As the day began drawing to a close, the intercom flickered to life. Instead of Harrington's voice, however, Berg's calm tone filtered through the speakers
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Byrne was actually thankful to get back to the room before Dr. McCoy tonight. It meant he'd have at least a few minutes to be completely alone. He wasn't feeling the least bit social anymore, despite having talked with someone who had been able to lift his mood a little. Everything was just weighing down on him so much that a quiet moment to himself actually sounded good for once
( ... )
McCoy wandered in a few minutes after and had to stop to take the room in. Byrne drooped in his chair over something, and staring at something on his desk, shoulders slumped, head down. Something tugged at him. It felt familiar, like McCoy had seen Byrne like this before. He probably had, a few days ago. Funny how you took just some clarity of mind and for once, not having your brain collapsing, as something for granted.
A letter. That was it last time, something about his daughter. McCoy sat down at his own desk, legs swung to the side, and looked at his roommate. Not a letter this time.
And there was McCoy, but there was no reaction to his entering the room this time, and still no reaction until a few seconds after the other man had spoken. Byrne slowly turned to look at him, still...not sure exactly what to say, how to react. Like his brain had finally decided to die after everything that had happened today - or all week, at that. Byrne.exe has encountered a problem and needs to shut down, we are sorry for the inconvenience...
Just. Not even. What.
Did McCoy ask a question? ...Oh...
What are words. Say something, you idiot, he asked you something. SPEAK. "...I didn't think they'd...just give this back to me so easily." Byrne spoke slowly, like he was dreaming, and he pointed at the gun sitting next to the box on his desk to show what he was talking about. Obviously the gun was not the reason why his motor functions just decided to crap out on him all of a sudden, but it was the final weight that had caused him to collapse under a tower of stress.
From what he could remember of the last time he saw Byrne hunched over a desk, he didn't have nearly the same gut-crushed reaction, even when it was a letter from his daughter. McCoy leaned over where he was, trying to peer at his face. The doctor's eyes flicked to the gun when Byrne pointed at it, and then back to Byrne's face. It was like the man wasn't even there.
"Is that yours?" McCoy asked. If it wasn't before, it obviously was now. What were the new staff trying to pull? Giving the patients weapons now? Byrne's reaction seemed a bit extreme for a simple possession. Unless he was that attached to it, or it had sentimental value, there had to be something more to the gun.
Byrne slowly shook his head. "No, it's...it belongs to a friend of mine. I took it from his room yesterday and had it on me until this morning, when I woke up to find it missing..." He still had no idea how Badd even got the thing to begin with, but that was far from being the biggest concern on his mind right now. What was more important was simply the fact that the gun was now back in Byrne's possession, for some reason or another. Why? Why would the people in charge freely give a handgun of all things back to a patient? What advantage did that give them? Why did they have to do their nightly torture sessions? Why did there have to be more questions around here than answers? Why was Badd so stubbornly resisting Byrne's help? Why did he have to say those things before? Why
( ... )
Byrne's answer didn't exactly helping to clear anything up. It sounded like there was sentimental value because it was a friend, but at the same time, Byrne was more stunned to find it missing and then to get it back. So why was he reacting this way? He looked more upset than when he got the letter from his daughter. Confused, McCoy could get. Suspicious, he could get. But not this.
Maybe he was missing something. He had to be, Byrne wasn't exactly forthcoming right now, or making much sense. Probably had everything to with what exactly was eating him. "So you're upset you got it back again?" Shouldn't he return it?
As the conversation went on and Byrne slowly came back to his senses, he started to feel more and more awkward being in this position. He was depressed, sure, and he wanted to let out that depression, but...ugghh. He didn't want to make McCoy feel uncomfortable because of him and his problems. And yet, he also didn't really want to start trying to force himself to cheer up like he'd been doing intermittently all day. Sigh.
Directing his attention to the doctor's question was probably the best idea right now. "W-well, not really, but--yeah. I mean, why would they just give a gun back to a patient? Isn't that kind of a dumb move on their part?" But then again, what could he do with it besides shoot monsters? (Or patients, but that wasn't something he would do.) There were only a measly ten bullets that came with it, after all. Maybe this was the Institute's way of saying ha ha, we'll let you have this lethal weapon because it's not like you can get out of here with it anyway?
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A letter. That was it last time, something about his daughter. McCoy sat down at his own desk, legs swung to the side, and looked at his roommate. Not a letter this time.
"What's wrong?"
Reply
Just. Not even. What.
Did McCoy ask a question? ...Oh...
What are words. Say something, you idiot, he asked you something. SPEAK. "...I didn't think they'd...just give this back to me so easily." Byrne spoke slowly, like he was dreaming, and he pointed at the gun sitting next to the box on his desk to show what he was talking about. Obviously the gun was not the reason why his motor functions just decided to crap out on him all of a sudden, but it was the final weight that had caused him to collapse under a tower of stress.
Reply
"Is that yours?" McCoy asked. If it wasn't before, it obviously was now. What were the new staff trying to pull? Giving the patients weapons now? Byrne's reaction seemed a bit extreme for a simple possession. Unless he was that attached to it, or it had sentimental value, there had to be something more to the gun.
Reply
Reply
Maybe he was missing something. He had to be, Byrne wasn't exactly forthcoming right now, or making much sense. Probably had everything to with what exactly was eating him. "So you're upset you got it back again?" Shouldn't he return it?
Reply
Directing his attention to the doctor's question was probably the best idea right now. "W-well, not really, but--yeah. I mean, why would they just give a gun back to a patient? Isn't that kind of a dumb move on their part?" But then again, what could he do with it besides shoot monsters? (Or patients, but that wasn't something he would do.) There were only a measly ten bullets that came with it, after all. Maybe this was the Institute's way of saying ha ha, we'll let you have this lethal weapon because it's not like you can get out of here with it anyway?
Reply
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