(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

[tis_allgood]

Watching R moan and rock was not making it easier to do what needed to be done. But deep down Cuthbert still believed that he was dealing with a sweet and somewhat misunderstood man. It was the terrifying and potentially deadly outside that he was worried about at the moment.

Normally he would have approached R openly and put an arm around him but today he stays an arm's length away.

"Arre. I wish to talk, if you would be amenable to it." He may be a bit wiser on what R actually is, but he's still pronouncing his name like it's more complicated than it is.

[formersurgeon]

Joan is doing research on the Capitol and its history when R shows up at her door. She looks up at him and raises her eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Hey. Yeah, absolutely. Come on it."

[shambler]

Turning at the voice, R would've winced if he had enough working facial muscles for it. He remembers Bert at the Cornucopia, grabbing for him and then - and then R isn't sure. Everything had blurred from sharp photo-sharp moments to red smears. He doesn't think he'd bitten Bert or turned him. People who had that happen didn't talk to him like that. R stares at Bert for a long moment.

"What...about?" R's groan sounds apprehensive, guilty already.

The zombie wheels slowly away from the table he'd been staring at to fully face Bert. The human stands out of grabbing distance, naturally.

[shambler]

R stumbles his way inside, glancing around with that look of slow surprise that might be interest despite himself. He hasn't made it a habit to go to the other District suites aside from Howard and Julie, really, and each one looks different. R's gray eyes eventually drift over to Joan as he joins her at the table.

"Coun...ciling. Still...do...it?" R asks. With his word limit, he can't afford to beat around the bush. Besides, knowing Joan from that conversation he had, he doesn't think she cares for that sort of thing either.

D'oh, that "it" should have been an "in" - teach me to not read over my posts...

[formersurgeon]

It takes a moment for her to put those syllables together, longer than usual, but she is surprised to see him, and is also switching gears, so it's probably forgivable. Once she does, though, she shifts forward a bit in her chair.

"Not professionally," she answers. "But that doesn't mean I've stopped. The circumstances are just different." Her voice softens. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

[shambler]

R casts about for something to do with his corpse. Naturally it's easier to talk if he's not busy keeping his body upright, worrying about his posture in the back of his mind and trying not to sway too much. With a huff of dry, stale air pushing itself out of his lungs, he collapses into the seat across from Joan.

"Eating...problem. Addict?" That's probably not really covering it. Where he comes from everyone who dies becomes a maneater whether they want to or not. R hopes Joan's as good as he believes she is.

[formersurgeon]

Eating problem. She frowns. Okay, he eats people. When he's hungry, he can't stop himself from attacking every living person that crosses his path.

"It...certainly is a compulsion. And a strong one." She studies his face. His dead flesh makes expressions hard to read, so she looks closely. "You're trying to keep yourself from attacking people when you're hungry?"

[shambler]

He jerks his head in a nod. Yes! Yes, that's exactly what he meant! That's what he likes about Joan, she helps him finish his sentences but in a way that doesn't drive home he's got a major groaning issue. She does it...discreetly. Most of the time he doesn't notice when she does it.

"Want...to...change," he adds, looking at Joan with an openly hopeful expression plastered on his face as he sways forward.

[formersurgeon]

Those are words that always get to Joan. She has a soft spot for people who want to change, who are trying to be better. She was an addiction counselor, she knows how hard that change can be, knows it's a long road that is fraught with obstacles and setbacks. But one of the reasons she kept going as long as she did was because of situations just like this. He wants to change. Sincerely wants to be better.

"I'll do what I can to help you. Have you tried to do this sort of thing before?"

She needs to know what, if anything he's tried before, what has seemed to help and what hasn't.

[savedbyasong]

Shion was just on his way out when he opened his door to a familiar looking zombie. Familiar as in the only zombie Shion actually knew. A feeling of guilt hit him because seeing R reminded him of what Wesker had said, and he had no idea how he was going to tell R, drop that particular bombshell on him as well as everything else.

"Hello..." He blinked at him. His hair was lurid green today but hopefully R was beginning to get the hang of recognising Shion by more than hair colour. "Are you alright R?" He peered at him worriedly.

[shambler]

"Wanted to but..." R shrugs. Couldn't. The longest he thinks he resisted was a few days but with M and the other zombies groaning, it was hard to say no and stick to his guns. Easier to go with the crowd. It's always easier. "Trying...diet. But...hard."

R wheezes, trying to think of more specifics. He sits there for a few long seconds working out which words he can squeeze out past his muzzle. At least he feels comfortable that Joan won't rush him. She's looking at him like he imagines she'd look at her human patients. R likes that.

"Ad-vice?"

[shambler]

R stared down at Shion, trying to get over the plastic-lawn green hair he had today. Good thing he'd gotten to know the human a little better - it wasn't just trying to pick him up from sight anymore because the constantly changing hair would've made it tricky. (He liked it better than the bone white that he normally had, personally).

"Not...good," R mumbled. He tried to perk up. Stop thinking about how good you know he tastes. Focus on what he came here for. "Help me...speak?"

There, that was right there in the open. Shion wasn't the most talkative human he'd ever run into, but he could speak just fine and R hoped to leech that ability from him without, you know, eating his brain.

[formersurgeon]

"A lot of what works for drug cravings is being able to endure the craving, knowing it will subside. Have you ever had that experience? Being able to wait out the hunger?"

[shambler]

R sits there with his hands in his lap, looking like a Dead school boy in front of the principle.

"Gets...worse," R says. It doesn't go away, he'd add, except...it did. He had gone at least three days with Julie without thinking constantly about feeding. That was before the Arena, though. "Distracted...but...not same...here."

[formersurgeon]

She frowns slightly and tilts her head. "What do you mean, distracted?" She has some idea of what it might mean, but she doesn't want to assume.

[shambler]

R shrugs. "Julie. Wanted...to protect."

Basically somehow he'd forgotten about eating. R still hasn't figured out that happened. It didn't save Julie back at the Cornucopia, R hunching his shoulders and staring hesitantly at Joan.

"Can't...promise. Came...to you." For some reason the zombie had it in his head that Joan could get better results with her being a professional.

[formersurgeon]

"I'm glad you did."

Okay, so there was at least something that helped him control his hunger. That's good to know.

"I think we might want to start by testing to see if the hunger can be waited out. That means we'll have to restrain you, so you won't hurt me if you can't keep yourself from attacking. Is that something you'd be okay with?"

[savedbyasong]

Shion blinked sadly at him when R told him he wasn't doing good and he stepped closer to take his hand and squeeze it reassuringly. He smiled at the question and nodded, "Of course I will!" R had helped him speak when he had been a zombie, Shion figured he could repay the favour.

"Do you want to come in?"

[shambler]

R twitched back a bare-minimum squeeze, as if he was afraid if he did it any harder, he'd drag Shion close enough to bite muzzle or no muzzle. Jerking his head in an awkward nod, R started pushing his way into the room.

"Thank...you," R said, surprised he managed to remember politeness when the hunger kept rattling away at the bars. "How...to start?"

[savedbyasong]

Shion followed him in and thought about it for a moment. He wasn't used to improvising speech lessons for zombies on a moments notice but he could try. R didn't seem to have too many problems with basic words, it was more stringing them into a sentence. Shion tried to remember how it had felt; not that he liked remembering it, it made him want to run far away, to throw up, he could taste blood in his mouth.

Deep breaths Shion. "I think you need to remember where all the words go, and need to practice a lot... so we could try having a conversation and you have to answer with," he thought for a moment, "At least four words each time!"

[gluteus]

It wasn't hard to find the boy. Though most corpses were silent as the grave, this one blundered and banged and groaned and was generally not very spacially aware.

"I hope you are good and hungry," Maximus said as he walked into the room. He had gotten his stylists to make him a very particular type of armour - it resembled something of a shark suit, all chain mail, even around his fingers, and padded underneath. He locked the door as he came in.

[shambler]

"If...strong...rope," R didn't sound like the most confident corpse out there, frowning behind the muzzle at Joan. "What...then?"

How would this be different with Maximus? R didn't pin Joan as some fighter willing to decapitate a few people for a zombie, so he was getting a little worried. He might have a higher chance of hurting Joan. Then again, she'd outsmarted him last time, so maybe not.

[formersurgeon]

"Then we wait it out. See if it subsides with time. While we're doing that, I can try some things. Distractions, relaxation techniques, things like that."

She's not sure the techniques will work like they do on addiction, particularly if his hunger isn't something that he could sit down with a sponsor and wait out. But she's willing to try.

[shambler]

R winced, delayed by a few seconds. His face felt like either half the time it was sagging with the flesh decaying right off or going stiff. Fun combination. Four words every time? At first that didn't sound that bad. He regularly did four words these days - all that practice with the Living seemed like it helped. But then it sank in Shion hadn't said anything about syllables and that was where he got hung up. Over a certain amount and suddenly R stumbled back into groans and staring.

"Let's...try," R said, unsure but wanting to give it a shot anyway. He flopped down on the edge of Shion's bed, slouching forward and hoping he could handle this. "You...start and I'll...go."

[shambler]

"Hungry," R moaned, putting all his weight into those two syllables.

He was here for a reason, wasn't he? R thought he was here for a reason that wasn't just get something in him, but exactly why washed in and out, written in mud. The light glinting off Maximus drew his eye, R gaping at it behind the muzzle as he worked out why it was good he was hungry. Something important. Something about...about...

R almost lost it, grabbing onto it before he started lurching at Maximus. Training. Not just eating. Had he promised? ...And did Maximus just lock the door behind him?

He'd shuffled closer to the man without realizing it, hovering just out of biting distance with the muzzle gleaming underneath the lights.

"Think...I'm...not good," R managed to get out.