(no subject)

[shambler]

Who| R and Joan Watson, R and Shion, R and Maximus, R and Bert.
What| R searches for help for his eating problem. He also searches for help on his groaning. Throw in the awkwardness of post-Arena.
When| Before the aliens plot.
Where| About the Capitol. R has a surprisingly wide shuffling range given enough time.
Warnings| None yet.

Cuthbert

He hangs around the Training Center even after Maximus takes off for whatever it is Victors do when they’re not killing people. He probably should go back to the District Four suites. Go home. Get sprayed in the face with his Escort’s perfume. Listen to her setting up interviews for magazines where she’ll do most – try all – of the talking and he’ll sit there staring.

R drags his feet. Normally he’d be pretending he has a social life like everyone else out there. Go hang out with Howard, try to work up the nerve to ask Julie on a date. Sit there while Wyatt carves those shapes out of wood. Now he can’t. He thought it’d be easier going back to how things used to be, pre-Julie.

He’s groaning in frustration without even realizing it, standing there swaying before the archery range.

“Uggggh….!”

Yeah, he’s sulking. So?

Joan Watson

R gets nervous after the first day going cold turkey. No matter how much his Escort scolds him, he keeps his teeth clamped behind the muzzle until she gives up with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest while the plate of substitute flesh goes cold. It’s definitely not body-heart warm anymore. She leaves it on the bed. Hours tick by and R starts to think a little bite wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like he’s killing anyone this time…

He’s lucid enough to realize he needs to call in the cavalry. Maybe he’s supposed to do this all on his own but he chickens out – he wants to talk to someone, someone who he didn’t kill directly or indirectly. R catches himself before he starts automatically heading for Julie. No Julie today. The subject of eating is off the table with her. Someone else. Someone neutral who he feels like he can groan a thing or two with. R staggers away from Julie’s door with his head hanging down, trying to rack his mind for candidates and not walk into a wall while he’s thinking.

Joan Watson. The woman he chased up a boulder and she still had it in her to ask why. Question lady. Something about addicts. Counseling. R guesses he could use some counseling, whatever that is. Make it a two-pronged attack on the hunger from both Maximus and Joan.

R’s relieved when he finds her, bumping into the door frame as he groans and forgets all about creepy staring.

“You…free? Need…your…help…”

Shion

Day Two of his new diet.

R needs a distraction. Something to keep his mind off the daydreams he has. Sometimes he catches himself staring hungrily at someone – an Avox or an Escort in the elevator – and he pictures them on the floor, his teeth sunk into the meat of their arm. Other times he doesn’t even realizing he’s seeing red. That’s when he realizes he needs something to distract him.

It’s when he realizes he’s groaning again that he’s had enough. He’s tired of groaning and moaning and everything in between. If he’s going to try to fix his whole chewing up all his friends problem, he might as well try to do something about the speech thing.

R plants himself in front of Shion’s bedroom door and waits. He’s still staring at it creepily, fixed on some imaginary dirt spot, when it opens.

Maximus

Three days later and R’s really struggling to remember things like punctuality and battle plans. He can’t breathe, so he can’t “breathe-in, breathe-out and find his inner peace”. He remembers Maximus, the flash of his blade. Blood splashing red in the desert air. Maximus equals food and relief and remembering what it means to be something other than a walking set of teeth.

R staggers into the Training Center, bumping his way into a door-frame here, knocking over a weapons stand there as he sniffs nosily around. It smells of cold hard steel, the same cleanser that was in the closet. Underneath that all is human Life wafting along. Hopefully it’s Maximus. R’s already leery about his self-control with the hunger clawing away inside, telling him it’s a really good idea to stick some fingers through his muzzle and bite them off. The good news is he hasn’t figured out how to unclasp his muzzle.

Maybe the Escort’s onto his plan. She at least had the foresight to keep it on nice and tight – Eponine proofed it, even.

R waits for Maximus, looking like a miserable corpse of a boy until someone makes the mistake of getting grabbing distance close. At least he’s not drooling yet. Even hungry, R still wants to show Maximus he’s not like that dried out husk following him around the desert.

Comments

[shambler]

The hunger gnashes its teeth. It doesn't want to listen. R does. It's not a good middle ground here as he fights the urge to open his eyes and try that whole lunging thing again. If Joan sees all this perspective, then it'd be a lot easier to nip her frontal lobe and soak it up like a sponge.

"Mggh," R mutters into his muzzle. "Can't. Didn't...stop...last..."

R dissolves into wordless groaning, the same kind that had wandered around and around Joan Watson's boulder her first night in the Arena.

[formersurgeon]

"It's okay." She's keeping her voice quiet, but also sure. Firm. With a strength that he can hold onto. She can be his strength, even when he doubts his own. It's something she's done with other clients, something that was particularly vital in her work with Sherlock. "Just relax. You're not going to hurt me, no matter what happens. Just breathe. Think of Julie."

[shambler]

He's not sure what breathing has to do with anything. He can force air in and out of his lungs all he wants but it's all mechanical at this point. Any more relaxed and he'll really be dead. R sags into the chair anyway, thinking in the part of his mind that takes a backseat to the hunger that they should've cut off his nose or something.

"Uggggggh," R doesn't sound that relaxed. He struggles along, his mouth working fishlike behind the muzzle as he listens to Joan's voice. "Hurt....her. Hhhhghurt....you...?"

What if it's only a matter of time? What if she just got lucky with that boulder?

[formersurgeon]

She doesn't doubt at all that she got lucky with that boulder, and the next time she sees R in the arena, well. Unless she's somehow absolutely sure he's not going to attack, she's going to run. She's sure he understands.

"You haven't hurt me yet," she answers. "Did you hurt Julie?"

If he did, then that complicates things.

Going to leave an opening for Julie here!

[shambler]

R pauses, his silence stretching and pregnant with the answer he hesitates to groan. Yes. Almost did and then turned Howard and he - . R slumps deeper into his seat, unable to come up anything to groan, and thinks it'd be easier to be thrashing about instead of thinking of the cave.

The door opens then. Perfect timing on Julie's part.

[misscabernet]

There are a plethora of reasons this is probably a terrible idea. Julie's doing a great job of ignoring them, though it takes her a hell of a lot longer to gather herself and actually get moving to the training center than it should. It's an elevator ride away and it takes hours.

Hope wars with disbelief. It's a constant battle.

The scene she walks in on is about what she expected. It's better than, like, a corpse tied to a little post. Like a dog. Didn't people used to tie dogs like that? Keep them from snapping off the mailman's legs?

Julie's eyes catch on the zombie, secure in a chair, but drift away awkwardly. She wants to make a joke. Guess I missed some of the fun bondage, huh? But seeing him like this, the humor dies in her. Teaching a zombie to stop being cannibal doesn't seem so stupid or funny, staring her in the face.

"Hey," she greets, a little deflated herself. The door closes behind her as she moves towards the woman, holding out a hand. "You must be Joan, right? Julie." She makes a vague gesture. "How's, uh... this going?"

[formersurgeon]

"Julie...yes, hi." Joan accepts her hand and shakes it, even though she looks a little taken aback. She didn't expect company, and certainly not the woman that R cares for.

"We were just talking about you."

[shambler]

R's face is frozen in shock as Julie waltzes in. For a stunned second he stares, forgetting he invited her here. Then it sinks in. Support. She's here as a friend(?), giving support to the zombie who more or less got her killed twice in the Arena. R wilts quietly in the chair, suddenly having second thoughts. The rope doesn't seem tight enough. He still has wriggle room. What if he gets free? The hunger strains toward Joan as she speaks, bouncing from Joan to Julie and back again. His fingers twitch and tighten around the armrests as he leans forward.

(He's started drooling behind the muzzle again. Really, R, really?)

A few black drops ooze out and down onto his shirt as he watches the conversation between the two humans. Just talking about Julie, she says. Is that helping? Thanks, Joan, he groans in his head.

"Try...ing," R says from the chair. He sounds miserable but coherent so far. "Still...feel...it."

[misscabernet]

Yeah, she's pretty sure she could've figured that out. The kind of silence and guilty looks that makes her know she's been talked about. Like when she'd walked in on Grigio and Perry, knowing something was going on. The scheduling of the rounds, making sure Perry was always front and center. Always leading, even if Julie knew the route better.

"Sorry," she says automatically, catching Joan's look. "He asked if I'd come. Support."

Yeah, like she's real supportive. Guess it's enough she even showed up. She steps a little closer to him, just to get a look at him. He definitely sounds miserable. Part of the reason Julie likes him so much is everything's pretty clear on his face.

Mostly. He still has a little dead slack-jaw going on. Drool. Julie swallows her disgust.

"You look like a lion on the verge of pouncing." Not quite as bad as the Cornucopia, but she knows what the sting of hunger feels like when it snaps at your feet. She looks back at Joan with real curiousity. Where did R meet her? In the Arena? "Is there any way for me to help?"

[formersurgeon]

"Thank you for coming. Support is an important part of any process like this."

As far as Joan can tell, Julie's appearance hasn't calmed R at all, which is not a great sign, but that doesn't mean she can't be a help to him.

"There are a couple things you can do, actually. First, you know him better than I do, obviously. Could you tell me things that he might like? That might catch and hold his attention?"

She glances at R with an apologetic look.

"I'd ask you directly, but this way is faster. She also might think of something you might not."

typo

[shambler]

R shrugs as best he can while tied to a chair. Fair enough. It really is faster, as much as he longs to bleed words the way these two do. He appreciates Joan explaining her approach all the same. It's little things like that which make him feel slightly closer to human.

He spots Julie staring at him, her eyes taking in the whole rotting picture. Her eyes shift down to his shirt. It's then he realizes one, he's been drooling on himself and two, he can't even wipe it off too little too late. Not with the way his hands are trapped. Now that he's aware she's looking, he realizes with horror his corpse seems to be jump-starting its drool production. For all he knows, the hunger's acting like he's already got his teeth into the closest human. R clamps his mouth shut, glad the muzzle's hiding some of it at least.

R only nods at Julie's remark, watching as she comes closer. He can't help it: where she goes, he follows, his eyes tracking her.

Let them talk. He's busy trying to swallow back the black drool, forcing it down.

[misscabernet]

Julie's never been to a counselor herself, but. Um. Wow. Joan pretty much talks like how she'd expect one to. It's kind of soothing, actually. And really straight to the point.

Though she's gotta admit, now she's curious about what, exactly, R was saying about her. She's not sure what Joan thinks their relationship is, but it sounds surprisingly close to bosom buddies. How is she supposed to explain she hasn't actually known him that long? (And that most of that time was spent trying to, you know, run away from him?)

Whatever. She has to try. Who knows? This might actually work. Ignoring the hunger apparently isn't going to anymore.

Something to hold his attention. Despite her wanting to insist she doesn't know him that well, it doesn't take much more than a second for her to come up with something. "He likes music. I told him he was a purist." She glances at him, and there's amusement despite the whole leaking-zombie thing going on here. It's not the worst she's seen. "He collected a shitload of vinyls. I don't even know where he found them all."

[formersurgeon]

She blinks at that, surprised and amused. "Wow. You're right, that's quite a hobby for the walking undead. Not to mention, a zombie apocalypse I can believe. But still having vinyls around? A little far fetched."

She hopes her attempt at wry humor here doesn't just completely fall flat. She turns back to R.

"Do you have a favorite song?"

[shambler]

R remembers that. He's surprised to realize he does, that it's probably weeks later since that afternoon in the 747 with Julie flicking through his album collection one by one and he still, miraculously, remembers. It hasn't faded away into the murk like everything else, hasn't blurred together like hunts and zombie friends he left behind. Wow. His eyes flicker over to hers, surprised, and he sees something sparkling in her eyes. It's not as open as that night on the boat. At the same time, Julie's still here.

(Don't ask him where he got some of the vinyls. Seriously - don't ask. They're not one of R's fonder memories).

"I..." R's horrified when he opens his mouth and out dribbles more of the black drool he'd been trying to hold back. He feels his cheeks wishing they could flush again. "Embarrassed" doesn't begin to cover it. "Str...Strangers...in...Night...?"

He has a big weakness for Sinatra, okay? R's so distracted trying to remember things like his favorite songs and how to string words together in a way that doesn't resemble croaking "brains" that he almost forgets how hungry he is.

[misscabernet]

Joan's surprise actually makes her laugh. Okay, yeah. It's weird as hell. It just seems like part of the whole zombie-anomaly thing. She just shrugs at the diagnosis: far-fetched.

Yeah, it is. Julie also has no idea how far he's shuffled in the name of good music.

The question is one Julie's thought of, but never asked. (Guess they're all gonna ignore the drool? It's like the elephant in the room here. And she's still thinking of him vomiting and dying right in her arms. Permanent death. Not-so permanent.)

She raises her brows with a laugh. It's not that big a deal, just -- god, what a romantic.

"Maybe he can start humming Sinatra when it gets bad. Like a... a Pavlov thing, right?"

Okay, so she's not a psychologist. Her expertise is picking out who's gonna go nuts if one of the barriers falls, not the real terminology.

[formersurgeon]

Joan used to be a doctor, and then worked with addicts, so bodily fluids don't really faze her in general. This...is outside the norm, yes, and as such does creep her out a little. Not enough to get anything more than a bit of an internal "eww," though.

The talk of music does at least seem to affect R in a positive way.

"I think that's a good idea," she says to Julie. Then, to R: "Can you hum?"

[shambler]

R gives a little jerk of surprise at Julie's laugh: it's unexpected, rippling out of her. The good news is they're getting along, discussing battle strategies here. The downside is R wishes it didn't have to be about him. This shouldn't have to be necessary.

"Haven't...tried," R admits. That time with Howard doesn't really count because he wasn't humming or even singing - he was just reciting lyrics he's heard countless times, enough that it's a miracle he hasn't burned through the vinyl. Or the record player. No idea where he'd get another one if he did. "Don't...think can..."

His vocal chords are a mess, throat probably ruined since he's been shoveling all kinds of stuff down there since he died. R's torn between the hunger and embarrassment. The hunger keeps switching between Julie and Joan, thinking it'd like to take a bite out of an arm or go for a thigh. Wondering almost jealously what Howard saw when he ate Julie in that cave...

R gulps nervously behind the muzzle, forgetting about drooling and Sinatra. He doesn't realize at first that he's dissolved into groaning wordlessly.

[misscabernet]

Whoa. Really? It sounded like a dumb idea in her head, but. Okay, now she really likes Joan. It's weird to see someone so... committed to helping. Most people wouldn't bother, right? He'd just be a monster to them.

(Though she's starting to wonder if people aren't like that. They don't see zombie and think monster. Grigio trained people to think like that. But -- there also isn't a running apocalypse going here. There's just the one. Two, if he bites someone.)

Man. She's pretty sure they're losing him here. He doesn't even try. Pretty sure she recognizes that groaning, and it's not the kind he makes when they're having a conversation.

She moves in front of him, giving him the staredown. "Hey. Quit that." Joan's efforts have her all in. She didn't think this was a thing even worth trying. Now she's all on the Recovery Train.

At least he picked a song she knows. She'd listened to it on her own, but R had played it for her, too. The memory's fresh in her squishy human brain, the one R looks like he's contemplating about. (She's pretty proud about reading zombie faces now.) Julie clears her throat, and sings low. "Two lonely people, we were strangers in the night..." Did she mention she wasn't a singer? Whatever. "Up to the moment...?" Anything? Come on, she's not making an ass out of herself for nothing here.

[formersurgeon]

Joan watches Julie as she goes all in and takes the reins. She's reminded of Liam, and the memory is bittersweet. He was her first personal engagement with addiction, the first time she saw it closeup in all of its ugliness and heartbreak. What they're working with here is not an addiction, of course, even though it shares some of the aspects and, Joan hopes, some of the methods for combating the compulsion. But that devotion is the same. That willingness to engage when plenty of other people would have written off, or worse.

Of course, in the end Liam had rejected her help, rejected recovery, and chosen the drugs.

Still. If it's possible for R to choose to stay "clean," Julie's engagement will help him through it. He's lucky to have her.

[shambler]

It's only when Julie slides in front of his field of vision that he realizes what he's doing, his groan dying in his throat. He doesn't even think twice about it: she says quit, he quits. His eyes lock onto her, feeling Joan as this presence at the side, watching, studying the two of them.

Whatever he's expected, it isn't Julie trying to sing. R starts in surprise, his gray eyes fixed on her face as she croons a few strains of Strangers In the Night. She's not a pro, but she's way better than any zombie could ever hope to be. Something stirs in R's memory then, batting aside the hunger trying to push back. Forest. A little girl - she couldn't have been more than ten, twelve - singing, unaware he's there with a new craving he can't put words to. Watching her from the safety of the branches, feeling...something. The memory fades away, leaving R staring at Julie with a strange look dawning on his face.

Weird. He can count the number of times memories have come back, and he's Dead - he sucks at counting.

"Stran....gers..." R repeats after Julie. "You...like to...sing...?"

His eyes slide over to Joan. She's letting Julie do her thing, sizing up its effects. Are they doing this counseling thing right? Does she believe a zombie can change? He's probably the first one that's come her way, but he can't be the worst guy with...problems she's run into. R almost finds that comforting, weirdly enough.

[misscabernet]

Julie's pretty sure the fact that Joan doesn't laugh or try to cut her off is a sign either she's not as bad as she thinks or maybe this might work. Or she's wondering why she let Julie into the room.

It's easy for her to get into it. Music is just -- that. Everything. It's hope mixed with color and humanity. It's one of the things she clings the hardest to now that everything's gone. The fact that R had that vinyl collection... that was what really finally got her. The snowglobes and the vinyl.

She grins. The question makes her filter her fingers through now frizzled hair, pulling at the ends. "Well. Yeah. Who doesn't? That's the heart of it."

Julie pulls at the collar of his shirt, wiping the black drool away. Seems kind of fucked up to tie his hands down and then leave that there. After, she steps back, her gaze going to Joan too. "You think it might work?"

[formersurgeon]

Joan smiles at their connection, at the look on R's face, and the tenderness with which Julie wipes the drool away. When the woman steps back, she turns that smile to her.

"I do. It clearly helped. I think we all saw that. I think we need to find out if that's something he can do for himself, or if he needs you with him." She turns to R. "What was that like for you."

[shambler]

R goes still as she leans in to clean up the drool he wishes would sizzle away on its own. To his surprise, she masks her disgust so well he could almost believe it wasn't there. She's close enough that he feels the urge to bite pulling at his mouth. R clamps down on it, his back teeth grinding, his whole body rigid even for a zombie. Julie finally steps back as he sags into his restraints.

"That...was...."

R struggles to think about Joan's question, really, really give it some serious thought (plus stop groaning while he's concentrating).

"Thought...fami..liar," R admits. "Felt...nice. Still...hungry..."

It didn't fully drive away the hunger, though, and as much as he hates to rain on the parade, he wants to be truthful, too. R wishes it could've gone away entirely but this isn't a perfect world. He is what he is.

[misscabernet]

Did they? Okay, well. She admits there might've been a reaction there. She's not tooting her own horn or anything yet.

And R reminds her why. This is just step one. Getting any sort of reaction -- and doctor-approved -- is a lot more than she ever expected. Mostly she expected R on a leash and snapping at both of them in a hungry rage.

Drool's not so bad in comparison.

"Familiar?" She watches him, the curiousity evident. She might like singing, but she doesn't exactly make it a habit. Especially for undead audiences. Maybe someone else? They still don't know how long R's been dead. Maybe he's caught some ex-lounge singers by surprise and eaten their vocal cords. "It's still a start." Since he didn't actually try to snap at her hand, she gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Safer than anything. "I can bust out some Costello next."

[formersurgeon]

Costello. Joan smiles faintly at that.

"What we're doing here won't make the hunger go away, exactly. It will just make it easier to bear. Hopefully until it goes away on its own."

They're still not sure that will happen, though.