Daniel Ayers (ʟᴏᴋɪ ʟᴀᴜғᴇʏsᴏɴ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lookulittleshit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2014-04-08 05:26 pm
lookulittleshit) wrote in savetheearth2014-04-08 05:26 pm
[closed] oh shit son
Who: Daniel & Reagan
When: April 8th, night
Where: The basement of an undisclosed location on the outskirts of Locke
What: Albero's mafia is imprisoning a reincarnate and unwittingly sends another reincarnate to look him over.
Warnings: tba
Upstairs, one of Vincent's capos is briefing Daniel on the prisoner held in the basement. Nervous does not even begin to describe his state -- Daniel's. Numbered. The person the mafia is imprisoning is a Numbered.
This is far too close for comfort. If he could turn away, he would.
He can't.
He fails to realize he's been rubbing his fingers together anxiously until the capo points it out. Heart rapidly beating, he explains it away as apprehension to be meeting one of those up close and personal. The capo doesn't deign him with a direct response, but rather directs him to the basement.
The guard stationed outside of it unlocks the door, then shuts it after Daniel steps in. If the capo were to have his way, the guard would accompany him, but Daniel had (passively) argued against it. Rather that he enter solo and avoid stressing the person out needlessly with someone they already consider an antagonist.
With his grip white-knuckled on his briefcase, Daniel descends the stairs. The lighting is poor; the center is illuminated by incandescent light, the likes of which fails to extend to the edges of the room. He hides the lower half of his face behind a bandanna -- not his first choice, but one heavily preferred over leaving himself bare for easy identification.
The best method of identity concealment would be that sorcery he's been practicing, but... ha ha ha. He's not going to risk it here.
When: April 8th, night
Where: The basement of an undisclosed location on the outskirts of Locke
What: Albero's mafia is imprisoning a reincarnate and unwittingly sends another reincarnate to look him over.
Warnings: tba
Upstairs, one of Vincent's capos is briefing Daniel on the prisoner held in the basement. Nervous does not even begin to describe his state -- Daniel's. Numbered. The person the mafia is imprisoning is a Numbered.
This is far too close for comfort. If he could turn away, he would.
He can't.
He fails to realize he's been rubbing his fingers together anxiously until the capo points it out. Heart rapidly beating, he explains it away as apprehension to be meeting one of those up close and personal. The capo doesn't deign him with a direct response, but rather directs him to the basement.
The guard stationed outside of it unlocks the door, then shuts it after Daniel steps in. If the capo were to have his way, the guard would accompany him, but Daniel had (passively) argued against it. Rather that he enter solo and avoid stressing the person out needlessly with someone they already consider an antagonist.
With his grip white-knuckled on his briefcase, Daniel descends the stairs. The lighting is poor; the center is illuminated by incandescent light, the likes of which fails to extend to the edges of the room. He hides the lower half of his face behind a bandanna -- not his first choice, but one heavily preferred over leaving himself bare for easy identification.
The best method of identity concealment would be that sorcery he's been practicing, but... ha ha ha. He's not going to risk it here.
no subject
By the time the doctor returns, Reagan is back in his spot in the corner. The only thing that gives away that he moved is the fact his hair is damp still. Just stretching his legs out flat has been nice. For maybe ten or fifteen minutes he thinks he'd be able to sleep on the floor better. He's never slept on the floor in his life, but it seems inviting. Strange how things change. He's never really been admitted to the hospital, so this is his first experience with an IV. His expression lightens on the mention of some candy.
"Yeah. I like most candy."
no subject
It's a Reese's Easter bunny chocolate that one of the capo's men were willing to part with.
"This will be easier if you're sitting in the chair again."
no subject
At the mention of the chair, he doesn't look very comfortable. Reluctantly, he gets up while unwrapping the candy and starts taking a bite. He's thought a lot about the way food used to taste, and his stomach growls the moment he smells the chocolate.
He sits down and tries to get a better look at the doctor's face. "Am I dehydrated? I don't know why they'd send a doctor to keep me alive but refuse to give me food."
no subject
"Perhaps they wondered how long you'd last," he says blandly, not keen to consider the ways in which the mafia is treating Reagan simply because he's a Numbered. His discomfort stems not from noble ideals, but that he could easily be in Reagan's place.
"Lay your arm out, straight."
no subject
While he doesn't like returning to the chair, he's made a point of sitting on the straps so they can't be pulled over him. He even steps on the straps at the ankles. He's sized up the doctor. There's no way he'll accept the jacket to be locked into place, or the straps on the chair. If he's keeping an IV in his arm, he won't be able to lock the straight jacket anyway.
After he's rolled up the buckled sleeve and laid his arm out, he glances toward the bag and pole. Well, it looks like a saline solution. With his free hand, he gobbles down the rest of the chocolate bunny.
"I don't suppose the words 'don't do anything weird to me' apply anymore." One of his heels has been tapping the chair nonstop, nervously.
no subject
"I'm not the one doing anything 'weird' to you," he says, reaching for the catheter. Holding it between his teeth, he twists the cap off and feels for a vein with his pinky finger. Speaking around the cap, he continues, "If you've never had a catheter placed before, this may feel uncomfortable. If you'd rather look away, now is the time to do it."
no subject
For the better part of the next minute, Reagan is quiet again. The pain medication is working. His head no longer hurts, and if he draws this out too long, he might not be able to continue prodding at Veda to find out more information. He's watching the doctor like a hawk, determined not to let anyone get him back into these confines.
no subject
To accomplish this, Daniel had injected the sedative into the rubbery part of the IV line prior to returning. Since the drug is clear, there's no indication that the line has been tampered with.
Keeping a lid on his trepidation that Reagan will later lash out against him in resentment, he inserts the catheter and secures it with medical tape, and then he inserts the syringe of the IV line into the catheter and secures that, too.
He stands and fiddles with the line to adjust the drip rate. The sedative loitering in the line itself flows into Reagan's blood stream, followed by the normosol. In a few minutes, Reagan will begin to feel sluggish.
Daniel hopes to be gone before then.
"That's it. This will provide what you're lacking," he says, voice betraying none of his concern. He tells Reagan when to stop the drip and shows him how to do so, then goes about cleaning up and putting his supplies away.
On his way up the stairs, he adds, "I'll talk to them about upgrading their hospitality."
no subject
He doesn't like silence anymore. He's had enough of it, and it's hard to stay awake, or get restful sleep with nightmares when there's such a stale weight to the room. Reagan quickly scoots forward, to the edge of the chair, but he's sensitive about the IV. He's already exhausted, and it's even easier for the sedative to coerce him asleep. Once he's out, someone else situates him back in the chair. They secure his confines, and double check them. No, he's not going anywhere.