[Viktor tells Palamedes, broadly, to chill out for a few days, after All That Shit goes down. And Palamedes, to his credit, agrees: he should keep to himself for a little while, or at least keep to Viktor and the Sanctuary, if nothing else than to be sure nothing in the sea corrupted him past normal levels. He enjoys Several Days Off, truly he does, and then the fact that he works at a literal hospital creeps up on his conscience and he insists: he must go to the Lumenarium, if only to be sure nothing has gone wrong in his absence.
The little flock of ministers is lost without him, after all. He arrives not to disaster, but to the kind of wary discomfort that he'd expected from the boardwalk, from what he's heard— except every one of his little flock tells him, no, it's nothing, it's just... the new guy.
Palamedes can't deny being curious and a little excited about a new Sleeper colleague, and so he makes a point to seek out this New Guy as soon as he's able. He expects someone maybe a little serious? Maybe a little intense? Not someone, ah, passed out in the breakroom with a few empty vials on the floor nearby, along with... is that a pair of gloves dug out of the biohazard disposal? Good god.
Palamedes makes his approach. He stoops to pick up a vial. He raises an eyebrow at it, then down at the illustrious new guy, and nudges him in the kidney with his bony knee. Wake up, sunshine.]
[dreams are, in daniil's opinion, a dragging affair. the curse of a light sleeper maybe, that the quality of said dreams remain more vividly in mind as he wakes, often unsettled.
tonight a beak looms and tuts, says you can't teach the old dog new tricks, but the old ones have their charm, don't they? it says i really wasn't scripted for a new set here, i don't know the new rules any better. don't look at me so, some beats never change, do they?
daniil says something like fuck off, just as a weight lands somewhere at his abdomen and-]
Hngh. [is the first thing he says to pal. the second thing he does more than says is a half-awake grappling for something, which happens to be a gun, which he points at pal. the third is a slow blink before the gun is lowered.
finger still on the trigger though. thank gods for morphine, his skin doesn't feel like screaming quite as much.] What is it? Who are you?
[Who let this man into a hospital with a gun? Palamedes' raised eyebrow arches even higher, just looking at the thing, with all the unearned confidence of a guy who has never been shot and still doesn't know all that much about guns. He's got the concept down? Luckily, his natural resting bitch face covers for his gun-based ignorance in this matter.
But he knows guns aren't supposed to be in a hospital, that one's easy. This week has been far too long to deal with this, even counting his very magical days off, augh—]
The Warden. This is my wing, [Mostly true in spirit if not officially--] and you're using up my supplies.
The staff told me you came here to work; [he gestures towards the door, for Staff, and then at Daniil's personal mess, for this:] what are you doing?
[the gun does get tucked away finally, though the animal part of daniil's brain twitches to let go. he runs a hand over his face, just a moment's respite before squinting at the actual beanpole of a creature before him.]
Ah, like a prison. You are the one they must cluck about. This or that, Palamedes won't stand for it. That is you? Palamedes?
[he draws himself up, as much as he would dearly love to roll over and attempt a few more hours. the fact he is still looking up at palamedes is annoying, if not unexpected. scarecrow with glasses. despite it he's glad there's someone who seems to have their head on right.
well, aside from one tiny complaint]
I did work, and have been working, so I will hear no complaints of my work ethic, sir. I was hardly the one off and about during a severe storm and irritated mob.
[Score one for not being shot at, good work Palamedes for this victory. He crosses his arms and waits for Daniil to get up, a thing he should not have to do, because morphine naps are not what this room is for, good god.]
That's me. I'm in the process of not standing for it, if you were curious.
[But aw, his wee flock, they did good to at least mutter their complaints. He'll teach them to show a little spine yet. And— what is this, a criticism of his well-earned days off? Yes, and?? Shall he unring that bell? He scoffs and holds up the empty vial, waving it significantly in front of Daniil's face, pointedly.]
I'm complaining about this. This is for patients, not staff. Helping yourself to the medicine isn't your reward for doing a shift or two.
[He gestures for Daniil to take the empty vial back; this is his trash, after all. Jerk.]
If you want to check yourself in as a patient, use the proper channels.
[the irritating thing is he can't fault palamedes for this, even if he snatches the vial, shoulders tensing. it looks... hm, unfortunate. like he's some wayward and addicted soul sleeping off a bender.
which he is not, thank you dr beanpole. he tucks the bottle away too (waste not want not) and attempts for civil instead of glowering. it is a moderate success.]
Reward- it was a medical necessity that I will not clog our already bloated system with the paperwork of just to be prodded at by your little- by our colleagues.
[an exhale from his nose. ok. trying again.] Fine, if this is a matter of payment then what do you wish to trade to make up the deficit? I understand there is no currency in this wretched place.
Oh, he doesn't believe in record-keeping! [Please, where is the audience groaning to really underline Palamedes' fussy despair in this moment. He can only throw his hands up and then take to rubbing his temples, like, he won't do paperwork... about using up medical supplies either, probably... That's inventory! Fuck!!]
I shouldn't need to tell you why letting our supplies slip through the cracks unmonitored is a bad idea. Just because you're frustrated with paperwork— what were you thinking, really?
[Because he doesn't buy "already bloated system" as, like, a valid defense, that's stupid. The system, needed overhaul and prodding colleagues or no, does not excuse stealing supplies from a hospital!! He presses his fingers harder into his temples for a long moment before he actually loses his temper, eyes closed, before he can handle trying to explain moral concepts like this again.
Okay. Alright. He's good.]
I want you to fill out your fucking paperwork— [no. nope. temper. take two,] We're running a place of healing here, not a hobby shop. Don't pay me; fill out the paperwork for use of inventory and then replace what you took.
Of course I marked it off for inventory you- [temper 2.0 as well, born mostly from again, it's infuriating how right this man is. did he really let that god damned hellhole of a town drag him down this far-
his jaw works, irritated that any answer he can give anywhere close to the truth is too painfully pathetic to offer. things like this is one of the only places that felt even remotely safe to sleep in, thank you, or that he cannot go bartering with his blood for morphine when he isn't sure his wretched, infected blood might not be dangerous on more levels than he'd care to picture. who knows what these heathens did with the stuff anyway, and what else is he supposed to do when he desperately needs the rest pain will not allow?
ugh. there is an obvious moment of struggling not to snap and say more, leave it a bitter back and forth. 'hobby shop' nearly sends him down that spiral but he musters enough composure to return merely a hard stare.] I cannot replace it, so I would hope that payment in the form of my service will suffice. One I can get back to now, if you would be so kind, dear colleague.
[Too bad for that thick irony, that Palamedes would offer far more sympathy if Daniil just voiced any of his problems or legitimate medical needs, but then he'd be all empathetic and it would be infuriating in the other direction. So instead, he can only stand there and continue frowning, waiting for Daniil to come up with something. Must he go check the inventory records? Or worse, repeat himself and say that the point is using the supplies!!
So, he will wait out this struggle. See, the thing is, he would like some more morphine to put on some shelves, on principle. Maybe everyone needs to have a minister meeting about consequences for actions, he'll think about it.]
What work have you been doing? You were tattled on for plenty of things; I've heard you refused to complete a single training shift.
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heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made great point (daniil)
The little flock of ministers is lost without him, after all. He arrives not to disaster, but to the kind of wary discomfort that he'd expected from the boardwalk, from what he's heard— except every one of his little flock tells him, no, it's nothing, it's just... the new guy.
Palamedes can't deny being curious and a little excited about a new Sleeper colleague, and so he makes a point to seek out this New Guy as soon as he's able. He expects someone maybe a little serious? Maybe a little intense? Not someone, ah, passed out in the breakroom with a few empty vials on the floor nearby, along with... is that a pair of gloves dug out of the biohazard disposal? Good god.
Palamedes makes his approach. He stoops to pick up a vial. He raises an eyebrow at it, then down at the illustrious new guy, and nudges him in the kidney with his bony knee. Wake up, sunshine.]
This is a gross misuse of resources.
no subject
tonight a beak looms and tuts, says you can't teach the old dog new tricks, but the old ones have their charm, don't they? it says i really wasn't scripted for a new set here, i don't know the new rules any better. don't look at me so, some beats never change, do they?
daniil says something like fuck off, just as a weight lands somewhere at his abdomen and-]
Hngh. [is the first thing he says to pal. the second thing he does more than says is a half-awake grappling for something, which happens to be a gun, which he points at pal. the third is a slow blink before the gun is lowered.
finger still on the trigger though. thank gods for morphine, his skin doesn't feel like screaming quite as much.] What is it? Who are you?
no subject
But he knows guns aren't supposed to be in a hospital, that one's easy. This week has been far too long to deal with this, even counting his very magical days off, augh—]
The Warden. This is my wing, [Mostly true in spirit if not officially--] and you're using up my supplies.
The staff told me you came here to work; [he gestures towards the door, for Staff, and then at Daniil's personal mess, for this:] what are you doing?
no subject
Ah, like a prison. You are the one they must cluck about. This or that, Palamedes won't stand for it. That is you? Palamedes?
[he draws himself up, as much as he would dearly love to roll over and attempt a few more hours. the fact he is still looking up at palamedes is annoying, if not unexpected. scarecrow with glasses. despite it he's glad there's someone who seems to have their head on right.
well, aside from one tiny complaint]
I did work, and have been working, so I will hear no complaints of my work ethic, sir. I was hardly the one off and about during a severe storm and irritated mob.
no subject
That's me. I'm in the process of not standing for it, if you were curious.
[But aw, his wee flock, they did good to at least mutter their complaints. He'll teach them to show a little spine yet. And— what is this, a criticism of his well-earned days off? Yes, and?? Shall he unring that bell? He scoffs and holds up the empty vial, waving it significantly in front of Daniil's face, pointedly.]
I'm complaining about this. This is for patients, not staff. Helping yourself to the medicine isn't your reward for doing a shift or two.
[He gestures for Daniil to take the empty vial back; this is his trash, after all. Jerk.]
If you want to check yourself in as a patient, use the proper channels.
no subject
which he is not, thank you dr beanpole. he tucks the bottle away too (waste not want not) and attempts for civil instead of glowering. it is a moderate success.]
Reward- it was a medical necessity that I will not clog our already bloated system with the paperwork of just to be prodded at by your little- by our colleagues.
[an exhale from his nose. ok. trying again.] Fine, if this is a matter of payment then what do you wish to trade to make up the deficit? I understand there is no currency in this wretched place.
no subject
I shouldn't need to tell you why letting our supplies slip through the cracks unmonitored is a bad idea. Just because you're frustrated with paperwork— what were you thinking, really?
[Because he doesn't buy "already bloated system" as, like, a valid defense, that's stupid. The system, needed overhaul and prodding colleagues or no, does not excuse stealing supplies from a hospital!! He presses his fingers harder into his temples for a long moment before he actually loses his temper, eyes closed, before he can handle trying to explain moral concepts like this again.
Okay. Alright. He's good.]
I want you to fill out your fucking paperwork— [no. nope. temper. take two,] We're running a place of healing here, not a hobby shop. Don't pay me; fill out the paperwork for use of inventory and then replace what you took.
no subject
his jaw works, irritated that any answer he can give anywhere close to the truth is too painfully pathetic to offer. things like this is one of the only places that felt even remotely safe to sleep in, thank you, or that he cannot go bartering with his blood for morphine when he isn't sure his wretched, infected blood might not be dangerous on more levels than he'd care to picture. who knows what these heathens did with the stuff anyway, and what else is he supposed to do when he desperately needs the rest pain will not allow?
ugh. there is an obvious moment of struggling not to snap and say more, leave it a bitter back and forth. 'hobby shop' nearly sends him down that spiral but he musters enough composure to return merely a hard stare.] I cannot replace it, so I would hope that payment in the form of my service will suffice. One I can get back to now, if you would be so kind, dear colleague.
no subject
So, he will wait out this struggle. See, the thing is, he would like some more morphine to put on some shelves, on principle. Maybe everyone needs to have a minister meeting about consequences for actions, he'll think about it.]
What work have you been doing? You were tattled on for plenty of things; I've heard you refused to complete a single training shift.
[It's time for your training arc, little dude.]