St. Peter's Asylum discussion

Jason's room is nothing spectacular. He spends more time in here than he does anywhere else, but he's never been fancy and as a result the place isn't quite furnished: there's a simple bed in one corner with red sheets, a nightstand next to it, and a chest-of-drawers up against the opposite wall. The walls are a pretty shade if maroon (easy on the eyes) and the floor made of cream-colored carpet. Really, all the attention has been laid with his chest-of-drawers. Amid the clothes in the place, expertly hidden, are at least two knives, a taser, and a single, ancient revolver, all of which were stolen off of police offers when he was caught the first time. Jason keeps these weapons exclusively secret, even forgets he has them himself sometimes. And that's the point: this room is purposefully unremarkable, you're not supposed to remember it.

At the door was a dark-haired girl dressed in an outfit of all one color; pink. At her side was another dark-haired figure, her assigned nurse for today. If the boy kept in solitary confinement would just look out to the small window on his door, he would be able to see those doe-like eyes peering at him with a look mixed of excitement and worry. The girl turned to look expectantly at the boy beside her, only now noticing that he was remarkably taller than her, even for her short stature. She probably hadn't noticed because he had been sitting in a chair during the whole time of their argument. "Can I go in now?" She asked hoepfully, if not impatiently.

Wes only grinned. "Get out of my sight," he said with a light chuckle, and pointed at the door.

He didn't have to tell that girl twice. In a flash, Cleo had opened the door and flung herself into the room without even pausing for a moment to brace herself to what might lie in this room, blinded as much by desire as she was.

And brace she really should have. What was inside the dorm was a bedraggled Jason (who looked up with what might have been actual fear in his eyes as they door opened--the nurses and guards had not been kind to him) all but shackled to the bed by his ankle. As it was, both hands were restrained with handcuffs, and he had been told to stay crouched in the back of the room or else, because he was having a visitor. When he saw it was Cleo, the murderer's eyes lit up, but only briefly. That spark was almost immediately replaced by a dull sheen of worry. What on earth could she be in here for?

When her eyes fell upon the bedraggled mess that was her friend, years clouded the pink-clad girl's vision. How could they have done such a thing to him? He looked more like a caged animal than a dangerous killer. Choking back some tears, Cleo wordlessly rushed at the bed and pounced on Jason, wrapping her arms around him tightly into a fierce hug.

Jason smiled as she ran at him, but it quickly turned into a grimace of pain as the hug made him fall back onto his cuffed hands. He hissed out a breath through gritted teeth when the metal dug into his wrists, but for the most part the pain was ignored. Because there was Cleo, safe, most certainly not dead, not afraid of him, but throwing herself at him in a hug. All his joy at the thoughts were wrapped up in a single, exhilarated word: "Cleo!"

"Jason!" Cleo called back, also unable to hide her enthusiasm to be able to hug the boy. She did lighten her hold, however when she noticed his grimace of pain that most likely was being caused by her. "Oh my God, you're okay!" She nearly squealed the sentence in her delight, a wide grin spreading across her face.

The pain in his wrists was instantly forgotten. "Of course I'm okay!" Jason smiled at her but threw a wary glance at the door. No thanks to those pricks, of course, he thought. "What matters is that you're not dead! Or scared of me. Or paranoid. Or crazy. You're okay!" He had no idea where all this excitement and happiness was coming from, but it certainly must have been stockpiling during his seventeen years because he was radiating good feelings at the moment.

Cleo laughed, wrapping her arms tightly around him again for a brief moment edited she was forced to pull back to face him. "Of course I'm not dead! You hit me in my arm, not my heart." She rolled her eyes, then grinned as if it was soenthing she could easily shove off, which was exactly what she seemed to have done. "Why would I be scared of you? It was all an accident, I understand that. It's not like you did it on purpose on purpose." She had been hoping for this moment for says now, reserving herself in a grouchy mood for almost a week just saving up all her joyous emotions for right joe and she wasn't about to waste it up with depressing talk. Twenty minutes was not enough time.

"Well, it's great that you're here and all, but my wrists are seriously starting to hurt." Jason grimaced again, though he tried to hide the pain behind a smile. "I think they're starting to bleed, actually," he mused, feeling the slightly uncomfortable sensation of liquid running down his hands. It was almost definitely blood, but he could ignore that for now and focus on the positive.

"Well then now we're even," she murmured with a smile before she slid off her friend's lap and inspected his wrists. Yes, that was without a punt blood running from his fresh cuts. "Oh, I'm so sorry. If te guards aren't looking, I'll try and let you out of them." She really didn't see the point of having the handcuffs on anyways, he was in a locked room for god's sake.

Jason laughed, though the sound was obviously strained. "Yeah. Good luck. I spent hours trying to get out of these damn things, and all I got for my trouble was a couple of good thumps on the head via nightstick and ribbons of skin hanging off my wrists." He shook his head ruefully, flexing his reddening hands with a wince. "It doesn't feel good."

"You just need the feminine touch," Cleo replied with a sly wink an pulled a bobby pin out of her hair. They had actually made her remove all scarves and jewelry or any other potential weapons before she had walked I to the room and yet here he say with handcuffs on. "They're just a bunch of oricks that need that pole that's shoved up their ass removed," she complained buttery as she started her work on the small keyholes on the handcuffs. "Why would they beat you? You haven't done anything wrong."

"Yeah, except for throw myself around the room repeatedly screaming profanity," Jason said with a little grin, turning his head to look at her. "Apparently, that's disorderly conduct too, and punishable by minor concussion. Don't think it helped that I was trying to escape the whole time, yelling at the top of my lungs about how much I was going to laugh when I killed them." He looked thoughtful a moment. "I'm surprised you didn't hear me and come running, actually."

"Believe me, I tried. I think I actually but one of the guards onetime when they tried to restrain me." Cleo blushed a light link across her cheeks, grin growin only impossibly wider. "It still would have helps more if you'd behaved. You know I would have gotten you out eventually."

"Do you know how hard it is to 'behave', as you put it, when you've been handcuffed with your legs bound together and tossed on your bed blindfolded, hardly able to move? It's fucking impossible." And yes, he had been that bad when they'd pulled him from the rooftop, all those restraints had indeed been necessary to preserve the safety of the guards who carried and watched him.

"I can't believe they actually blindfolded you. That was completely uncalled for. I mean, the cut's not even that bad." It had started to itch again, and Cleo was now subconsciously scratching around her still unchecked gauze and wrap. It had been about two days since it had been dressed. That made her smirk, to think that it hadn't taken long for a nurse to cave in because of her refusal to allow her own wounds to mend.

"They say I ruptured a couple arteries," Jason said as if to argue, looking down at his friend's bandaged arm. "And seriously Cleo, when's the last time those idiots changed that thing? It looks filthy." And it did. A slightly putrid smell was beginning to fill the room too, more noticeable because of their close proximity. Was it infected? Was Cleo getting sick because of what he'd done?

"Well um, actually, I haven't let them change it for the past two days. When it eventually stopped bleeding through the gauze, I wouldn't letter change it." Her expression changed to a sheepish one now, as if ashamed to admit what she had done just to be in here with her friend. Instead of meeting his eyes, she resumed to the handcuffs, feeling around them with the bobby pin, almost getting the lock.

Jason looked horrified. "Why the hell not?" he demanded. "I've been beating myself up over the possibility that you might die and here you are promoting your own death? What the hell?"

"Don't what the hell me, boy." She looked up from her work to press her finger to his lips. "I did it because I told them I wouldn't let them change it until they let me see you. Some nurse named Wes is changing it after I'm done visiting. And please, death is hardly going to be the results of this little infection. Don't worry."

He glared at her in slight irritation. "Take care of yourself," Jason growled; but the tone had an almost brotherly edge to it. "If I'm stuck in here bound hand and foot, at least let me sleep easier with the knowledge that you're keeping your arm out of trouble."

"It got me in here a lot faster, so don't complain." She slowly unwrapped the dressing away from the wound, inspecting it. It looked quite deep, and was red with the sickly yellow green color of puss covering over the word and looking like it needed to be leaked out. "You sleep easy, regardless. I'm a big girl, I can take care if myself."

"Okay, ew." Jason shook his head as the stink of infection filled the room. "Drain that thing, big girl. It smells like...well, like a festering wound."

She was already starting to wrap the wound, a disgusted look on her face. It I smell awful, but she was going to spend as much time in here as she could before she would be dragged out and her wound would be addressed to. "I will when the guards come in and tell me I need to get the hell out. Then you have to act like your cuffs are still on, or they'll never let me back in. How long are you in confinement, anyway?"

Jason shrugged as best he could with the handcuffs on. "Hell if I know," he said, sounding irritated. "I'm still a little...weird, they say. They literally used the word 'weird' to describe my mind right now." He gave a rueful smile. "What's the world coming to, when doctors describe the chaotic mess of thoughts in my head 'weird'?"

"They told me you would go berserk if I went in here. Obviously, I didn't care because the nurses don't know shit. Oh, yes!" She clapped her hands in victory. Holding the fancy bracelets across her lap to show off her accomplishment as well as hide it from the knowingly watchful guards, Cleo looked at Jason with a grin.

Jason beamed. "Oh, thank God." He brought his hands slowly out in front of him, inspecting the torn flesh and bloody scratches. "My hands are ruined now," he said in half-hearted complaint. "What have they done to my beautiful hands, Cleo? They're ruined! Ruined!"

"Give me your beautiful hands," she instructed, grabbing them anyways. "Don't let these get infected. It'll probably be harder to fight off this infection than mine do don't let it happen." She gently kissed each of his hands, near and far from the wounds and loose skin. It was bad, even for handcuffs. Cleo sucked in through her teeth as she inspected the wounds and inspected then some more before setting them back down. "They need some medical attention, too."

"Bullshit." Jason ran his fingers gingerly over one wrist and tried not to wince. "It's not that bad." And that, he thought, is also bullshit. They hurt like hell. He hoped Cleo wasn't good at reading faces, for as he stroked one of his ruined wrists pain filled his eyes. Touching them hurt, yes, and that meant it was probably bad--but he didn't want Cleo to know that. If he could fake it, he would.

"Bullshit," she repeated with a scowl. "You can't act all tough, buddy. I can see though to that big teddy bear underneath." She gave him a like in the side with a small smile. "I'll make Wes come in and give you dressing right after he dresses mine."

"That's going to do a whole lot of good when I get the cuffs back on," Jason said with a role of his eyes. "Don't bother. My 'big teddy bear' inside can deal with a few undone seams."

"You won't. I can probably bribe Wes to tell the guards no handcuffs because they're screwing with your health. So, there." Her tongue flicked out to make a brief appearance and then disappeared when a smile appeared to replace it. "It seems like its my job to make sure my 'big teddy bear' stays all nice and unmauled.

Jason smirked, looking amused. "And how are you supposed to bribe him, my big girl?"

"Well I convinced him to let me come here. He's got a lot if weak spots. Usually you just mention his little pet patient's name and he's there for you."

"And how's that gonna help me, exactly? What're you gonna say to him?"

"He seems to almost actually care about taking care of te patients here. Ig I tell him he's doing a sucky job by only taking care of one patient and leaving the others to survive for themselves." She shrugged, placing the bobby pin back into her hair, hide all the evidence they could. "I think he'll cave in quickly."

Jason shrugged, but he didn't look convinced. "If you say so," he said doubtfully. "But a nurse is a nurse, Cleo. They don't give a shit about you or your overall happiness until they stop getting paid. Remember that."

"This one sort of seems to. He doesn't act like the nurses, he acts more like a volenteer." She shrugged again, not exactly striking up an argument with the confined boy but going against his words at the same time.

Jason gave a thoughtful frown. "Huh. If you say so." He looked around, relishing his freedom but unsure of what to do with it. "Cleo," he said, eyes fixing on the door, "what do you think would happen if I attacked the person who came through that door to fetch you?"

The girl shook her head in exasperation and met Jason's eyes. "I don't think that would be such a great idea. They'll never let you out and they'll never let me come back." Still, she crouched down against Jason with her eyes fixating themselves on the door.

Jason sighed, moving to lay down docilely on the bed. "I want to so bad," he muttered. The stinging of his wrists only enforced that desire, and again he brought them around to look. As he did, he went on. "I have things. Makes me wonder why I just can't kill them, you know?" He turned his head to the left so that he looked at her, expression suggesting slight confusion.

"Oh, Jason," she groaned, and laid herself across his chest, burying her face into his shoulder. "Of course I know, but you have to at least try and restrain yourself. You can't just go kill everyone because they did soenthing bad to you. It sucks, but it is what it is."

"Do you not want blood on your dress or can I put my arm around your middle?" he teased, raising his eyebrows in slight surprise. "It's not that they did bad to me, either." But that's certainly part of it. "They've done bad to everybody here. It's like when Saddam Hussein was hung up to dry, that's what I think. You exceed your capacity for bad deeds and then somebody makes sure you never do anything like that ever again."

"Sure," she replied with a chuckle. "Blood goes well with pink." Her arms wrapped across his chest and neck and she picks up her head to look him in the eye. "But look at where it got you; away from me and everybody else and wanting to kill more people. That way, it will just be a repeating, endless circle with you killing people am then getting isolated for it."

Jason sighed again, but a slight smile twitched on his lips. "I hate it when you're all logical," he muttered, giving her a light whack on the cheek. "In fact, fuck logic. If it weren't for it there wouldn't be an idiot nurse standing outside the door and looking in the window, telling me to tell you to get out." He looked thoughtful a moment. "Or should I be saying 'fuck time'? That's what brought us to this particular point...hm..." He trailed off, thinking, and then frowned as Wes rapped on the door. "You'd better go," he said to Cleo, tone laced with regret. "Don't want them coming in and seeing you in my lap with the handcuffs off. Might think I'm strangling you somehow in some way." He nodded to his arm, wrapped around her middle, and rolled his eyes.

Cleo made a pouting face with her pink lips. Had it been twenty minutes already? Sighing, she crawled off of her friend and took a look at the elfish nurse standing by the door and looking at her expectantly. "I'll try and buy you some time." And she scurried to the door. "Hey nurse boy?" She opened the door and poked her head out. "Come check on Jason, would you? Hes go sown serious injuries going on in here."

Wes raised his eyebrows at her, suppressing a smile. Nurse boy? But he spoke, tone serious. "Yeah? Serious injuries? What kind, Cleo?"

"Just come in and look." After shooting the guards a cold glance, Cleo opened the door wider to let Wes in.