...i wasn't -serious-.

[.xander;;]

the wolf circled caleb, claws clicking ominously along the ground. a deep growl rumbled in its throat as its burning eyes cut him. he could practically feel them.

“i was enjoying that.”

it didn’t talk. but it was a part of him, and he felt its thoughts, just as it felt his.

“i was so close,” it snarled ferociously. “and he ruined it. i’m going to kill him. you’re going to let me kill him.”

“no!” caleb immediately yelled. “i won’t let you.”

the wolf stopped in its tracks. the fur on the back of its neck bristled and it snapped at caleb’s legs. he jumped back, terrified. the beast drew nearer until it had him backed up against a wall. it bared sharp yellow teeth at him, snarling and laughing at the same time.

“i don’t need your permission. you can’t stop me. i am you.”

the bed that xander jerked awake in was not his. the room was unfamiliar, as well, but he didn’t get a good shot of it considering when he sat up, his head spun so dizzyingly that he collapsed back onto the pillow. the back of his head throbbed horribly, like he’d been hit with a cement block. he could hardly open his left eye and his jaw also ached unpleasantly. the past events were blurry in his mind. all he knew was that he had transformed again while in katze’s office and violently attacked the therapist. was he dead? xander wondered distantly. he didn’t feel like he had the strength to actually check. some part of him hoped the psychiatrist was dead. at least then whoever counseled him wouldn’t hold a personal grudge yet.

[lynx]

Dr. Katze... he was quite injured. After the surgery hours ago, the man was now within a bed beside the other's, having Xander's guard at attention just in case he went insane again. Lynx, well, he was quite... unconscience.

With the other's rustling, he was roused from slumber. Bandaged, IV'd, and having had a two-bag worth of transfusions from the loss of blood given to him by Xander. It was a mircale, one of the doctor's had said, that he was alive. Especially with the weak Lynx being against the wolf-boy.

Headturned the best it could, and he saw the wolf with his one-working eye. The other having been cut on the lid and now was covered by gauze to make sure there was no infection. Bleh.

He smiled at Xander. "...Hey." Is all he said at first. "Sorry... my fault... I shouldn't have slapped you to get you out of that state... I was stupid."

A nod of his head, he was basically already trying to cover it up that the man had attacked him by just a touch. What a sweet doctor he was to go out of his way to protect him!

Psh, Xander should ttly be nicer.

[&Gretchen]

Gretchen was laying down in a particularly bumpy infirmary bed, staring up at the ceiling. An all too-familiar situation. It was the third time this month. She'd been trying to carve a tree design onto her left arm with a fork she had managed to acquire from an unsuspecting guard during lunch. She'd gotten as far as the roots and the base of the trunk when she'd been caught. Her guard had been pissed. He had shouted something at her, but she'd lost consciousness before she could make sense of the words. Right now she tried to remember them. And failed. And felt like continuing the design on her arm.

The wannabe redhead wondered how much blood she had lost. Apparently not enough. But she was a chicken when it came to suicide. Her being here had been an accident of sorts, as she had not intended to lose so much blood. When you couldn't feel pain, stuff like that could get out of hand sometimes.

The sound of voices reached her hole-riddled ears [before she had been admitted years ago, she had possessed a plethora of piercings]. Gretchen sighed, debating on whether or not she should see what was going on. Just laying there for hours, maybe even days, was much more appealing than human interaction. But her previous therapists had all been ape about the need for such things. Well, all but her last one… Her last one had been different from the other therapists. Instead of telling her that self-mutilation was bad, he'd done it to her himself. Amongst other things.

She hadn't seen him in a while. She wondered if maybe he had been fired.

Oh well. Time to sit up.

To her right lay two occupied beds. This was where all the noise was coming from. Actually it was only coming from one of the guys, because the other one was this wolf child that she'd seen on occasion. He'd been there about as long as she had. She didn’t know his name, though. All she knew was that he didn’t talk. Which suited her fancy just fine. The other guy, however, needed to shut up. He was apologizing frantically to the wolf-face for something or other. This mystified Gretchen, because it appeared that he was the one who needed some apologies.

"Did he hit you on your head, aussi?" she asked in a flat, emotionless voice. It was always like this. Unchanging. You had to listen carefully to discern whether she was stating a fact or asking a question. The only thing that made it interesting at all was the French accent. But she appeared to know her English. "You are the one who is hurt. Unless… you did this to yourself?" She tilted her head to the side, regarding the pair with gray-green eyes. Extremely prominent bags under her eyes indicated lack of sleep. They seemed permanent.

[.xander;;]

and his side. that hurt like hell, too. having vin diesel kick you in the kidney will do that to you, i guess. maybe it was even in the ribcage. broken ribs? sweet! let’s have a tea party surgery! obviously mink can’t be serious today, so she apologizes profusely to tifferny and rinnerbean.

eventually xander decided he was a beast and managed to sit up but only while leaning on the bed’s headboard. his head was still like, fuck you, put me back down! but he was, in all honesty, slightly concerned about the man he had ripped to shreds. okay, he took back what he had thought earlier. he did feel bad about ripping katze’s face off. not that xander liked him any more as a therapist, but he did have a conscience. that, and he didn’t really like the idea of burning in hell, even though he knew he was already going to do that anyway.

he gave katze this dumb look, like, why are you trying to cover me? what don’t you get about ‘i don’t like you’?

stan stared back completely innocently when xander looked at him accusingly. but when he thought about it, no, that wouldn’t work. stan totally could scare someone into doing what he wanted them to, but he wasn’t that kind of guy.

then another joined in the fray! xander jumped slightly, making his kicked ribs quite screech in pain, but he didn’t because he was just that beastly. anyway, the one who had spoken--and rather rudely! how dare she. only xander was allowed to be rude to katze!--to the therapist was someone he recognized as the girl that stan’s mortal enemy of death and doom guarded. oh noes! he thought worriedly. stan will start a punchfest! but stan just stood there. because stan was the beastliest of them all.

[lynx]

That girl who spoke? NOT his patient. So, guess what? Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen! LYNX IGNORED HER. Quite a strange fellow he was, to make sure to let the girl know she didn't exist at the moment, well, he kept his attention focused on Xander. A smile (somehow) still plastered on his face. Even if he looked like complete beat-up shit he was still so nice and kind--the hearts were returning.

His unbattered arm reached to the table at the side and pulled up the clipboard. Lifts it to his line of sight and reads. "Huh, I'm on morphine... No wonder I can't feel anything." Smiles and happiness. Yes, happiness.

Shifting again, he lifted up the blanket to survey the damage. His chest was pretty bad, but his legs had just suffered a few bruishes, one cut on the thigh... Headtilts. Smiles. "I can walk. My arm works... By the chart, except for light scarring--I'll be back to my normal self in a month." Wow, talk about Mr. Positivity.

Looks at Xander, now an apologetic smile on his features. "I'm sorry, Xander... I really apologize for my actions. I was... overly-concerned and acted rashly towards you without foresight on the reprocussions. It is my fault you're in such a state. I'm truly sorry." Oh god, if this man could get any nicer and sweeter, Tifferny is going to BARF her non-existant food in her stomach.

Because all that's in there is acid right now, Tifferny will eat after this post. Lynx covered himself back up and settled back in, still smiling and happy. Places the board away and frowns. "...Is Mink okay?" Worried about his poor kitty-cat. T_T "How long have I been out?"

[.xander;;]

tifferny wasn’t the only one. xander honestly felt like barfing as well. lynx was way too happy and nice. a blood-crazed werewolf can only take so much happy and nice before he goes completely bonkers. said werewolf gave katze an appalled stare for a while before he began searching his pockets for his notepad… but, gasp! he had no pockets! he had been stripped of his jacket in order for the doctors to note the bruises on his side! now he only had his t-shirt on! oh nooooes! that meant his left hand was not covered!

alas, he would have to keep it hidden under the covers. until then, stan grabbed the notebook and pen from his jacket which was incidentally hanging on the headboard and handed it to xander. xander drew one knee up and used his thigh as a makeshift desk as he immediately began writing something. he glanced over at katze, still disbelievingly, while he was writing, and stan glanced at what he was writing. stan proceeded to lightly hit xander over the head. after growling once, the lycanthrope scratched out what he had wrote and instead looked over at the brunette girl and the ominous georg. xander did not much like georg considering georg enjoyed torturing stan.

however, the carving on the girl's arm was quite lovely. it looked kind of like a tree. only it wasn't a tree yet, it was a dead stump. well, still.

did georg do that to you? he wrote and showed her. she happened to be in the bed next to his. how convenient. anyway, he knew enough about this chick to know she was the one who hurt herself, but it was all good to get ahead of georg before he started something. stan metaphorically facepalmed.

[&Gretchen]

Gretchen was rather disheartened when the man she was speaking to her refused to answer. He even refused to acknowledge her existence. If she could cry, she probably would have started bawling her eyes out then. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do a lot of things. Like interact with people. Obviously she sucked at human interaction. Maybe she had mistakenly spoken in French… Nope. She was pretty sure she had asked her questions in English. Maybe she was invisible? Or hallucinating? She had lost some blood, but she was fairly sure that she wasn’t hallucinating or invisible. She didn’t believe in fairytales like being invisible anyway.

Of course when you tried telling her the Bible was a fairytale she could sometimes get defensive. But that was only for appearances. As much as she tried she could not believe any of the bull in that book. But in fear of going to Hell, she told herself she was a crazy-mad Catholic. She read [more like tried reading] the big book once a month, to keep her spiritual self up. But you couldn’t let her kid you. Her spiritual self is about as up as my brother is active. If you have any doubts of my words, ask her therapist [VINNY!].

So, being that she had nothing else to say, she simply stared at the pair. The mute kid seemed to be as capable of human interaction as she was. Good to know she wasn’t alone. Except he was a bit better in the fact that he was being noticed and talked to by the other man. What was up with him, anyways? He was so happy, he should share some of his happiness with Gretchen. Gretchen felt a pang of envy. She wished she could be that happy. She wished she could have just one tenth of his happiness. One hundredth. One thousandth. The brunette frowned, biting her lip and looking at her hands worriedly. Her therapists told her not to worry about things like this. They told her she would get better.

… But it'd been more than a year…

… They'd said stuff like this could take more than three years, even…

She blinked her eyes in surprise [at least as close as she got to surprise] when a notebook hovered into her view. She read the words, looked up to see Xander, then looked back at her arm. She guessed he was talking about the tree. Or what was supposed to be a tree. It was just a stump right now. She hadn't made any efforts of concealing it. She didn’t try to hide anything from people, mostly because she didn’t have the same sense of self-consciousness that 'normal' people seemed to possess. She felt a form shift behind her. Her guard, trying to see what the note said. She shifted in the way of his view. She didn’t hate or love anyone, but she had no wish to let him see the note.

Gretchen was about to reach out to write a reply to his question, when she remembered she possessed the ability to speak. "No…" she answered, tracing the ugly wounds on her arm with a long, bony finger. "I did. Georg caught me. He was angry." A snort came from behind her. She winced slightly. "I just wanted to… draw. And did not have paper." She thought of what one was supposed to say when they conversated with another. "Ehm… What happened to that man?" Give her a few points for trying. One of her therapists had had an obsession with giving her a smiley face sticker every time she did something positive. She almost expected to get a sticker.

[lynx]

To note for all reading, Lynx is dead tired and basically unresponsive to everyone and everything. Sad, no?

Lynx laid there, breathing in and out. He coughed, sighed, and tried his best to not choke in his position. Without a guard or anything; and too nice to put anyone out for help... He just laid there, and coughed again.

Somehow getting himself partially up, without hurting himself, he ended up sliding back down with his eyes closed. Perhaps Xander getting some human interaction was a good thing, right? Though, it was a little sad that the male was of course getting along better with the crazy girl rather than himself. Very off-putting, mind you. He would pout, but he had no energy.

A smile continued to grace his lips and he leaned further back into the pillows. Eyes started to close. The twenty-seven year old male looked pretty-much exhausted, to all honesty's sake. He turned to Xander once again. "Sorry." Then he pulled the sheet up with his good hand and kinda snuggled into it; if he had been able he would've curled up like a kitty cat and slept just like that and right there of course.

Though, with his blue-hues closed beneath pale lides, sleep was coming and gripping him.

[.xander;;]

no paper? xander would die without paper. seriously, he would probably off himself. no pen would be okay. he could always prick a finger and write with blood. but no paper would just totally be fail. yes, he would definitely off himself. xander felt great sympathy for the girl. it made him very sad that anyone would have to go through life without paper. that was crueler than even death. okay, so maybe he needed paper more than most other people. hey, maybe he should get one of those computer things that actually speaks when you type stuff into it? no, that would feel too much like lying. it wouldn’t be his voice, after all.

the whole self-mutilation thing didn’t really bother him. it was better than hurting other people. he kind of wished that the wounds he had inflicted on others were instead inflicted on him. that would be a lot better. too bad the wolf wasn’t too hot on punching itself in the face. it preferred eating the face off of other people and it didn’t usually let xander do anything to himself. hey, if your host is weak, you’re weak too, so you can’t really blame the furry guy. speaking of which, the wolf was currently very unhappy with dan’s beating up of xander. xander wasn’t exactly thrilled, either, but he wasn’t angry with dan. if he had been able to, he would have thanked the guy every time he had punched him. he needed sense knocked into him when the wolf was in control.

ANYWAY. back to gretch. how did i get so sidetracked away from her when i had begun with her? i just fail that hard, i guess. oh sweet jesus i did it again.

GRETCHEN. asked about lynx.

GOD I KEEP GETTING DISTRACTED BY STUPID MSN CONVOS.

GRETCHEN ASKED WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO LYNX. XANDER DIDN’T REPLY DIRECTLY. HE ACTUALLY WAS KIND OF PUT OFF. BUT HE DIDN’T IGNORE GRETCHEN EVEN THOUGH HE FELT LIKE SHIT. HE WAS JUST FEELING REALLY BADLY ABOUT HOW HE’D TREATED PEOPLE LATELY [COUGH COUGH LYNX COUGH] SO HE DECIDED TO NOT BE A DICK LIKE USUAL. jesus christ, thomas dekker is so beastly and hot in the sarah connor chronicles. i just want to jump in there and go, “DON’T BE SO SAD. YOU’RE A FUCKING BEAST. I LOVE YOU.” the only problem is he’d be like, “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? GET AWAY FROM ME!”

OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY I KEEP GETTING OFF TRACK. OKAY I AM GOING TO IGNORE EVERYTHING BUT THIS WORD DOCUMENT FROM NOW UNTIL I FINISH THIS DAMN POST.

SO xander decided to not be a dick. not a total dick, anyway. he got the shit beaten out of him, he wrote with a “duh” look. what do you think? YES, xander could totally be a bigger dick than that!

[&Gretchen]

From what she could see, the man-who-must-have-been-on- speed-but-moved-like-he-was-on-morphine was basically going dead as a doorknob. He might have the intelligence of one also, what with his unresponsive qualities. However without further exposure to stimuli Gretchen could not conclude this current hypothesis. She metaphorically placed it on her pending list. It was a comforting thing to think that maybe her luck with speaking to him was not all her fault. He could have a type of mental disorder. After all, that is what most people were in this building for. Unless he was part of the staff.

Her milky-looking eyes turned their gaze to a new reply from the mute. Well, now she knew he had a personality. It wasn’t as uppity as the other man's, but it was still a notch above the brunette's own situation. She glanced between the pair, wondering what the connection was between them. It didn’t take long for it to sink in. Although Mr. Happy was still short of a proper identity. She was getting tired of calling him things that related to speed or heroine or crack.

"You did this to him?" she asked, although it was more a statement than a question. She was more so stating it just to keep the conversation going. She was afraid of it stopping. She was doing so well. Her therapist would be proud of her. "Et… Is he a patient?"