equal_shots | Mailbox

Mailbox

[At 5009 Apple Pie Way, there is a very plain mailbox mounted up against the front door which will be checked fairly frequently.

Edit: For the sake of continuity, as of his arrival in the Meadous and until further notice, Kid cannot see--so unless you intend to read him your letter or you write it in Braille, he's not going to actually be able to see it--he'll just know someone's posted a letter his way. Thanks to auto-translation, Kid will be able to read anything sent to him as it will automatically be changed to Braille while he is blind.]

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[He hasn't used the kitchen much yet, today. Aside from a small dusting of flour on the countertop and an unwashed dough roller, it's clean. The pots and pans are stowed and all of the cabinets and doors are closed, so as long as Kid doesn't go looking for disorganization there's minimal to be found.

Once he's closed the curtain between the rooms, he lets Kid's elbow go.]

See for yourself. I really don't know what's an appropriate surrounding for you.

[But it's the same kitchen that Monty had designed for him in Between, so it's... much more uniform, at least.]

[Kid hesitantly peeks between his fingers before removing his hand. The kitchen is blessedly more uniform, and he breathes a sigh of relief as the image of the room sets in. His shoulders sink, finally relaxing.]

Much better.

[He's able to focus on Undertaker now, though he does fish a handkerchief from his pocket and begin addressing the flour on the counter, as if it were entirely normal. As he does so, he glances over his shoulder to address Undertaker.]

You are very worried about Dr. Watson...that he might do something foolish?

Hang on--Before we get on to that, what exactly was that about?

[Watson can wait for just a few more minutes.]

That's really unnecessary. The problem is solved, isn't it?

[Kid has brushed the flour off the counter and shaken out the handkerchief before turning to the rolling pin and pulling his sleeves up slightly before turning on the tap to clean it also.

He might just be playing off his nerves as nothing, but the slight set of his shoulders suggests he's still more flustered than he'd care to admit.] Order is important, though it's not worth a discussion now. There are more pressing matters.

[Undertaker continues to observe him as he cleans, quite obviously thinking to himself. But Kid does have a point; just one issue at a time, for now.

Folding his arms upwards near his chest, he leans his back against the wall next to the stove with a small sigh.]

Alright. Back to Dr. Watson... yes, you're correct. He's acting quite unlike himself.

[Nevermind your ogling, Undertaker. Kid is busy. The cleaned rolling pin is dried with a dishcloth that Kid finds hanging somewhere, and he dries it with the focus of someone attending to a life-or-death task.]

Unlike himself in what way? [The teen holds the rolling pin in his hands, frowning.] How is it bad enough that you're worried he might do something foolish?

[Undertaker continues to watch out of the corner of his eyes before he finally leans over and plucks the rolling pin by one end, tugging it out of Kid's hands. Then rolls it between his own palms just to have something to fidget.]

He hardly reacted to my tactics when I tried to make him angry. [Which he knows in and of itself isn't too much evidence.]

I glimpsed a particular look in his eyes, though. I've seen it more often than I've had any care to, particularly in myself. It's made me think that he may be close to giving up.

Ordinarily, he has a temper. More than I had thought when we first met.

[The towel Kid is carefully folding falls still as he looks up at the other reaper, his expression carefully neutral. It's plastered on neutrality, deliberate, but Kid won't allow his nerves to win here.]

I already told you that I doubt he'll tell me anything. All that he's said... [He hesitates. John's admission of a past with anxiety was both deeply private and deeply personal. It was a privilege to be privy to the information, even if it had been shared in an attempt to help him with his own disordered thinking. As such, it was knowledge Kid decided to keep to himself.] ...he's said he doesn't like to worry children anymore, or put any further burden on us.

[He doesn't notice that he's gotten the towel balled tightly in his hands.] But I am certain I'll be able to distract him.

[Some of the tightly wound energy coming from him dissipates, glad that Kid isn't prying any further than that. There's not much else that needs to be said; Undertaker's intention from the start was just for the other reaper to act as a distraction from any darker thoughts that Watson might be vulnerable to in his state.

Especially if he's already made statements like that, before, which only confirms Undertaker's suspicions that Kid was the correct choice to call on.

He gives a nod, pausing in his fidgeting.]

No need to interrogate the man, no. Just keep an eye on him.

[He planned on doing a bit of that, himself, but having two pairs of eyes was better than one. Well, figuratively speaking, when his were barely functional.]

I doubt he'd allow me to babysit, but I'm confident I can at least keep his attention elsewhere for some time.

[Much like Undertaker allowed Kid off the hook for his earlier display, the teen is returning the courtesy. A tone of voice that suggested he not ask simply meant that Kid kept his questions and concerns to himself. For now.

Let it not be said that Kid himself is incapable of maintaining a carefully crafted facade of neutrality when the need truly arose.] Now, to keep him busy...

[The neatly folded dishtowel is placed back on the counter, and Kid crosses his arms.] Do you have a sharp knife? Suturing should keep a trauma surgeon busy at least for a little while.

[That Look says he's entirely serious, too.]

[That question makes him blink once, surprised at the request but perhaps not as concerned by it as a normal person should be. He knows immediately what Kid intends to do and doesn't seem to disapprove of it if his next actions are any indication. Wordlessly, he sets the rolling pin down on the counter and pushes away from the wall, striding a few short paces to a kitchen drawer.

He pulls it open, rattling silverware and various utensils within it as he does so before he extracts--not a steak or paring knife--but a scalpel from it. Which he hands over to Kid with a hint of a smile and a small shrug.]

Cuts biscuit dough the best.

Now I really don't want any of your biscuits.

[He takes the scalpel and is able to make blessedly short work of his task. The blade is sharp enough that when he sinks it into his upper left arm, first cutting the fabric of his shirt and then pressing it into the skin and muscle beneath. He meets no resistance until the scalpel blade meets bone, and tugs downwards until he's certain he's caught the brachial artery--if the amount of blood pouring from the wound is any indication, he's sure he's found his mark.

The scalpel is then discarded into the sink; the hand that should be applying pressure might be digging into the wound to better keep it open. And Kid watches with just the slightest hint of discomfort, jaw set in what seems to be more irritation than pain.

It hasn't yet struck him that he's left himself off balance. In a few minutes.] Good enough. It should last long enough for a few stitches.

[He can't help but snicker a bit at Kid's reaction, following it up with,]

At least I have a proper oven and not a cremator for baking, now.

[And when the younger reaper uses the scalpel to stab himself, Undertaker appears indifferent. His own pain tolerance was stupidly high and he suspects that the other's healing ability is close to if not equal to his own. It's moreso the copious amount of blood dripping on the floor that he chooses to complain about, ironically considering his state of living.]

And good enough to leave more work for me~! Go off before you make a bigger mess of my floors.

[He's careful to keep his fingers in the wound to prevent any chance of healing, and shoots Undertaker a glare.]

I cleaned your counters. Call it a trade.

[Kid huffs before heading out the door. He's quick and quiet, and Undertaker will even find that the teen manages to leave fairly little blood in his wake and no smudges on the front door.

From outside though, the reaper might be able to hear a strangled cry of horror, followed by panicked rambling that grows quieter as he makes his way to the clinic: Hideous asymmetric filth! Unbalanced--why just a single cut on the left? There could have been two perfectly symmetrical cuts on both sides! I am a failure as a grim reaper! What sort of reaper would allow this?!]

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Mailbox

no subject

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cw: allusions to suicide

cw: allusions to suicide

cw: allusions to suicide

cw: allusions to suicide, self harm

cw: self harm

cw: self harm, blood/gore

cw: self harm, blood/gore

cw: self harm, blood/gore