Reclaimed: Subdued
Jul. 2nd, 2013 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmetterlingSchuldig is given a set of scrubs that have been boiled at least a hundred times; Esset was never as cheap as this, resorting to some bargain laundry service. Must be Naoe's influence on the Kritiker board, he decided, grimacing as he finished dressing. "Ready or not, here I come," he alerted his escort, slipping his feet into the paper booties and shuffling into the hall.
The walk was brief but the corridors and stairs were blandly modern and designed to make the way un-memorable. Dampers were in effect, though with less strength between doors so Schuldig could occasionally feel a dizzying pull between muffled silence. His guide was keeping his own thoughts quiet and subtly shielded, while he himself was not, and his expressions betrayed him as well as uneven pace and direction. What the hell, he'd have a minute or so to pull himself together, and how serious could this interview.. debriefing.. whatever it was be, they expected him to arrive in hospital garb.
The man in the lead gave a polite bow as they reached their destination, a small room with a table, two chairs, and one obvious observation mirror, and pointed to the chair opposite the mirror. Schuldig gave a slightly stiff and comedic bow in return before sitting, but to his surprise his guide accompanied him inside and settled into the chair across from him. For a moment neither spoke. Schuldig tried on his best "I knew you'd do that" face and his guide smirked right back.
"Du Halsabschneider, you're reading me," Schuldig leaned forward, thin and predatory, defenses crackling as he desperately tried to keep up a front. This guy, this holding cell errand boy, could read him despite the effect of the dampers? Schuldig couldn't even really feel the barriers or resistance of the dampers, it was like appreciating heat or cooling without ever feeling the air move; whatever new technology Kritiker was rolling out was new and horrifying, and damned if he was going to fail whatever..
"Too late," the man across the table shrugged. Schuldig opened his mouth to protest, frowned as he realized that was ridiculous given the circumstances, and then the circumstances brought heat to his cheeks. The other rose from his chair and Schuldig watched, rapt, desperation suppressed but rising. "Don't bother getting up, and don't be too disappointed, this wasn't actually your interview."
With that Schuldig was left alone to consider his reflection.
The walk was brief but the corridors and stairs were blandly modern and designed to make the way un-memorable. Dampers were in effect, though with less strength between doors so Schuldig could occasionally feel a dizzying pull between muffled silence. His guide was keeping his own thoughts quiet and subtly shielded, while he himself was not, and his expressions betrayed him as well as uneven pace and direction. What the hell, he'd have a minute or so to pull himself together, and how serious could this interview.. debriefing.. whatever it was be, they expected him to arrive in hospital garb.
The man in the lead gave a polite bow as they reached their destination, a small room with a table, two chairs, and one obvious observation mirror, and pointed to the chair opposite the mirror. Schuldig gave a slightly stiff and comedic bow in return before sitting, but to his surprise his guide accompanied him inside and settled into the chair across from him. For a moment neither spoke. Schuldig tried on his best "I knew you'd do that" face and his guide smirked right back.
"Du Halsabschneider, you're reading me," Schuldig leaned forward, thin and predatory, defenses crackling as he desperately tried to keep up a front. This guy, this holding cell errand boy, could read him despite the effect of the dampers? Schuldig couldn't even really feel the barriers or resistance of the dampers, it was like appreciating heat or cooling without ever feeling the air move; whatever new technology Kritiker was rolling out was new and horrifying, and damned if he was going to fail whatever..
"Too late," the man across the table shrugged. Schuldig opened his mouth to protest, frowned as he realized that was ridiculous given the circumstances, and then the circumstances brought heat to his cheeks. The other rose from his chair and Schuldig watched, rapt, desperation suppressed but rising. "Don't bother getting up, and don't be too disappointed, this wasn't actually your interview."
With that Schuldig was left alone to consider his reflection.
