[It's not that Wendy doesn't believe him, it's more like she's seen this symptoms countless times before in test subjects and sacrifices alike. So she's viewing all this with a heaping scoop of skepticism. She's a scientist. It's what she does.]
Can't say you don't know. I won't be able to give you anything if you don't give me an idea of what could be in your system right now. [A slight chuckle, maybe a bit nervous-sounding?] You really don't want me going with a random guess.
[She shakes her head.] I don't think you're crazy. I think this is just a response to something I haven't identified yet. [A pause.] Do you wanna walk? We can walk. [And she gestures towards back from where she came, her other hand gently touching his arm.]
[ Alan scratches the side of his face, biting his tongue between his teeth with his eyes unfocused while he tries to think of an answer for her. What did he have? His list is slowly stated with a reluctant hint to actually giving it. Listing it all out? This sounds fucking awful. It's probably not in order. He's struggling to remember it clearly. ] The last 24 hours I had uh... Alcohol. A sleeping pill. Three shots. More pills. Couldn't sleep still then had a cup of coffee. A doughnut. A piece of paper. An espresso. A juice box. Cup of coffee. Cold pizza. An eraser. Cup of coffee. A ham sandwich. Three crackers. A cigarette. A cookie. Cup of coffee. Cup of coffee. I ate all the cherries out of a jar at one point, I think. [ He doesn't look back at her. He waves the hand that was on his chin in a circle. ] Then it's all black.
[ He looks back at her, raising an eyebrow. ] You don't? [ Complete surprise. He scans her face for a lie in it and doesn't find one then relaxes his shoulders. A wave of calm. Considerable calm. ] Yeah. Lead the way. [ Alan leans into it, without leaning into her at all. He can keep walking straight, a testament to the calmness. ]
[With the lapses in memory he's exhibiting, Wendy doesn't expect Alan to rattle off... such... a list. From the sounds of it? He's had an incredibly normal twenty-four hours as far as consumption is concerned. If you don't count the eraser? He ate an eraser? She squints when he casually mentions it, but quickly moves past it.]
I don't. [She shakes her head.] I'm just gonna skim over the apparent eraser you ate today too. Pretend like you didn't tell me that. [She laughs a bit, the sound so light. Genuine.]
If it's just caffeine and cigarettes with a little bit of booze - you should be fine. [He's speaking to the Alcohol Champion of the World here.] Maybe you have an adverse reaction to certain stimulants? [A sudden thought hits her:] Oh, are you taking any medication?
[ He holds his hand up, a protesting gesture. ] Not, like, a whole one. It was at the end of a pencil. It was an accident! [ He averts his eyes, raising his shoulders in a shrug of embarrassment and mutters 'ok' about pretending he didn't mention it. There's a smile that goes with it, amused and feeling better.
At least he doesn't reek like cigarettes and booze. Coffee? Yes. And blood. Wait, what? ] I've never had those before, I don't think. [ Maybe his tolerance went out the window. The back of his head gets rubbed. ] Besides those sleeping pills I attempted that didn't do shit? No. No, I've never been prescribed anything. [ Should he be? Probably. ]
Right. Super important detail. Not a whole eraser... [Wendy's utterly amused, doing what she can to stifle her laughter. At least he's smiling too. That's a great development.
They're going to take the elevator back up to her neck of the woods. He shouldn't be climbing stairs in this state. She nudges Alan's arm to steer him away from the nearest stairway and put him in the direction of the elevator close by. She hits the call button for them, tapping her foot as they wait.]
What sort of sleeping pills? Melatonin, something harder? I'm taking notes - promise. Mental ones. [Her head tilts a bit, fingers ending up in her ponytail.]
It is important! [ It’s hard to say how much of that is still riding the wave of anxiety that it’s vital she knows he’s not someone that just bites into things. Or if it’s him playing along to try to make her just laugh, based on the stupid smile that follows the statement.
He follows her nudge, looking over his shoulders as he goes, half expecting something to follow. He waits then, rubbing his head. ]
Mental ones. Okay. [ He pushes hair behind his ear then drops his hand. ] Just over the counter basic melatonin. I don’t have anything stronger than that. I hate going to the doctor, no offense to your many degrees.
Melatonin isn't worth a damn in my personal experience. [A shrug.] Sometimes it works, most times it doesn't. You can build up a tolerance in no time. Good to know you aren't on the harder stuff. Imagine what zolpidem would do? [She smiles one of her know-it-all smiles.]
I'm not a medical doctor, so none taken. [He gets a gentle jab of an elbow into his side.
The elevator dings and the doors open in front of them. She makes a sweeping gesture with her arm, telling him to go ahead without words.]
Most times it doesn’t? That’s not what the nice fish salesman said to me. [ He rubs at the back of his neck more, the shoulder. Makes a face but seems to nod in agreement. ] You could make up a pill right now and I’d be agreeing because I don’t know.
[ The jab gets sort of full body flinch out of him. But he sticks close to her after even so. The elevator is stepped inside. His hand goes out to touch a button but retracts, forgetting which way to go. ]
[Okay - that makes her laugh. Wendy covers her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle the noise some. Alan has jokes - even in this state of mind - and that's good!]
I'll keep the shop talk to the bare minimum then. But yeah - melatonin isn't the cure-all everyone says it is. That's all you need to know about that.
[She goes for the buttons on the control panel once they're both inside the car, hesitating once she sees Alan reach out ahead of her. But then he hesitates and she shoos his hand away so she can hit the floor they need. It's fine, don't worry about it.
Who knew an underground complex could have so many sub levels? It seems to go on forever. "Upstairs" is only three floors, an innocuous-looking office building. The rest seems endless.]
[ Her laugh is helping stifle the panic even though she's trying to stifle the laugh. He's scratching the palm of one hand with the nails of the other, shifting his feet. A nod, trying to put on a serious face. Commit it to memory. Forgive him if he forgets this one later. ]
Got it. Melatonin sucks.
[ Alan ends up leaning on one of the walls of the elevator. Turning so his back is on the side wall and he's still facing her. His eyes big. His brows together. A frown on his face. It's pretty pathetic looking. ]
Ritual going to be on schedule? [ He has to fill the silence. He HAS to. His own thoughts are driving him nuts and his head hurts so bad. The elevator is so bright. Turn it down. ]
Mmhm. [A nod of agreement, her ponytail bouncing some. She keeps an eye on him while she stands in front of the door, occasionally glancing his way to ensure he doesn't topple over.]
Should be. [A long, yet soft exhale.] Fingers crossed. [Everyone gets wound up so tight when the deadline looms closer. But not her. At least - she tries not to show it on the outside.
The elevator dings, but the car doesn't stop. It just continues on its way to the floor she picked.]
[ No risk of toppling over. He's got his feet planted and is leaning on the wall, which should theoretically prevent such a thing. His eyes follow the ponytail. ]
How much longer?
[ His job is usually done by the time the deadline rolls around. The storyline is all written out and the Harbinger has the script he wrote for the location (and then adds improv. The lunatic.) The monsters get picked during and he makes their things post-ritual. The downtime for everyone else. Another job is occasionally writing scenarios for force people into certain roles and then handing it off to whatever department can make it work. Sometimes they skip him entirely when they're overly confident in their victim choices, even if Alan personally thinks it could use some work. They just don't want to pay him the overtime, he thinks. Bastards.
There's two more jobs. The emergency clean up one - writing cover-ups, etc. (Rarely implemented). And the last is Alan's job. (He can't remember how this one goes.)
His head tips up to look at the numbers as they tick up. ]
[Wendy sighs, her gaze shifting up towards the ceiling as she figures the time.] Four weeks, two days, and... [She looks down, squinting at the face of her watch in the low light as she holds her wrist up.] Eh, a few hours I guess. [She shrugs. Usually she's more detail-oriented than this, but it's been a long day.]
How could they forget? [She frowns, turning to face him.] That's messed up. We can't get shit done without you. Your texts are kinda important.
"A few"? Could you be more precise with that? [ A slight smile as he says it. Joking tone. She always knows her stuff. Four weeks. Further than he thought but it also sounds like no time at all. He might have some work to do still.
He frowns back at her, shrugging both shoulders. ] In their defense, I also forget to ask. [ That doesn't make it better. ] People are dicks caught up in their own shit. I'm one guy. Everyone probably figures someone else is telling me that nobody ends up doing it.
I could do that... [There's a head tilt, her watch arm flopping down to her side before her hand disappears into the pocket of her lab coat.] But I've been here at least thirteen hours straight and can't really be bothered right now.
[Thirteen hours straight and this is the first decent break she's given herself besides taking a few quick bites of a sandwich at some point during the afternoon.]
You're not just one guy. You're the most important guy. The disrespect is appalling.
Thirteen. Too many. [ She's technically still working with him. He wouldn't count escorting his anxiety-ridden (schizophrenic?) butt around as a break. Alan scratches the side of his nose with a finger then tilts his head at her. ] I'm authorized to sign off on overtime slips as head of a department. Just so you know.
[ He's watching her with concern now for her well-being. His own in the background. Did she eat? When the hell does she sleep? What chemicals need thirteen hours? Maybe if he plays into not feeling well longer she'll sit down. ]
The most important guy. Hadn't heard that one before in here.
OT is OT. They keep trying to enforce some sort of cap but I'm exempt for obvious reasons. [You know. The "she's the only one who can make sure Chem doesn't ruin everything" reasons.]
What would that do for me? The overtime slips? I usually sign my own. [She's not the head of her department. Probably never will be. But she does good enough work to get away with nearly whatever she wants. A silent understanding around the complex.]
Well you are. If you look at the grand scheme of things.
Obvious reasons like the one time where you actually went to sleep, the virgin got dosed instead and died twelve minutes in? [ Obvious reasons. He smiles sadly. That poor girl. He always routes for them to make it.
Alan looks up thoughtfully, trying to figure out what exactly that would do for her. Of course she signs her own. The offer is relatively useless then. He pauses and tries to think of something that makes any sort of a difference. He shakes his head lightly and shrugs, exaggerated. ] They'd put it in faster? [ Maybe. ]
I'm- [ "not too sure about that." He lets it fall short of saying. Just take the compliment. Don't argue with her. ] Thank you. It's nice to be appreciated.
[Wendy visibly bristles at that. Eyes widening, staring straight ahead and not daring to take her attention off of the doors in front of her.
This is such a long elevator ride isn't it?
How did he-- No, wait. Of course he knows about that incident. She nearly forgot about it herself (with good reason) and now it's been brought back to the surface and she absolutely hates it.]
Sometimes the approval process does take a little longer than I'd like... [Yep, just gonna shift the topic back to the OT, thanks.
The elevator finally comes to a stop and dings. There's a moment before the doors open, and she feels like she can exhale the breath she's been holding. At last.
I didn't mean- [ He shouldn't have brought that up. It was a glitch. She would've caught it. He can see it. It's a compliment but also bringing up something awful. His mouth draws into a thin line. He looks around and never finds a correction to this. This is why people think he's a dick.
She's moving on. He should too. He looks at the floor with a wide-eyed stare. ]
See. Yeah. Maybe I can speed it up. [ Maybe???? The elevator dings and it takes him just then to realize how heavily he was leaning on the wall there. He pushes himself off then follows her, deer in headlights looking around the hall they exit into. He knows he's been on this floor, been in this hall, and yet he can't remember when.
He follows one step behind her, trying to keep next to her but letting her lead. ]
Yeah. But not too much. I don't like the attention. [ A vague gesture around. ] Should I be wearing PPE to follow you into a lab?
[Nope. Not acknowledging it. She's made her peace or whatever, dealt with the repercussions. What's done is done and in the past and she would very much not like to think about it anymore thank you.]
I'll keep that in mind. [Please get her OT approved. Maybe that will put you back in her good graces, Wake.]
Oh, me neither. [What a lie. She thrives on attention, being told she's done a good job. It's the negative attention she isn't a fan of - and she still seems to get plenty of that too.
Her keycard is slipped from the breast pocket of her lab coat and she's unlocking the door for the both of them.]
No you're fine. [Wendy shakes her head, holding the door open for him to follow. Card slips back into her pocket once they're inside.] Don't worry about it. Just wash your hands in that sink over there for me? Make sure you disinfect.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Can't say you don't know. I won't be able to give you anything if you don't give me an idea of what could be in your system right now. [A slight chuckle, maybe a bit nervous-sounding?] You really don't want me going with a random guess.
[She shakes her head.] I don't think you're crazy. I think this is just a response to something I haven't identified yet. [A pause.] Do you wanna walk? We can walk. [And she gestures towards back from where she came, her other hand gently touching his arm.]
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[ He looks back at her, raising an eyebrow. ] You don't? [ Complete surprise. He scans her face for a lie in it and doesn't find one then relaxes his shoulders. A wave of calm. Considerable calm. ] Yeah. Lead the way. [ Alan leans into it, without leaning into her at all. He can keep walking straight, a testament to the calmness. ]
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I don't. [She shakes her head.] I'm just gonna skim over the apparent eraser you ate today too. Pretend like you didn't tell me that. [She laughs a bit, the sound so light. Genuine.]
If it's just caffeine and cigarettes with a little bit of booze - you should be fine. [He's speaking to the Alcohol Champion of the World here.] Maybe you have an adverse reaction to certain stimulants? [A sudden thought hits her:] Oh, are you taking any medication?
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At least he doesn't reek like cigarettes and booze. Coffee? Yes. And blood. Wait, what? ] I've never had those before, I don't think. [ Maybe his tolerance went out the window. The back of his head gets rubbed. ] Besides those sleeping pills I attempted that didn't do shit? No. No, I've never been prescribed anything. [ Should he be? Probably. ]
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They're going to take the elevator back up to her neck of the woods. He shouldn't be climbing stairs in this state. She nudges Alan's arm to steer him away from the nearest stairway and put him in the direction of the elevator close by. She hits the call button for them, tapping her foot as they wait.]
What sort of sleeping pills? Melatonin, something harder? I'm taking notes - promise. Mental ones. [Her head tilts a bit, fingers ending up in her ponytail.]
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He follows her nudge, looking over his shoulders as he goes, half expecting something to follow. He waits then, rubbing his head. ]
Mental ones. Okay. [ He pushes hair behind his ear then drops his hand. ] Just over the counter basic melatonin. I don’t have anything stronger than that. I hate going to the doctor, no offense to your many degrees.
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I'm not a medical doctor, so none taken. [He gets a gentle jab of an elbow into his side.
The elevator dings and the doors open in front of them. She makes a sweeping gesture with her arm, telling him to go ahead without words.]
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[ The jab gets sort of full body flinch out of him. But he sticks close to her after even so. The elevator is stepped inside. His hand goes out to touch a button but retracts, forgetting which way to go. ]
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I'll keep the shop talk to the bare minimum then. But yeah - melatonin isn't the cure-all everyone says it is. That's all you need to know about that.
[She goes for the buttons on the control panel once they're both inside the car, hesitating once she sees Alan reach out ahead of her. But then he hesitates and she shoos his hand away so she can hit the floor they need. It's fine, don't worry about it.
Who knew an underground complex could have so many sub levels? It seems to go on forever. "Upstairs" is only three floors, an innocuous-looking office building. The rest seems endless.]
no subject
Got it. Melatonin sucks.
[ Alan ends up leaning on one of the walls of the elevator. Turning so his back is on the side wall and he's still facing her. His eyes big. His brows together. A frown on his face. It's pretty pathetic looking. ]
Ritual going to be on schedule? [ He has to fill the silence. He HAS to. His own thoughts are driving him nuts and his head hurts so bad. The elevator is so bright. Turn it down. ]
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Should be. [A long, yet soft exhale.] Fingers crossed. [Everyone gets wound up so tight when the deadline looms closer. But not her. At least - she tries not to show it on the outside.
The elevator dings, but the car doesn't stop. It just continues on its way to the floor she picked.]
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How much longer?
[ His job is usually done by the time the deadline rolls around. The storyline is all written out and the Harbinger has the script he wrote for the location (and then adds improv. The lunatic.) The monsters get picked during and he makes their things post-ritual. The downtime for everyone else. Another job is occasionally writing scenarios for force people into certain roles and then handing it off to whatever department can make it work. Sometimes they skip him entirely when they're overly confident in their victim choices, even if Alan personally thinks it could use some work. They just don't want to pay him the overtime, he thinks. Bastards.
There's two more jobs. The emergency clean up one - writing cover-ups, etc. (Rarely implemented). And the last is
Alan's job. (He can't remember how this one goes.)His head tips up to look at the numbers as they tick up. ]
They always forget to tell me when it's starting.
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How could they forget? [She frowns, turning to face him.] That's messed up. We can't get shit done without you. Your texts are kinda important.
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He frowns back at her, shrugging both shoulders. ] In their defense, I also forget to ask. [ That doesn't make it better. ] People are dicks caught up in their own shit. I'm one guy. Everyone probably figures someone else is telling me that nobody ends up doing it.
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[Thirteen hours straight and this is the first decent break she's given herself besides taking a few quick bites of a sandwich at some point during the afternoon.]
You're not just one guy. You're the most important guy. The disrespect is appalling.
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[ He's watching her with concern now for her well-being. His own in the background. Did she eat? When the hell does she sleep? What chemicals need thirteen hours? Maybe if he plays into not feeling well longer she'll sit down. ]
The most important guy. Hadn't heard that one before in here.
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What would that do for me? The overtime slips? I usually sign my own. [She's not the head of her department. Probably never will be. But she does good enough work to get away with nearly whatever she wants. A silent understanding around the complex.]
Well you are. If you look at the grand scheme of things.
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Alan looks up thoughtfully, trying to figure out what exactly that would do for her. Of course she signs her own. The offer is relatively useless then. He pauses and tries to think of something that makes any sort of a difference. He shakes his head lightly and shrugs, exaggerated. ] They'd put it in faster? [ Maybe. ]
I'm- [ "not too sure about that." He lets it fall short of saying. Just take the compliment. Don't argue with her. ] Thank you. It's nice to be appreciated.
no subject
This is such a long elevator ride isn't it?
How did he-- No, wait. Of course he knows about that incident. She nearly forgot about it herself (with good reason) and now it's been brought back to the surface and she absolutely hates it.]
Sometimes the approval process does take a little longer than I'd like... [Yep, just gonna shift the topic back to the OT, thanks.
The elevator finally comes to a stop and dings. There's a moment before the doors open, and she feels like she can exhale the breath she's been holding. At last.
She nods her head for him to follow her.]
More people should appreciate everything you do.
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She's moving on. He should too. He looks at the floor with a wide-eyed stare. ]
See. Yeah. Maybe I can speed it up. [ Maybe???? The elevator dings and it takes him just then to realize how heavily he was leaning on the wall there. He pushes himself off then follows her, deer in headlights looking around the hall they exit into. He knows he's been on this floor, been in this hall, and yet he can't remember when.
He follows one step behind her, trying to keep next to her but letting her lead. ]
Yeah. But not too much. I don't like the attention. [ A vague gesture around. ] Should I be wearing PPE to follow you into a lab?
no subject
I'll keep that in mind. [Please get her OT approved. Maybe that will put you back in her good graces, Wake.]
Oh, me neither. [What a lie. She thrives on attention, being told she's done a good job. It's the negative attention she isn't a fan of - and she still seems to get plenty of that too.
Her keycard is slipped from the breast pocket of her lab coat and she's unlocking the door for the both of them.]
No you're fine. [Wendy shakes her head, holding the door open for him to follow. Card slips back into her pocket once they're inside.] Don't worry about it. Just wash your hands in that sink over there for me? Make sure you disinfect.