[ Lament's posture remains hunched as he walks, still nervous about tripping into more mistakes and being chastised again— and further weighed down by his awareness that he deserves the chastisement. But if he walks fast and finds the place. . . if he can pull this off, maybe he can prove there's something to him. That he really can get out of this. That he can slip out from under the vampire's control. Maybe both of them can? He doesn't. . . really know this guy yet, but . . . it'd be easier than going it alone.
but it's not like he has any right to ask for that.
not before he's at least proved he can do something right. He remembers the map he was shown of the area he's been stationed, and he's walked the area enough to get a feel for it. He navigates the streets, head down, to one of the strange unmanned buildings— an automated compounding chemist office, of sorts. A glass door that slides itself open, shelves stocked with small boxes behind more glass that open when the ill and authorised put their fingers to the right spot. Behind all of this, there is a place where more specific medicines are mixed on the spot, and where sometimes an analyst is stationed.
This time of night, there's no such person. He can hop the desk fairly easily to get at the equipment, but.
There's a problem. Another reader. Like everything in this vampire city, it wants a drop of blood and he's had it explained to him the problem with his— no nanites. Whatever those are? He doesn't have them. He won't be authorised. There is no legitimate way to get it to work.
Lament bites his lip for a long moment. ]
. . . I. Think? I know how to get it to work. But it's such a bad idea. Uhm. Do we . . . call it quits here?
Hey. It's not giving up. It just means we won't be done tonight. We can get the blood. All right? This is just part of it . . . we're checking the location.
[ He doesn't take that long to look, aware of that he's holding up their exit. Finding what he needs, he grabs them and stows the powdered compounds away— opting for these over the potential rattling of pills ]
[not that he seems happy about the idea. watching lament sidelong, uneasy, still considering the possibility of him bolting again even though it isn't happening]
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madenomistake) wrote2025-09-29 03:16 pm
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repeats, tersely:] Fine.
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[ ! ]
Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won't regret it, I'll get it right, I swear!
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Keep your voice down. Fuck. Get out of the trash.
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he's not going to say the right things. but maybe he can do the right actions. ]
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keeping pace with him. lowly,] I mean let's try not to be heard.
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No, you're right... it's better not to be heard. I messed up.
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but it's not like he has any right to ask for that.
not before he's at least proved he can do something right. He remembers the map he was shown of the area he's been stationed, and he's walked the area enough to get a feel for it. He navigates the streets, head down, to one of the strange unmanned buildings— an automated compounding chemist office, of sorts. A glass door that slides itself open, shelves stocked with small boxes behind more glass that open when the ill and authorised put their fingers to the right spot. Behind all of this, there is a place where more specific medicines are mixed on the spot, and where sometimes an analyst is stationed.
This time of night, there's no such person. He can hop the desk fairly easily to get at the equipment, but.
There's a problem. Another reader. Like everything in this vampire city, it wants a drop of blood and he's had it explained to him the problem with his— no nanites. Whatever those are? He doesn't have them. He won't be authorised. There is no legitimate way to get it to work.
Lament bites his lip for a long moment. ]
. . . I. Think? I know how to get it to work. But it's such a bad idea. Uhm. Do we . . . call it quits here?
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. . . How about we do this carefully instead? Do some planning?
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defeated: ]
Yeah. Okay.
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Hey. It's not giving up. It just means we won't be done tonight. We can get the blood. All right? This is just part of it . . . we're checking the location.
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Right. We checked.
[ he doesn't want to argue with the gentleness offered. and besides, his thought didn't pan out. even if it might, it hasn't yet. ]
. . . do we just go back, then?
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. . . Let's go back and think about how to get the blood.
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. . . Wait. ]
I'm grabbing sedatives, just... before we go. Since we're here.
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Right. Go on. I'll watch for anyone coming by.
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All done.
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Let's get out of here.
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[ this time he doesn't dawdle, sidetrack, or attempt to leave ]
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[not that he seems happy about the idea. watching lament sidelong, uneasy, still considering the possibility of him bolting again even though it isn't happening]
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[ he asks not as a question, but as a statement: things standing as they are, they really don't. ]
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I'm calling it now. This is going to spiral. But for now it's one night at a time.
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