cape_kore | [ 01

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Well, now. Think I finally got the hang of this thing.

[He gives the camera an easy smile as he settles in, seated in the room he's claimed for himself with his feet up on the table, legs crossed. Perfectly at home, despite the cold and potentially sterile environment. Sure beats Purgatory, anyway.]

Wonderin' if there's anyone I can talk to about gettin' some grub in this place. Not tryin' to be a princess or anything, but I've got some special dietary needs. Would sure appreciate anyone who could lend a hand.

[That said--]

Now. [His smile fades just a little bit, gaze growing just a touch more serious. Somber never quite fit him, but this will do.] I hear some of you have been to a little place called Purgatory. Y'all should give me a ring, when you've got the time. We may just have some friends in common.

[Translation: Dean, get on the horn now.]

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You'll have to find a window first, darling. And then hope it stays there long enough for a breeze to come through.

[Not always an easy measure. Sometimes Fortescue doesn't see one for days, and they don't appear in her room. She'd give anything to wake up with a forest view, just the once.

Luckily, though, the Center isn't playing a huge game of keep-away for the moment and she recognizes the door of the infirmary. It always looks a bit more damaged than the others, and she really doesn't want to know which resident had managed that when they'd been restrained and poked at. Or maybe they hadn't been restrained at all.

She opens the door, making note of the fact that the infirmary is, for the moment, empty of other people.]

Looks like we have the place to ourselves. [Fortescue considers the room and how much a caster from Imperium would drool about it. In some ways, it's just as advanced. But some of the devices would make a caster squeal. It's almost a shame they don't have one in the Center; they'd be able to help make heads or tails of the place.] ...my country of origin is a lot like this place, I suppose. Taking things from other places to see what makes them tick. No people, though. I suppose that's something in their favor.

Sounds like you don't have much else good to say about 'em.

[An observation, rather than a criticism. He raises an eyebrow as they enter the infirmary, taking a good look around while subtly waiting for the scent of blood to hit him -- it's in here somewhere, cold and bitter as it may be. Better than biting into someone living.]

Not a sore spot for me to be askin' about it, is it, sweetheart?

[She gives an easy sort of shrug, in response, picking up a wrapped up wad of gauze — and then thumbing it, to make sure it is gauze. It's enough that it'll replenish the supply in her room, but there are so many strange things in labs that it pays to be certain. Dressing a wound with something harmful would be wholly counter-productive.]

I'm rather biased, I'll admit. [There's a good reason for that, not that it's casual conversation. She'll play it off as simple disgruntlement, as she usually does.] But there isn't exactly anyone else you could ask. Sometimes this place plucks one person from a world, and sometimes it grabs a lot of them. So far it's just been me.

[Needless to say, it really likes Benny's world.]

S'pose folks from my neck of the woods oughta consider themselves lucky, huh?

[Good luck or bad luck, doesn't seem to matter much. Much like home, this place seems to be six of one, half a dozen of the other. Life isn't exactly easy back there, as difficult as things are supposed to be here. He can't say which is better. A part of him thinks he'd be better off in Purgatory where he's a danger to nobody but those who'd dare stand against him. Here, he might be asking for a rerun of what had happened topside--

Except Dean was here and in close quarters. It would be hard for them to ignore each other. Meant maybe Benny would have someone to hold himself accountable to for the long haul -- not to mention Fortescue was already becoming someone he considered a friend.

Wouldn't it be nice if he could look to her as an anchor, too. The more people to live for, the better. Helped keep him on track.]

I'll let you give me the details over dinner sometime. Seems like raiding the clinic for blood bags ain't exactly the best time to be sharin' histories.

[See what he did there, Fort? He smirks vaguely before he starts snooping around, locating the cooling unit. Popping the door open, he finds exactly what he's looking for -- though some of the bags there smell distinctly not human, he's pretty sure he can pick out what's relatively safe.]

Jackpot.

[A smile is flashed in his direction.]

I think I could be persuaded.

[She chuckles, locating a small bottle of anti-septic to clean wounds and sliding it into one of her pockets. The basics are covered. Fortescue's worked with a lot less, and who knows if the Center will even let her keep these things in a crisis. Hopefully it will.

When did her life become thinking about a building as a vaguely malevolent, living entity? Benny's comment draws her attention away from her thoughts.]

Find something that will work?

I'll keep that in mind.

[He smirks to himself as he retrieves what he came for -- he can't remember the last time he was so happy to see bagged blood.]

Smells human. This one does, anyway.

[He holds up one of the blood bags on display before pulling its fellows out of the cooler. No reason to be shy, right? Usually one or two would do it, but he's gone a few days without, and Purgatory hadn't been kind to him. Still had a few wounds that could use some helping along, just to get them closed for good.]

Ain't so sure about the rest. Doesn't exactly seem like I should take it on faith and give 'em a whirl, not in this place. Stick to what I know.

You could, if you were feeling adventurous, but then you'd have to deal with... I don't know. Growing antlers, or turning invisible, or whatever else this place might decide to throw at you.

[Really, the sky is the limit. That's what she's gleaned out of her many-month stay in this place. She'd missed the... joy of being turned into another species, at least. That had happened directly before her arrival.

Fortescue grins.]

Not that you probably couldn't make antlers work, but they might make getting through doors difficult.

Think I'll save that particular adventure for when I'm feelin' real desperate. Not that I'm not plenty adventurous, but I think I'm pretty cute and cuddly as is. Would be a shame to ruin that.

[He's not sure he could wear antlers or a tail particularly well.

He smiles a little before he goes about popping open the first bag without hesitation, no shyness about drinking in front of someone -- he is what he is and he'll do what he has to do, though he'd probably be a little warier around a complete stranger. Still, he's gone long enough without that his level of caring is next to nil.

Despite having no need for breath, he exhales slowly after he takes the first long sip from the attached tube, closing his eyes for a moment.]

Much, much better.

It certainly would.

[He doesn't explode, melt or grow antlers! All good signs. Fortescue's chuckling as she glances through a metal drawer that seems to be full of medication. That's what the bottle shapes would suggest, at least. Some of them are in English and some of them... well, those characters aren't from any Earth she's familiar with.

That's a pity — some of these things might be useful. But swallowing mystery pills is a no-no.

Fortescue glances over at him, and if she finds the visual of someone sucking blood out of a bag less than pleasant — it doesn't cross her face. She's seen worse, and the worse tends to completely eclipse everything else. Little things like infiltrating an Elben Mahr event and having to watch elves nibble on what used to be human beings. She has a strong stomach, and she's needed it.]

Hopefully this place restocks as often as the kitchen does.

[Despite the fact that she doesn't flinch, he turns himself away -- just enough to keep his drinking from being so blatant, but not enough to hide his face entirely. He might hate his own kind, but he can't make excuses for what he is. Gotta drink something red, no ifs, ands or buts about it. Dean had watched him drink on more than one occasion, but if he could help it, he liked to do it away from human eyes. Now, of course, was something of an emergency. He'd gone without too long.

He exhales heavily, the first bag half-drained, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.]

Here's hopin'. Otherwise, I'm not long for this world. Last death was quick and clean. Don't think I could take starvin'. Not too macho to say I'm not interested in a slow death.

Slow deaths are overrated.

[That would be a joke, from most people, but from Fortescue it's experience talking. She's keenly aware she was on the verge of death when the Center had kidnapped her, the last time. An hour, at the most, her life drained away by a magic deprivation field, a few fists, and some knives. Still, she keeps her tone light enough. It's sort of a joke.]

A bit too glorified by the cinema, if you ask me, where being macho is concerned.

[Why would you want to die slowly, covered in your own blood? Honestly. Action films have it all wrong. There's no pride in it; all of that drains away until you simply wish for death, or an escape. Those in intelligence know that the best. Torture is unreliable for information simply because the victim will say anything to be free, one way or another.]

Of course, you might come back to a cooler full of... blue blood, or something, instead.

[Life in the Center is... an adventure.]

[He's not stupid. She says that like she knows, and the part of him that still resembles something human immediately feels both sympathy and regret. He's been the cause of plenty of slow deaths in his time, not always as friendly as he considered himself to be now. He wasn't proud of himself, but there were certain things he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to make up for. That -- the disregard for human life he'd had while under the Old Man's command -- was just one of them.]

Good for drama, I s'pose, but not so good in practice. Not to mention humiliatin', cruel...

[He's not envious of anyone who goes that way.]

Give me a good, clean beheading and I'm set.

[His usual cheer is still present, tireless as ever, and yet something in his voice almost breaks just then, wavers. It hasn't been all that long, after all.]

Blue blood, huh. Well... might have to be desperate first, but don't wanna be accused of never tryin' anything new.

[It's a heavy topic, and Fortescue veers off of it as she hears the little shift in Benny's voice. No need to bring it up any more than they have. And in any case, he needs to feed, not talk to her. Maybe it's time for her to make an exit, and for him to quench his hunger.

Now that they've done the impossible and found the infirmary in a timely manner!]

That might be too adventurous, darling. [She quirks a smile.] And I say that as a very adventurous person. Shall I leave you to it?

Probably for the best, sweetheart.

[He gives her a grateful smile all the same. The way these corridors shift, he might never have found the place on his own, or at least not before he was driven to come too close to a slip-up for comfort.]

You don't need t'watch this. [He knows no human in their right mind would want to.] But thank you. I'll catch up with you later?

[Because right now, he's not in any position to allow potential friends to slip away.]

Of course — Center willing.

[Fortescue gives him a wink. Either of them remaining in the building is up to the building itself. But she's not going anywhere, if she can help it. This is pretty much her home now. Maybe that's a sad state of things, but she doesn't care. It's a better state than what she has waiting for her.]

I'll see you then.

[And with the soft patter of cat feet behind her, she's out, her pilfered items in her arms for safe keeping in her room.]

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