hadriel | Dictation - 4 [Text] (Forward Dated to the 7th)

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Dictation - 4 [Text] (Forward Dated to the 7th)

[When he had blinked back into life upon Hope's altar, Rosen had felt neither joy nor sadness at the fact. He had stared dumbly at the ceiling, noting with vague surprise and disappointment that death seems to do nothing for alleviating a person's mental and emotional exhaustion. They, or at least he, simply felt the same heaviness and dull discomfort that seems to come with owning mortal flesh. Mortal flesh that has aged and withered, had grown gaunt and grey.

There was no ceremony or eagerness to the way he pulled himself up, sat for another moment or so, and gathered himself onto his feet.

There was a slight haze. A disorientation that felt like heavy fingers gripping lazily at the back of his brain, just tightly enough to be a constant drain but not an actual impairment, and with the same slow, apathetic demeanor he had begun the trudge back to the spires, climbed the steps, opened the door, then tucked himself away inside his apartment, slumped into a chair at his kitchen table.

What now?

Should he call someone? Inform someone that he was back? In his tired fog he couldn't really see a point to telling anyone. What difference would it make? Was it even important? His empty apartment almost felt, in that moment, like evidence confirming that no, it was not.

At some point his fingers crept into his sweater pocket and fished out his phone, and at last he typed out a simple and emotionless text]

Has anyone seen my satchel?

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[Lance isn't expecting the question and blinks once in surprise, and then there's just something about the wording that makes him laugh a little. Sure, the subject's not funny, but it's almost like asking how a pet's been.]

Still present and accounted for, and so far not re-broken.

[Both positive things, right? But he's quiet a moment, idly reaching up to press his fingers against the side of his throat almost curiously, before giving a more serious answer.]

Since I've been being more careful, it's hurt less and my voice is more stable.

[Not totally back to normal, and he's definitely too timid to try shouting--let alone singing--yet, but significantly better than it was.]

[Rosen's brows draw upward in a 'really, Lance? 'present and accounted for' expression before his expression drops back to serious]

And eating and drinking? It isn't painful?

[He crosses his arms loosely and offers a small shrug, both at the look and at the question.]

Not as much.

[It's a dull annoyance now, as opposed to the more pronounced ache he'd been ignoring the first two months or so that he'd been here.]

I'm feeling a lot better overall.

[So there's no need for the worrying.]

Edited 2017-07-07 20:41 (UTC)

Ok.

[Rosen finally relents, though he'll file the information at the back of his mind earmarked to look into at a later date. A date when, ideally, he won't feel more akin to a zombie than a medical professional.

He then turns to push the door open to the spare room]

Deja vu.

[It's less deja vu for Lance, for a few reasons, but he gets why it would be for Rosen and nods at the comment.]

I'll be back as soon as I find anything worthwhile; anything in particular you want me to look for?

[Food-wise. Since Lance, of course, is not quite as picky as Rosen, so leaving it up to his judgement alone might not be for the best.]

[Rosen sets his bag on the bed, thinking over Lance's question as he undoes the drawstrings]

Whatever fruit and veg might look appealing, flour...

[Bit by bit he sets out some things on the bedspread]

...maybe some meat if it doesn't look too questionable.

[Lee straightens then]

I can go with you if you'd like

[The last statement is said out of a sense of guilt for having Lance go when he's already offering up his spare room]

[Lance makes mental note of all of that, and shakes his head.]

It's fine. Just kind of relax for awhile and I'll be back.

[Going out gives Lance both something to focus on and a bit of exercise, and Rosen seems like he could really use a little time to collect himself anyway.

And before he can argue, Lance heads out on his little mission. It takes about an hour and a half before he's managed to find and collect everything on the list, and then another short detour to get some coffee to bring back as well.

So he returns about two hours later, entering the apartment and setting everything on the counter in the kitchen before seeing if Rosen is up and around.]

[Rosen is sitting at the kitchen table, similar to the way he had been at his apartment, eyes gazing intently downwards. However, this time there is a slim stack of papers beneath his hands and he's actually sketching. They are a few technical drawings, one of the bones in the hand, and another of the muscles in the shoulder and upper arm, and he is now scratching out a detailed sketch of a skull, focused in this moment on the jaw. His drawings lack the emotion and creativity of Danielle's. Rosen is less an artist than he is a copyist when it comes to his drawings: technically skilled, mechanic, but only copies of things that already exist. Textbook. As most things are with him.

When Lance comes in the door, he lifts his head to greet him]

Welcome back.

[Better than Lance can do so he's impressed, and more than that it's good to see Rosen doing something like drawing. It's a creative outlet, and it's something other than staring at a wall.

He offers a smile at the greeting as he sets everything down, then picks up one of the coffees and sets it next to Rosen's stack of papers.]

Coffee is therapeutic. Professional opinion.

[Trust him, he's a doctor.]

[Rosen manages a small smile, setting down his pencil and reaching for the cup]

And what medical journal did you read this in?

[He lifts the cup near to his lips, blowing on it gently]

I didn't; I know it from real world experience.

[Lance is glad to see the smile, returning to the counter to take a drink of his own coffee before beginning to put stuff away.]

I'd say we should start some sort of medical or science journal here, just to give us something to do, but no one would read it.

[It'd be like maybe four people doing all the writing and reading.]

We could always pin it to the wall in the clinic.

[Lee doesn't entirely hate the idea, honestly. In fact the more he rolls it around in his mind the more it seems appealing. He is that type of person who misses the tedium of publishing regular medical papers and giving lectures as a visiting specialist.

It is an unavoidable fact that although he has become very invested in the clinic, he also feels a constant sense of being unsatisfied as there is really no opportunity to utilize his actual specialization here in the cave. Neuropsychology is not exactly a high priority in the Murdercave]

[That earns a small laugh, because he's drawing the mental parallel of hanging up artwork on a fridge.]

We could. Maybe then really bored people would read it.

[Not like there's a long wait time at the Clinic, though.]

It would give us something to read while we were waiting around in the clinic, assuming more than one of us bothered to write anything.

[Sitting around reading the paper you wrote yourself is not as appealing]

Also, it could be like an open forum. If its posted on the wall, its open to comment and critique. A small way of fighting off boredom.

[Yes. Rosen fully believes having one of his papers critiqued would be an excellent antidote for boredom]

I guess so.

[He's not against the idea, he's just not as optimistic it would work out. How many of them are actually qualified to critique each other's work anyway?

But, still--]

It wouldn't hurt; it's not like we have a whole lot else to be doing.

[Rosen makes a noise in his throat, a small distracted acknowledgement. At the moment following any whole though feels like reaching out into a fog, but he wants to revisit this subject again when he's more himself again. He feels like there could be a way for it to work. This might also be betrayed by the way he bites his lower lip in thought staring at the far wall for a long moment.

At long last he sighs. His brain is not putting in the work yet.]

I would say I miss home. That I miss my Alphas and my practice.. [Doing things. Being useful] But I know that as things stand, even if I did get sent home, it will only be to a prison cell. And its not exactly like I'm ever going to get a trial date.

[Lance is fortunately able to use trying to find a good place to put the package of flour as an excuse to keep his back to Rosen, because that comment hits close to home for him. He understands very well the feeling of missing the people you care about, and your job, and your life, but knowing you can't return to any of it.

It only takes a moment for him to be able to push those thoughts aside, though, and find something encouraging to say as he turns back around.]

You never know what might happen.

[And he doesn't mean that as a vague message of optimism, either.]

My friend, Booth, he was um... He was in prison for the last few months, at home, because he was framed for a crime as a part of a greater coverup going on. It seemed like a situation that there was no getting him out of, but we found a way.

[And the same sort of thing could happen for Rosen, too. Things are never entirely hopeless.]

[Lee turns his head to watch Lance's quest to house the flour and immediately regrets having said anything. Not because he doesn't appreciate Lance's encouragement, and not that he doesn't believe it is genuine, but because it only takes a moment's delay before it clicks.

Somehow with everything that had happened he had managed to forget that Lance wasn't going home. Or at least never in a way that will let him see his friends and family again.

Rosen's teeth dig harder into his lower lip, eyes dropping away back to the table surface.]

I'm glad you were able to help your friend [He finally says.]

[Lance notices that reaction, of course, and it doesn't take too much effort to figure out what prompted it; he wants to tell Rosen that it's fine, and Lance doesn't want him avoiding talking about certain things just because of him, but there's no way to directly address that at the moment that won't just make things worse, he thinks.

So instead he just forces his expression and tone to be more casual, ignoring the issue entirely and responding just to what Rosen said.]

Thank you. It was mostly Dr. Brennan, though.

[Or at least she was the one who did the intimidating and blackmailing portion, which honestly had only been fair.]

But it did take three months to get everything done, and that was with the whole team working on it. So even if it might be awhile, don't necessarily resign yourself to any particular fate.

[It takes a moment for Rosen to feel comfortable with speaking again, instead letting what Lance says settle in the air for consideration. When he speaks again his voice sounds uneasy.]

You have good friends.

[He's glad of that. Lance deserves good friends, Lance is one himself after all.]

There is no one trying to get me out.

[If any of that statement had been meant as self pity it doesn't show. It is stated simply as a fact. He's said it before: he doesn't have any friends.]

And the federal government has gotten to work deleting any and all traces of Dr. Lee Rosen.

[Though they weren't content to just erase him. They were concentrating their efforts on rewriting him: Dr Lee Rosen becomes Lee Rosen the basket case who is a danger to himself and society]

But I really shouldn't complain [He looks up again, putting on a weak smile] I made my choices.

[Lance waits until he's finished, trying to decide where the line falls between providing encouragement and just arguing, before deciding he's said what he should say already. He won't repeat it, and hopefully despite Rosen's response the potential of things improving is something that will stay with Rosen and perhaps he'll think about it later.

So he nods at the last comment, gaze far away for a moment before refocusing.]

Ultimately, that's the most important thing.

[Lance had made his own choices, too.

He takes a deep breath, straightening up a little, and picks up his coffee again before addressing Rosen once more, a little more upbeat.]

I still can't really cook, so you'll have to assist if you want any of this stuff made into something edible.

[Up, Rosen, let's get to the making food and stop focusing on depressing things that can't be changed.]

[Rosen nods in agreement. He had to agree. He had known when he made his choice to out the higher ranking officials in the DoD what his most likely fate would be, and he had acted even so. So whatever his feeling on his current situation, his prison cell, his destroyed reputation, he cannot pretend to himself he didn't act knowing this was down that road. However foresight doesn't necessarily make the consequences easier to swallow.

Lance's next comment wins an actual chuckle, though it is short lived. It is an oddly reassuring in a way: certain things haven't changed in the cave. ]

Fair enough.

[Setting a hand on the arm of the chair, Rosen pushes himself up, stretching a moment and cracking his neck with a pull of his head to the right, before stepping in Lance's direction. His expression then shifts slightly to something more pensive, eyes seemingly staring through Lance in thought. Lance was standing there just as tangible and alive as anyone else in this cave. Coffee in hand like any number of caffeine addicts in their mid-20s early 30s back home that Rosen shuffles past in New York on a day to day basis. But Lance wasn't one of them. Not simply because they might be from different versions of earth, but because there isn't a place for Lance alive any longer in any world outside of Hadriel. Wherever it was, he wouldn't be one of the young people back in their worlds rushing on their way to their futures.

Lee slows, bringing himself toe to toe with the young man and in a deft movement pulls him into a hug, holding him tightly for a brief moment, and hiding his face against Lance's shoulder.]

[Lance is pleased to see Rosen's chuckle and agreement, giving a small nod of both understanding and encouragement, and he's about to turn his focus to trying to figure out what could actually be made with the ingredients when Rosen steps toward him. His eyebrows furrow slightly, trying to figure out the meaning for the change of course and body language, when Rosen suddenly pulls him into a hug.

Lance freezes for a moment and goes tense, but resists the urge to pull back; he isn't completely startled, and the hug is unexpected but not unwelcome. He even manages to return it after a moment, although perhaps still a bit rigidly, but the intent is probably clear despite that.

He isn't totally sure what the hug is for, but considering Rosen just returned from the dead there's plenty of good reason.]

[The last person Rosen hugged was Frisk and that was after the city had been made whole again. Oddly enough the same day Lance had arrived. Prior to that the last hug Rosen could really remember was the one his Rachel gave him as he left his clinic for the last time, on his way to the DoD summit where everything fell apart.

Hugs in Rosen's life are things that never seem to come without somehow being connected to a tidal shift. Either they foretell the ground falling out beneath him or they are a desperately sought after boon in the sea after he's managed to once again survive a wreck. Though he almost never realizes he's seeking it in the first place.

After a moment he releases Lance, doing the awkward pat on the back that men seem to do when they are unused to showing such emotion, and wordlessly stepping into the kitchen to examine the groceries.

Its another long moment before he looks up]

Omelettes?

[Lance watches Rosen pass by into the kitchen, letting him looking through the groceries without interruption, and raises his eyebrows at the question.]

I will absolutely not refuse omelettes.

[In other words, please.]

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drabsolutelynot - 2017-07-17 23:13 (UTC) - Expand

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