grip surprising himself.
"Fritz." He said, as firmly as he could. He'd had enough of correcting people already, and he was only two introductions deep.
"And I'm not particularly worried about what anyone thinks of me. Head down and get out the other side. I don't have the luxury of a safety net if this gets all fucked up."David noted his roommate's demeanour. Squirrely. Snark to warn of the potential to strike, but eager to stay clear, keep to the shadows. Not be noticed. Defensively aggressive. He could relate to the desire to not be seen from his own high school experiences, but he suspected that was probably about where the similarities would end.
"Probably about the best possible attitude to have for a place like this." So what the fuck was that before? was the unspoken thought.
"A few of the others'd probably be better served thinking that way too."He went back to putting his clothes in drawers. Opening the top drawer he found the tv remote. Turned it on, and tossed it on Fritz' bed.
"Put something on. Background noise." He picked a set of headphones out of the drawer as well, holding them up for inspection.
"You get some of these as well?"Fritz hadn't actually taken the time to rummage; he'd assumed minimal was provided, and was well-accustomed to keeping himself entertained within his own mind, without the need for external distractions. TV hadn't been common even before he began living on the streets, and though he'd noticed the device when he'd arrived at the room, he'd paid it little mind. He picked up the remote like it was an alien device or a particularly sensitive pipe-bomb.
Ignoring whatever the telly was blaring, he opened his own drawer, finding his own pair of headphones within. He lifted them from the drawer and inspected them himself, subtly mimicking David's movements. He wasn't sure what David was looking for, and less sure what he himself expected. Turning back to the remote he stabbed three random numbers on the numberpad and let the TV switch over; with no knowledge of channels, he didn't really know what was 'good' or 'bad'. Much to his chagrin, that quiet voice in the background prompted him to socialise again, and against his better judgement, he obliged, stretching his arm out with the remote in-hand as he watched David plug his headphones in, noting what to emulate in a moment to setup his own.
"You pick your favourite." He said, attempting what he hoped was a friendly tone and smile to match.
"I don't have much in the way of taste.""Favourite, nothing." David replied casually.
"Just want background noise to blot out the silences... And the not-silences. This place is probably going to take some getting used to.""If I accidentally stumble upon 'Oz' right now, I'm going to hang myself from the lights with my own socks." David's sarcastic mind responded to the current level of social awkwardness.
He took the remote and threw the channel to some cartoons. Familiar background for David from years past, less so for Fritz.
He finished putting his possessions away in the drawers and sat on the bed. He checked the time, it still seemed pretty early. He ate heavy at home for lunch, making the most of his remaining freedom and not knowing what the food would be like here toninght. He suspected the same couldn't be said for his roommate. Hell, he didn't look like he'd had a good meal in a while. Considering Fritz he guessed whatever it was they were planning on feeding them, they'd only be given a spoon.
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