Participants:
| Scene Title | Morning, Sunshine |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Adam is roused by an unwelcome female figure. Breakfast is a gift, not a privilege. |
| Date | September 6, 2008 |
Primatech Research, Cell Block A
Down here in the cells, it never really matters what time it is; there are no windows to see daylight with anyway. However, one’s biological instinct can still easily find itself oriented to the most basic of urges: time to sleep, time to eat. Right now, it’s time to /wake/, though outside it’s still the wee hours of the morning. Elle (and the little helpful material things that usually accompany her in, such as a cold tray that’s currently lying on the floor near the bed) has apparently decided so. The straight-backed chair in the cell is vacant. Adam will awaken to the feel of soft, amused blue eyes on his face and a stroking hand behind his base of his skull. Creepy.
His time at the company has made Adam somewhat lax in terms of his sleeping schedule, and on this particular morning he would've been happy to linger in bed until noon. Elle's interruption, however, causes his eyelids to flutter slowly, threatening the onset of consciousness. It doesn't hit him quite as quickly as he would have preferred and a few long moments pass after his eyes open. Once Elle's face swims into focus, however - "/Christ/ in heaven!" This is accompanied by a wild flurry of movement as he ducks out from under Elle's hand, his back soon slamming up against the wall so he can stare at the Company woman with a bemused expression on his face. Creepy Elle is Creepy.
The sudden onset of movement startles her so she pulls back, but Elle lets her hand pause in the air for a second after Adam’s pulled away from it. Her eyes are still laughing. “Took you long enough to notice, sleepy.” /How/ long has she been sitting there, exactly? Definitely hard to say. She makes her voice coy, but she gives him the dignity and relief of starting to half-rise. “Did you have sweet dreams?”
"Have you no sense of common decency?" It is probably a rhetorical question. Adam doesn't really expect Elle to be anything even close to sane, and he rubs the lower half of his face with the heel of one hand, his gaze never leaving the woman's face. After a moment he drops his hands down to let them hang loosely over his stomach. "—Sweet as they can be, I suppose. They'd be sweeter if I wasn't quite so… confined."
No ‘probably’ is needed; instead of answering, Elle lets her smile grow brighter and wider, staring at Adam after thoughtfully biting her lip. “Breakfast is on the floor,” she adds, nudging the edge of a metallic-gray tray with her heeled toe. A pannikin of cold soup is there, along with machine-brewed coffee and what looks disgustingly like a roll. “Don’t be like that. You’re going to be here forever /anyway/, so you might as well stop talking about it like it’s going to change.”
Breakfast on the floor and a creepy blonde as a wakeup call - it's absolutely Adam's Number One Way to start the day. "You're just a bloody bright ray of sunshine, aren't you. Regardless of what your daddy may have told you, I'm not going to be staying here forever. Never fear." Nope. There are Plans for Escape, even if as yet they're vague enough to qualify only as intensified desire. Adam leans forward over the edge of the bed, taking hold of the bedframe to support himself while he takes a glance down towards the food on the tray. "Take it back and bring me a basket of scones."
“Of course you are. You’ve been here for thirty years. You can be here thirty more.” And thirty more. It’s the Grand Tradition of prisoners to scheme for escaping. Not like they have a whole lot else to do. It’s Elle’s turn to give Adam a look, neatly flouncing into a sitting position on the bed next to his vacated impression. She tucks a single lifted knee between her interlaced fingers, returning her gaze to the man only after she completes this action. “Sorry. It’s all you’re getting, pajama boy.”
Adam leans back with a slightly irritated look once he realizes that Elle has taken up residence on his bed. Uninvited guests are, in a word, annoying. It's something he's more or less learned to deal with in recent years, though, and he crosses his legs, head tipping back to rest on the wall so he can watch Elle without putting in too much effort. "Well, it's unacceptable." Nevermind the depressing talk of three more decades behind Company walls.
Adam might be hard pressed to find a guest here he’d actually want to invite. Or that he’d be able to invite. Elle rolls her head towards him lazily, her lips thinned in a questioning ‘hm?’ “We don’t have to feed you at all, you know. If you want to look like a sack of bones over and over, be my guest.” Though she doesn’t shift, her foot suddenly kicks out as though to step on the rim of the tray nearest her, and thus, upend it completely.
But Adam intends to eat that so-called meal after he finishes with the task of complaining about it. He snaps a hand forward to grip the part of Elle's kicking leg just under her knee, holding the limb still. "I know a few things about cruel and unusual punishment. If you think you can make my life miserable, go ahead and try - but you'll be paying the price when I'm out."
Really. Elle doesn't need any encouragement to go ahead and try. When she feels her lower leg compromised, she violently attempts to wrench it free at the same that that she releases a ZZZZRAK of crackling sparks into Adam's shoulder. Though he'll regenerate, and she obviously knows it, the 'muscle spaz' reflex is standard-issue for everyone; in a moment, there will be a scent of burnt flesh near the bed in addition to bad breakfast food.
"Augh!" Tempted though he is to keep his hand on Elle's leg, Adam can't help but be distracted by the sudden roasting of his shoulder. He rolls to the side and ends up lying flat on his back, hanging partway off the mattress while clutching at his shoulder. Being able to heal doesn't make it not hurt. Thankfully, the scorched area soon pinkens and then recedes, leaving perfect flesh behind. "Dammit, woman."
Elle spontaneously shifts to make room for Adam’s roll, her bright laugh lasting throughout his interjection as she swings her feet to the floor. An innocently repentant look steals across her face as she heads- jauntily- towards the door, stepping carelessly over the fussed-over tray in the process. “Enjoy your breakfast, Adam.”
 September 6th: Faith |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 September 6th: Wakeup Call |