![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who|: Alex Murphy, Clara Murphy, Dave Strider
What|: He performs a welfare check on Dave at Clara's request and also has to coach Clara how to give him his nutritional intake. Alex proves to be a poor surrogate father figure.
Where|: First Floor
When|: Early week 2
Warnings/Notes|: Hot oil injuries, eye gore: basically references to Tributes who aren't in good shape.
He's never met Dave Strider, but between Clara's description of him and her confirmation that he should be on the third floor, Alex believes it won't be an issue to find him, check up on him and then report back to Clara. It's unclear if it's some kind of subconscious guilt about what happened to her eye. Something to make up for the way she looked at him when he gave her the same fair treatment he'd give any cooperative civilian. A welfare check should be lower on his priority list. Logically Alex knows that and yet he manually overrides his priorities and puts "Strider, Dave" ahead of Ms. Milo's pacification.
Alex enters the Strider Shoppe, head turning left and then right, as systematic as ever. He passes rows of sunglasses on display and it doesn't occur to him that all the racket he makes could be seen as threatening. That Venus's hot oil facial has ruined a face OmniCorp made sure was camera-ready, human.
"Mr. Strider? It's Detective Murphy. Clara sent me to see how you're doing," Alex even announces himself, polite, professional and detached, and the way he says his wife's name, she might as well be anyone picked off the street. He stops at a junction in the aisle sandwiched between t-shirts and yet another row of shades, his eye roving slowly and waiting for Mr. Strider to reveal himself.
He doesn't fidget or shift the little container with the glucose solutions from hand to hand. Waiting is easy when your ability to give a crap has been suppressed. No jitters, no wondering what kind of people Clara's been hanging out with.
What|: He performs a welfare check on Dave at Clara's request and also has to coach Clara how to give him his nutritional intake. Alex proves to be a poor surrogate father figure.
Where|: First Floor
When|: Early week 2
Warnings/Notes|: Hot oil injuries, eye gore: basically references to Tributes who aren't in good shape.
He's never met Dave Strider, but between Clara's description of him and her confirmation that he should be on the third floor, Alex believes it won't be an issue to find him, check up on him and then report back to Clara. It's unclear if it's some kind of subconscious guilt about what happened to her eye. Something to make up for the way she looked at him when he gave her the same fair treatment he'd give any cooperative civilian. A welfare check should be lower on his priority list. Logically Alex knows that and yet he manually overrides his priorities and puts "Strider, Dave" ahead of Ms. Milo's pacification.
Alex enters the Strider Shoppe, head turning left and then right, as systematic as ever. He passes rows of sunglasses on display and it doesn't occur to him that all the racket he makes could be seen as threatening. That Venus's hot oil facial has ruined a face OmniCorp made sure was camera-ready, human.
"Mr. Strider? It's Detective Murphy. Clara sent me to see how you're doing," Alex even announces himself, polite, professional and detached, and the way he says his wife's name, she might as well be anyone picked off the street. He stops at a junction in the aisle sandwiched between t-shirts and yet another row of shades, his eye roving slowly and waiting for Mr. Strider to reveal himself.
He doesn't fidget or shift the little container with the glucose solutions from hand to hand. Waiting is easy when your ability to give a crap has been suppressed. No jitters, no wondering what kind of people Clara's been hanging out with.
no subject
Of course, Clara isn't present on his mind when he hears the sounds of someone loudly entering his not-so-secret hiding place. Loki is off doing his own thing, so he's alone and huddled up behind a display with no intention of budging until he absolutely needs to.
As it happens, hearing Clara's name is one of those little things that makes him a little more inclined to play along. He doubts a real threat would announce itself anyway, but he's still wary as he sidles out into the open to get a look at his guest. His brows raise so high they're threatening to disappear into his hairline.
"You're.. Okay. Wow." He's having a little bit of a moment, don't mind him. As for his welfare? Well, he's clearly alright, though he's considerably roughed up from his fights. "I'm great, shit has never been better." He shrugs his shoulders. "S'up with you... Sir." Adding that makes everything better.
no subject
"Patrolling. What happened to you?" He fixes that flat brown eye on Mr. Strider. Bruises all over his face, shades of purple and blue, small cuts that seem to indicate rings on his assailants hands. His stare travels down to the kid's hand, that semi-circle ring of marks saying he's been bitten, too. "I can follow up on your testimony and pacify your attacker. Or attackers."
He adds that as an afterthought. Pacification for that would probably be lethal, he thinks, because it's much cleaner. No chance of repeat offenses. It doesn't matter to him if Venus's crime against Clara was worse than the evidence he sees all over Mr. Strider.
no subject
"I got into a fight." He says it quickly, it's almost blurted out like he's wary of lying to him. He might as well be forthcoming with it, it isn't a big deal in a place like this. He shifts his weight on his feet at the offer, because he doesn't care too much about what happens to Eridan but he knows damn well the troll would kill his friends indiscriminately given the chance.
"Eridan. He's a troll-alien thing and a troublemaker douchebag, like Venus." He doesn't even know who Venus is, but he hates her for what she did to Clara. That was needlessly gross. "Did you ever catch her?" He cocks his head to the side, hoping to move onto something he feels less awkward about.
no subject
Alex doesn't seem to know where that line is between awkward and slightly-less awkward is. As far as he's concerned, he has nothing to hide and neither should Mr. Strider: he was forthcoming about getting into a fight and that level of honest is something to appreciate. He doesn't ask what caused it, if it was worth it or if Mr. Strider gave Eridan a black eye to write home about.
no subject
"He's about this high.." He gestures a little lower than himself to indicate. "Grey. Purple streak in his hair. Horns. Dresses like a thrift store vomited all over him." He feels like that's specific enough to discern him from other trolls. "If it comes down to it, Venus is probably more of a threat. Who knows how many eyeballs she'll pilfer before she's satisfied? I mean, that is if you take requests. I'm just saying."
Think Clara should jump in around here?
He files that information about Venus and Eridan away, and notes "STRIDER, DAVE - EXTREMELY COOPERATIVE". It's the closest thing to approval he can manage. He nods, a precise up-down of his head, and while he isn't capable of judging what, exactly, "thrift store vomit" looks like, he assumes it's a reference to colorful clothes. Perhaps heavily mismatched or old.
"I'll look for him while I look for Ms. Milo," Alex pauses a fraction of a second, processing something. Seems like he needs a little bit more time to deal with civilians on this social level, especially civilians like Mr. Strider and his...temperament.
"I can follow-up on concerns you have, but I do have my priorities," Alex finally says, missing the point entirely. It's the safe, logical answer.
yesss works for me
"Multi-tasking, awesome. Love it, love what you do. I'm a big fan, by the way." He claps his hands together, trying his darnedest not to be too awkward about admitting that. "No concerns, nope. Just offering my hands-on perspective."
sob this is the latest, sorry.
Which is why, really, it's a relief when she walks in and sees them talking and being all around civil. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Re: sob this is the latest, sorry.
He dips his chin in acknowledgement, taking a calculated half-step back to open the conversation radius to include Clara. He holds up a hand to indicate Dave, as if to show that he is indeed fine. He stares right at his wife and the eyepatch and her tangled hair and doesn't bat an eye.
"Actually," Alex turns his attention to the capsule in his hand, holding it up. "If either one of you could inject the solution into my systems, I'd appreciate it."
no subject
"Look at me, I'm not dead." Y'know, since she sent Alex to check on him and all. He's not sure how he feels about that, but something more important has come up and Dave looks to Alex. At the request, he raises his hands in surrender and then looks back to Clara. "I'll let you field that one." He doesn't trust himself with it, but he supposes watching how to do it won't be such a bad idea.
no subject
It takes a minute for Alex's request to sink in. "Um, yeah," she says absently at first, until it really hits her. Obviously, Alex has been...well, eating isn't the proper term, since he looks much better now than he did by the same point in their last Arena. She had mostly assumed that he had been administering the solution on his own since it'd be really fucked up to make him have to rely on someone else to do it in a death match. She doesn't even know why she's all that surprised.
"Of course. Do you really want to do it here?" Not that she has any issues with Dave seeing, but the idea of doing this out in the open instead of in the breakroom she's been tucking herself away in just doesn't sit completely right with her.
no subject
Alex finds a stool to sit down on, the plastic creaking dangerously under his weight as he bends his head forward. The plate above his transmitter slides open, revealing a small socket, small like the kind that they used to stick iPods into DC connectors way back when. It gapes at Clara, black, going far to deep to show that Alex still has his normal neck.
He stares forward at Dave. "You should observe this. Assisting an officer in need is a good way to do your duty as a citizen."
Alex's eyes flicker, sliding down to where he looks almost asleep as he instructs his wife on the basics of 'how to feed your cyborg husband'.
"Unscrew the cap. Prime it by thumbing the green button," Alex recites it like he's accessing his manual (which he is). "Turn the circular end toward the socket at the back of my neck. Align. Once it's aligned, all you need to do is hit the green button again."
Alex closes his eyes. For a moment he almost looks human, relaxed as if he's only sleeping sitting up.
no subject
"Boy scout badges must be pretty interesting where you're from." He muses, but he complies with the suggestion and joins Alex near the stool to watch. He's no stranger to Robocop, but it's a strange thing to witness right in front of you. He's really not sure why he finds anything strange anymore, though.
"Neat." He observes, cocking his head to the side. When Alex's eyes fall shut, Dave casts a glance toward Clara. Though the outlines of his eyes can only be seen faintly through his shades, he makes the effort to turn toward her in the hopes of seeming supportive.
no subject
"Yeah," Clara says weakly, not really paying attention to Dave's comment as she preps the tube before following his instructions and letting it align. "Does that feel right?"
It's only after she finishes prepping it that she lets herself look at Dave and gives him a small, apologetic but still appreciative smile. She doesn't want to seem freaked out, but this is new and far more terrifying than she ever would have imagined it could be, even if it's painfully simple.
no subject
That point? It goes sailing over his head.
His eyes might be closed but he sees the HUD against the darkness, a notification blinking on to say the alignment is secure and it's primed to inject into the port. Something clicks into place, locking the tube so it won't wobble out. Even if Clara's hand were to slip now, the glucose solution would still be in place until Alex manually released the locks.
"Good. Press the button. When it turns red, it's empty and you can remove it."
With his eyes closed and his ability to hop onto CCTV cameras offline, he can't check up on Dave visually - he assumes that he's watching like he was told. After all, he's given Alex no reason to assume he's anything less than a good citizen.
no subject
He doesn't quite feel the squick that Clara does, he's seen strange things along similar lines and he has no emotional attachment to Alex that makes him sad to see such a vacant slot in his neck. If he'd known Clara was so out of her depth, he might have offered to do it himself, it just seems kind of. Well. Intimate. For lack of a better word.
For the apologetic nod he shrugs, then he starts to clue into the fact that she might not be comfortable right now. Despite himself and what he's used to, he'll place a comforting hand on her shoulder for a moment before leaning in like he's just getting an idea for what she's doing. "I wonder if you can get these in nacho flavour." That was probably in poor taste, but he needs to say something.
no subject
It's so weird, watching it just drain away into Alex. She knows that there's some reason Dr. Norton designed this system instead of letting Alex... She can't finish that train of thought. It's one she's started on for months and has never been able to complete because, fuck, it hurts her heart to think about. What if she had had more time? Could she have made sure that Alex would have come back slightly closer to normal? That he still would have been able to eat instead of needing something injected into him? Of course, it's something that hadn't occurred to her at the time. They had given her a rundown of Alex's injuries and how bleak everything was and that they could fix him.
She can't say she regrets accepting the offer because, for a while, she did have him back. But in moments like this she sometimes can't help but wonder if it was the right choice to make.
She laughs slightly at Dave's tasteless joke, if only because it gets her out of her head for a moment. "I doubt it." She almost asks Alex what it tastes like, if he can taste it, but decides against it.
Clara has the slightest hint of hesitation when the button turns red. She knows she can remove it. That she should remove it so Alex can go back to patrolling or whatever it is he's doing out there, but this is one of those rare, peaceful moments where she can almost pretend that things are something resembling normal instead of how things have turned out since he got back from whatever maintenance the Capitol did to him. She finally caves and begins removing the tube. "Anything else? Is that it?"