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WHO: Ladd Russo and Thomas Blake
WHERE: NOHoPE
WHEN: Forward dated to sometime next Wednesday
WARNINGS: At most, some mild violence.
SUMMARY: Ladd meets his new best friend Thomas at a psychiatric hospital and they make friendship bracelets. They also insult each other and act like dicks.
FORMAT: Short

[Ladd is bored. After being arrested, he'd figured that there would at least be a little more excitement than just being shoved into his loony bin with a straightjacket on. In the olden days, killing a kid like that would have at least got him a couple of years in Alcatraz! But in these modern times, they always had such boring prisons.]

[As he sits in the recreation room of the hospital, watching a few people go by with bored disinterest, he spots a face he recognises. He seems to recall talking to the guy over the network about his darling Lua, but he didn't remember him looking so goddamn mopey. Perhaps he should cheer him up a bit!]

[Ladd strolls over to the guy, still as confident as ever, and looks down at him.]

What's the matter with you? You don't look very happy!

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[ Thomas is, at this moment, a sluggishly medicated mess slumping over a flimsy plastic table. Staring in the distance, his self-pity is only interrupted by a certain figure sliding in front of him.

His gaze follows up the straightjacket to meet a vaguely familiar face; it takes him a good moment to recognize the other guy. Oh, right. That other psychopath. Story of his life. ]

Christ, and you’re not?

[Ladd shrugs with great emphasis, before helping himself to a seat next to the sad guy.]

Well, I can't say I'm over the moon, but I'm certainly not as much of a sadsack as you! It doesn't help anyone if you're just slumping over some goddamn table like you're having some sort of fainting fit.

[ Thomas sighs, drumming his fingers on the table. It's not like he has much to do but talk. ]

Hey, you're the one running around in a straightjacket. I'd rather just wait this stuff out than expend any energy doing absolutely nothing.

That's just of account of my powers. What sort of thug do they take me for? I'm not exactly going to shoot people in a hospital, now am I?

[Yes he is, but he doesn't really care.]

Well, I suppose we have all the time in the world to just sit here and talk. Won't that be fun? Just you and me!

[ Oh, Thomas looks so positively thrilled that he visibly cringes, rubbing a hand over his face. ]

Yeah, sure. Great. You and me.

[ Slowly: ] But whatever you did to land in here does makey you a "thug," right? Same as me. Negative labels to associate with negative actions, whatever.

I guess so! But I don't appreciate being called a thug, considering I had a very good reason to blow off that little bastard's head.

[He shrugs yet again. The restricted use of his arms meant it was pretty hard to do anything but shrug.]

Of course, it was a lot of fun to kill the kid too, but I suppose you would know about that.

[ SQUINT. He's not exactly in the mood to have fun chats about how great killing people is. ]

So. What was the reason?

He was going to blow up a train full of people! Which ain't exactly nice, mainly because I wanted to kill them first. The good, old fashioned way!

Killing someone with a hidden bomb is just a sneaky, underhanded way of killing someone. I like to keep a certain level of respectability when I'm offing some idiot with his head up his own ass.

[ If Thomas is gaping a little, he's not aware of it. ]

Did you tell the cops what the other guy was doing?

I don't think the cops cover crimes that happened seventy years ago in a different universe.

[Ladd says this like it's no big deal, because why would it sound strange??]

Oh. [ Pausing to process this. ] Oh.

You decided to kill that guy not to prevent some deaths, whether to get them later or not, you decided to kill him because he decided to off them in a way you don't like?

[ He holds his own head in his hands, suddenly devastated. ] And I'm stuck here. With you. I'm seen at the exact level of crazy that you are. [ A deep breath. ] Goddamn.

Well, if it makes you feel better, I say you're worse than me!

[He's so helpful.]

[ Welp, a nerve was definitely touched there. ] I'm worse than you? Me?

Despite being [ He gestures widely. ], I'm no psychopath. I don't kill for kicks, unlike you.

I'm not some sort of monster, okay?

So what do you kill for? And before you say money, I know that's a lot of crap seeing as you could've just got a job as an accountant if you wanted that.

Now, I'm no monster either, but it's natural for people like us to get some fun out of snapping some dumb bastard's neck, see? It's just in our nature!

It doesn't mean we shouldn't fight it. We can't hold onto our humanity when all we see in others is how great their deaths would be; it doesn't work like that.

And, uh. [ As if he's going to actually tell the truth, god. ] I make a lot more than an accountant?

[Some more mocking laughter from Ladd now.]

I should hope it's good money if it got you stuck here! Last time I checked, "mentally sane" people ain't sent to a nuthouse without a good reason.

[ The laughter sets his teeth on edge. ]

I'm not supposed to be here with people like you. Prison, maybe. But here? Somebody must have pulled some strings.

I'm fine.

You look fine, I suppose! But you can never really tell, can you?

Appearances are deceptive. I mean, looking at you, I would have at least guessed you wouldn't be slumped over a table like a corpse at the first sign of trouble, but I guess you're just not that kind of guy!

[ In a sudden furor, Thomas rises (well, nearly jumps) up from his chair, leaning over the table with a snarl marking his features.

Ignoring the rapt attention of the basketcases in the hall, he jabs an angry finger towards Ladd's chest, speaking lowly. ]

You don't know me. You have no place to assume what type of person I am, or that I'm weak or not.

[Ladd continues smiling like he's just been handed a lollipop, noting down just what exactly could cause this guy to fight. It was so dull in here, and violence was always entertaining. Let's see how much rage he can ignite!]

Of course not! After all, I'm no god or anything. I'm just an ordinary guy like you, who just happens to be in an insane asylum with you. Though I'm probably better looking.

[ Thomas gives a quick, vicious laugh, moving away and sitting back down. He can see Ladd trying to get a rise out of him. ]

Sorry, you're not even close. With all those rolls bound under that jacket, you might be passable. At best. Otherwise... [ He trails off. ]

[Oh snap. Ladd's voice gets a little more threatening now.]

And what's that supposed to mean?

[ Thomas's brows lift. He didn't expect that reaction, but he pushes on. For science. ]

All I'm saying is if you hide that fat, lose sixty pounds, you could actually stop being disgustingly ugly. Take it as a compliment.

[Ladd realises that he may have shown a little too much emotion there, so he attempts to hide behind a smile. It's pretty hard to miss the obvious angry tone in his voice, though.]

I don't know what you're trying to imply, but whatever it is, I'm sure it's not true.

You tried to imply that I'm not at the peak of my sanity. I'm pretty sure that's not true, either.

Yeah, but there's a big difference between insulting a guy's sanity and making untrue claims about a guy's body!

Sounds like the same thing to me. How about a compromise?

Either both or them are true, or neither of them are. Your pick.

That's quite the ultimatum you've given me right there! For a crazy guy, you're good at standing up for yourself at least, I'll give you that!

[And he takes a few seconds to decide on his answer.]

After careful consideration of what I've seen of you, I think it would be a goddamn lie to say you're not just as insane as they claim you are. And I'm no goddamn liar, apart from when the situation suits me!

So I suppose I'll just have to agree with your first deal, despite how fradulent your claim is. After all, I'd be crazy to turn it down, wouldn't I?

[ He grits his teeth. That was not exactly the answer he was expecting, nor was it the one he wanted to hear. ]

As "they" claim I am? Who the hell is "they?" The bureaucrats who decided that it'd be easier to take care of me here than behind bars?

You're so full of shit that your doublechin is jiggling.

Now you're just being rude. Besides, all I'm trying to do is help you, and all the thanks I get is some unbased insults! It's just not good, goddamn manners.

[ He's totally, utterly skeptical. ]

You're trying to help me.

[He has good reason to be.]

Why else would I be here? I'm not a mean guy, after all. I'm just trying to help you come to terms with your problems. Don't they say the first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one?

I don't have any problems to get solved. [ DENIAL IS IN THE AIR TONIGHT. ] I didn't ask for any of this.

No one asks for help! They just need it.

[Guess who has been watching too much daytime television in his free time.]

The least you can do is thank me for my effort at trying to help you. All I'm hearing is a bunch of insults, and I don't think they serve as a very good way of gratifying my generous attempts to help you.

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/casually uses this icon several times in a row

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