Participants:
| Scene Title | Jagged Little Pill |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Elle drops into Claude's cell to make sure he takes his medicine. |
| Date | September 13, 2008 |
Primatech Research, Cell Block A
Should the time of day ever be a huge deal? To prisoners who are locked in here around the clock, maybe not. To Elle? Well. That's up to witnesses to decide. The blonde is wearing a yellow haltertop with a thick strap encircling her neck, black slacks, and tall platform sandals; balanced in one hand is a plastic cup. There's no smile at her mouth - instead, it's in her eyes and serenely lifted eyebrows. She looks as self-assured as anyone can be as she leans against Claude's cell door, working the lock unceremoniously open.
Claude really couldn't care less about the time. Or about anything else at the moment, since he's sound asleep on his bed. Mm, nap. Unfortunately his nap is about to end, because the fidgeting of the lock is enough to wake him from his slumber. Eyes opening, he immediately pushes himself up onto an elbow and eyes the door with a mix of curiosity and wariness. The latter of which seeps into his tone. "Who is it?"
As the door scrapes open along the floortiles, Claude can see just for himself who it is. A smirk touches Elle's lips as she lingers against it, absorbing the sight of the man still in his bed. Middle of the afternoon, or something like that. "The boogeyman, Claude. Wakey wakey."
Claude is old. Ish. Middle aged, and not like Adam. He's allowed to be in bed in the middle of the afternoon when it may well be the middle of the night. As such, he slumps right back down again when Elle comes into view. "Mmgh. The boogeyman's a more pleasant sight." His eyes, though fixing on Elle, slip half closed again.
It only takes a moment for Elle to retouch the lock behind her, slipping off with a flourish to stride for the cell's sink. "Oh, don't be such a grumpy old coot," she remarks carelessly as her fingers search for the tap, turning it. The purpose of her visit is immediately made apparent by this movement. "You love getting to see me. Don't deny it."
Claude remains largely motionless, sluggishly dragging a hand up to his face to rub at his eyes. "Like a root canal." He mumbles, eyes flitting to the sink momentarily and his eyebrows dip. Hngh. Bitterly, he continues, "Though I have to admit, the chair and I were running out of things to talk about."
For whatever reason, this makes Elle's grin grow broader. She finishes off the flow of water neatly, draining just a little of it back into the sink. Perhaps it's because she isn't expecting Claude to do anything irksome - he's just sitting there after all - that she straightens her arm out to him, pinky quirked at an odd angle. "That's why you have /me/. Hang on to this, will you?" The free hand pats around for a pocket.
Claude blinks, pushing himself back up again to sit up properly. Might as well try and stay awake now. Elle is watched closely, and the pinky is frowned at. "I think I'll just settle for a chat, today. Thanks."
Harumph. Elle ends up setting the wobbling cup on one edge of the sink, fishing out a small plastic pill dispenser with both hands. She looks at him strangely as she holds it pinched between thumb and forefinger, working it open. "I'll chat with you all you want in a minute. Hold out your hand."
Claude lets out an overly dramatic sigh, holding out his hand in a motion that's become all too familiar. Fine. "Always with the promises. You know, I used to do the promising over here. The Company wouldn't be where it is if it weren't for me." Which is something he regrets more than anything, but that goes unsaid
"That's better." The pills spring out onto Claude's palm. /Colorful./ The look turns into a mildly pleased one again. "If you hadn't worked against us like you did, Claude, you'd still be with us." Elle's voice is matter-of-fact, her eyes flickering up to gaze into his. "Simple as that. We're not feeling your loss."
Claude stares at the pills, fingers bending inward to roll them around idly. "I'm sure you're not." He breathes in a strangely indifferent tone. "There seems to be no shortage of people willing to ruin lives. People who'll look at the fear on their victim's faces and willingly smack them across the bloody room like they're a misbehaving dog. Couldn't do it, me." Looking up at Elle's face again, his lips twitch into an unpleasant little grin. "But you… you belong here. Lucky girl." How sincere.
“So you had to go and play hero-boy?” Elle continues to hold her stare, though it’s fairly relaxed. “You make it sound so easy. Didn’t have the stomach for it. No wonder you’re -here-.” The last word is emphasized by a one-shouldered shrug. Pajamas, cell, prison; her meaning couldn’t be any clearer.
"Takes more to run and change things than it does to stay in line, Elle. Not having to make your own decisions, doing as you're told." Claude's grin fades now, and he grits his teeth. He stares right back, in an ever valiant effort to try and get through to Elle. To get her to see the way thinks should be. "It was worth it ten times over."
But Elle already has a pretty good idea of how she thinks it should be, thanks. “I don’t think you ever knew /how/ to stay in line,” she states, unmoving. “Or what it meant. Thought you were being oh-so-brave by trying to help your poor, ickle Evolved? Should’ve known what you were /doing/.”
Claude sneers as both of his hands curl into fists. "I knew exactly what I was doing!" He stands, shoulders squared back and face twisted with contempt. "I was loyal to the Company for years, but I do NOT regret separating myself from lemmings like you!" The pills are sent flying through the room, and end up scattered in a corner.
Oho. So you’re going there, are you. Elle suddenly finds herself /loomed/ over by a man who’s over a foot taller than her; when it comes to it, even heels can only add so much. She steps back for space, leering as she cups her open palm towards her face. Little spots of blue begin to glow there. “Hopeless, Claude. You don’t even know what you’re doing /now/. If you know what’s good for you? You’ll pick up those pills.”
Claude very nearly takes a step toward Elle when she steps back, leaning forward ever so slightly in idle threat. This is before, however, there's that promise of getting a potentially very nasty shock. His breathing calms slowly, but his expression does little in ways of changing. This just isn't right. "You're lost, little lemming." He finally grunts, as he savours that last bit of looming. Then, reluctantly, he turns to do as he's told.
Elle breathes out audibly through her nose, turning her head slightly as she follows with her eyes. The tiny dots phase outwards like a television being turned off, though if anything, her gaze on Claude becomes only more fixated. "I think you're the one who's lost," she remarks. "I'm not anything like a what - a lemming."
Claude, though having lost this particular battle, is still sure of his case. Picking up the pills one with interspersed glare in Elle's direction, he answers, "Are you sure?" He doesn't particularly expect an answer, instead asking another when get stands again, pills collected. He briefly jerks his head into the direction of the door. "Once you're done here, out that door, don't you have something else that you've been told needs doing?"
This last sentence irks Elle more than anything else Claude had spoken so far, and it shows a little in her face. "That's how we /do/ it here," she says testily, meeting the glare. "Lemmings? They're too stupid to understand anything they're told, so they go off and do whatever crud they want. Sounds a lot more like you than me."
Claude's glare persists for a few more seconds before, perhaps surprisingly, his gaze softens. Possibly because he's got little choice as to where this conversation is going to go, but… the more likely reason is that he thinks he knows he's right. There's no use arguing about it either way. "You're young. Some day you'll learn the difference between what you need to do, and what you should be doing."
Elle's doesn't. Soften, that is. "Hey now. Don't sound smart just because you're old enough to be my dad." Her voice sounds a little miffed; she shifts one foot on the ground about an inch or two. "I already know what I need to do, and what I should be doing. What /you/ should be doing is taking your pills." That lonely cup of water is still sitting where it had been left.
Claude is /wise/ enough to be your dad. Probably a better one than the one you have now! But… again, this opinion might be better kept silent. The not-so-invisible-man grabs hold of the cup, seeing no other options but to down the handful of pills. Once that's done, he throws Elle an expectant glance. "Go on, then. Do the next of your little chores."
How true - both of those thoughts. Elle eases herself out of her standing position, heading over to sharply pluck the emptied cup from Claude’s grasp. Once done, the door is her next destination, though she places a hand by it just as she’s about to go out. “Don’t worry, Claude. I /will/.” The way she says the words is resolute enough to be foreboding, though she adds the twitch of a snort-smile at the end. She’s not joking. “I’ll make sure they’re done extra special just for you.”
 September 13th: This is My Friend |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 September 13th: Not the Doctor |