Participants:
| Scene Title | Someday |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Adam and Elle have a short discussion about vacation possibilities. |
| Date | September 7, 2008 |
Primatech Research — Cell Block A
Two o'clock in the afternoon. Since eight in the morning, Adam has positively /not/ shut his mouth. He's been yelling up a storm since everyone else woke up, trying to get some attention - and most of the agents have decided to ignore his little tantrum. Still he screams. Someone, eventually, will listen to him and his indignant rage. At this point in the day he's risen from his bed again and is pacing at the large window, having lifted the blinds so he can see out of it. His fists hammer at the sturdy barrier on every pass he makes. "Hey. HEY. I know someone's bloody well out there!"
Someone /is/ bloody well out there, and it's Adam's luck that it happens to be Elle. She'd been out for the majority of the morning, having left slightly before the tantrum had started - a reason she hadn't trampled down to Cell Block A the moment it did. After all, very few people in the building have such a ridiculously low tolerance for interruptions. Now, she's back, a small, rectangular black handbag still dangling from one shoulder. Her hair is in a ponytail, which swings heavily from side to side as she appears around the corner of the corridor. "What is /wrong/ with you?"
Elle shows up just in time to have Adam's palms slap up against the glass around the level of her face. He stops his little fit when she comes into view, his breath steadying as he stares her down. Silence reigns after her question until he suddenly folds his arms over his chest and lifts his chin, haughtily peering down his nose at the agent. "I want a vacation." No, he didn't stutter.
As it happens, Elle has to stare /up/ as she halts behind the window; the prisoner is almost a full foot taller than her. She doesn't flinch, tilting her chin upwards and watching through narrowed blue eyes like a little tigress. Her next thought tumbles out of her mouth, with the result that her shoulders rise and her eyes narrow even further. "Are you stupid?"
"Absolutely not. But I've been in custody for thirty bloody years, and I've had enough. I want a vacation." Adam nods with his last words, reaffirming their strength and conviction. He readjusts his stance as well, squinting down towards Elle with a sour look on his face. "A week. Two, perhaps. I'd like to go back to Japan. Even California."
"Really. You're making a perfect impression of it." Elle shifts her weight abruptly back to one foot, moving her hand onto the other so they're both resting atop her purse. "You /do/ realize that you're locked in here for a reason, right? You're entertaining, but not funny."
Reason or not, Adam is very… adamant. "I can make your lives miserable, Miss Bishop, if I really feel the need." Yelling at all hours, for instance. He can do that. "I don't think a couple of weeks out in the world - even chaperoned - is too much to ask after all this time."
Talking with Elle is ultimately pointless. She doesn't have the authority to sanction anything of that nature, and surely Adam knows that. "Yeah? And what would make you come /back/?"
At that Adam grins, and leans one shoulder up against the window. It's almost as though he's not even here, and is simply chatting up a pretty girl for the simple fun of it. "That's the point of a chaperone or two. I'd even take you with me if I had to." Elle is just the first step. As long as the idea is planted somewhere.
As soon as Adam does, Elle spreads her palm on the glass somewhere above his head (which isn't far above it, admittedly) and leans inward towards him. She does not look amused, though she somehow can't work up the mood to simply leave, either. "You're /here/. Adam. Because someone decided you should spend the rest of your life here." Against the glass, that hand raps all its long fingernails at once. "That means forever. Do the math."
"Don't be silly, Elle. As I've mentioned before, no one has the resources to keep me here for the rest of my life. The rest of my life is longer than everyone else's. And," Adam adds, tapping an index finger at the glass at Elle's nose-level, "I'd have thought you'd be the last person to tell someone to behave themselves. I've heard some gossip about daddy's little soldier."
Well, Adam's been here for a generation or two already. No reason his captors can't simply keep passing it down. As though reacting to a fly, Elle starts when the finger appears to nearly hit her nose. "I don't care what you've heard about me," she hisses, quickly reorienting her face close to the glass. "If you think /dad's/ so stupid that he'd let you out of that room, you need to spend a few more years thinking it out."
Adam continues to tap at the glass, intending to do nothing more than simply /annoy/ Elle into being more responsive. It's a fascinating plan. "I see. So - no interest in the beach? California? Surfing, even?" Because Elle probably deals /so/ well with water. "We could always take a romantic getaway to scenic Utah."
It's. Well. Working. "Are you /listening/ to me?" In order to drown out Adam's rambling voice, Elle's own voice has raised itself to several levels above normal. Enough, as a matter of speaking, to attract the attention of anybody hanging around the general area - if it hadn't already. "Don't make me come inside."
"Oooo. I'm terrified. Itty bitty blonde girl is going to come inside my box? Attack me with her heels, perhaps?" Adam looks So Afraid that he even gives his hands a waggle at the window, grinning like an idiot. "Not Utah, then. I suggest Mexico. Haven't been there in decades."
That is /it/.
Adam is left alone for several quiet, lone minutes as the click of those heels fade down the hallway. It might seem, after a breather, as though she's gone for good, but he should know better—
Because now, it sounds like someone is /attacking/ his door rather than simply unlocking it to come inside. The first thing she does is slam it behind her (a second BAM right behind the first). And there's Elle in all her five-foot-one glory, ponytail ruffled and tenseness visible in her lower jaw.
By the time Elle is at the door, Adam is there. Waiting. With his empty food tray gripped in his hands and poised up at the height of his waist to hide it from view. The very second that Elle makes it into the cell and shuts the door behind her, he lifts the tray and gives it a hefty swing. Right at her face.
With her nerves as highstrung as they currently are, Elle had been expecting Adam to attempt some sort of move as soon as she entered. She ducks beneath and away from the tray, the bottom clipping her flying ponytail as it whooshes past. From this new position, she blasts a ZZZRAK of forked voltage at Adam's knee-level.
Adam's knees spasm as electricity suddenly hits them, his blow with the tray flying harmlessly wide - much to his annoyance. His limbs fail him, though, and he ends up tumbling forward and down. Rather than fall on his face the prisoner drops his hold on the tray, letting it clatter to the ground while he catches himself on his palms, one leg sliding wildly out towards the side.
Elle isn't honorable enough to stop at Adam's fall. She follows his descent to the floor by dropping her handbag onto it, where it thuds onto its side beside the clattering tray. There is a second discharge, this time from her underhanded palm - which she calculates and unleashes the second Adam moves to catch himself with his hands.
"Agh!" Adam's face wrenches in pain as he's hit again, the current passing through his entire body on this newest strike. His choked yells accompany the rapid jerking of his muscles as they all fail him yet again, dropping him the rest of the way down until his face smacks against the cool linoleum floor, mashing his cheek against it while he shudders. /Ow/.
ZZT. ZZT. ZZT. It /does not stop there/, much as that might have been the expectation. The sound of giggling can be heard above as Elle aims little love-zaps down at the backside of Adam's legs, each one enough to make them jerk as fresh flesh is flayed away. Dance, baby.
Raw, sizzling flesh doesn't really feel too great against scratchy pajamas. Adam continues to scream against the floor for several moments, his breath soon coming in shuddery little gulps of pain. But: "Fine. Forget Mexico. How about Canada?"
After a final ZZZZT that's longer than the ones preceding, Elle, apparently, finally decides she's done. To add insult to injury, she briefly kneels down to ruffle the top of Adam's hair, smiling widely and prettily above her own heaving chest. "Someday, baby. You wish."
Adam grimaces throughout the rest of Elle's special expression of affection. At least he's stopped screaming - and his body will fix itself right up in no time. The touches to his head seem to provoke him once again, though, at least verbally. "'Someday' is sooner than you think."
Without answering, Elle's lips curve shut into a closed smile as she straightens. She administers one last, roguish pat to Adam's crown as though she were playing with a dog, pausing on her way out only to stoop for the handbag where it had fallen. The door soon falls shut again, its re-locking the last thing Adam'll hear from Elle before her footsteps pace into silence.
 September 6th: Permit Yourself Happiness |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 September 7th: A Likely Story |