quietplace | un: kyouken

[ well. if he wasn't going to pick one...

Majima grabbed one of the candy bars at random and tossed it to Thomas. You were a good catch, right buddy.

American chocolate was way too sweet for him, though he had enjoyed the matcha Kit Kats that Tetora had given him earlier. But Eddie and the others seemed to enjoy this stuff, and for whatever reason, one of the others had apparently developed an undying love for something called Doritos.

(He'd tried them. They were terrible.) ]

You handled animals before?

[ He was only asking because Thomas's baiting game seemed so on point. ]

[ of course he's a good catch. thomas's hand snaps up to grab the candy bar out of the air with little effort, the wrapper crinkling quietly in his grip, but he doesn't slide it into his pocket. instead, he takes a couple steps up to the bar, and sets it on the bar top instead for now. putting it in his pocket would only lead to melted, misshapen chocolate, and while he has no plans to eat it, newt might enjoy it more, solidified an in its proper form.

thomas doesn't sit, but he does lean his forearms against the counter. he's quiet, thinking for a moment. has he handled animals before? well, grievers probably don't count as actual animals, and his experience with them, well — it's a different kind of 'handling'. he thinks a little harder, vaguely remembers a white lab and a brown rat, but it's not enough to make anything of the memory.

he shakes his head. ]

No, not really. Grievers probably don't count. [ and that's all he has to say on that.

thomas takes another look around the bar, cranes his head back to look up at the ceilings, too. ] You put all this together?

Not quite. The locals fixed up the counter, or so I been led to believe. And they bring a shitton of booze out here every month. All the glasses and equipment and the rest of it 'cept the pool table, though, I had to either scavenge or trade for it.

People around here'll bring ya all kindsa crazy stuff if they're thirsty. Which I figure they are all the time.

Can't blame 'em.

[ He crossed his arms over his chest as Stella toddled about, wandering over to the sofa. ]

You and Newt, ya doin' all right?

[ congratulations, thomas. you and newt were a unit in majima's reckoning, now and forever. ]

[ the last boozy beverage thomas had made him hallucinate all of his closest friends as cranks, so the appeal of the drink isn't really all that strong for him, regardless of how much he could do with a little unwinding. then again, it probably wasn't even booze at all, but whatever it was was enough to turn him off of the idea of kicking back with a tall glass of no thanks.

still, the bar itself isn't bad, even for someone with no interest in drinking. minho would probably like the pool table, and he could see newt getting a little competitive with darts. god only know that the two of them deserve to relax a little, and this seems like a half way decent place for it.

thomas looks back at majima, his attention drawn back in by the mention of his friend's name. he pauses, a little caught off guard by the question. people don't usually ask if they're okay. adults (the right arm and jorge excluded) don't usually ask if they're okay, not without some kind of ulterior motive.

but majima seems alright. as the days go by, thomas feels less and less uncertain about him, but he hasn't completely dismissed the idea just yet that he could be wckd, that all of this is wckd and everyone's just playing a part. it's too dangerous to let go of that paranoia. there are too many unanswered questions about this place for him to let it go.

thomas glances down for a moment, absently pushing the candy bar on the bar top around in a half circle with his fingers. he shrugs, then lightly taps his fingertips twice on the counter, shifting his weight between where his arms lean against the bar. ]

Yeah. Yeah, we're good. [ he lifts his hand, scratches lightly at the edge of his jaw. ] We've been, uh. We've been soundproofing my room. Started yesterday.

[ the first room out of plans to do the whole house, but newt had insisted they start with thomas's room first and left no room for argument. really, though, that's all that's new. ]

[ Majima wasn't sure how it was earthly possible to come across sketchier than Thomas had delivering that last statement, like there was something somehow scurrilous about an activity that everyone here did out of survivalist necessity.

Okay. Right. Newt and Thomas were both soundproofing apparently only Thomas's room. Sure. ]

Sounds like a good idea.

[ Majima's hand went to the breast pocket of his suit coat -- only he remembered before he took out the carton that he probably shouldn't be smoking around teenagers. Or chickens.

Old habits died hard, though. He dropped his hand instead. ]

Hey, you mind if I ask somethin'? 'bout those cranks from your world.

[ alright, so thomas isn't the greatest at small talk. it's not as if there's ever really been any time in between trying to escape a maze full of monsters and trying to survive out in the scorch, to sit around and shoot the breeze with friends. it's also probably the first time in a long time that he hasn't had a whole lot of shit going on. only having a soundproofing project to talk about is actually some kind of miracle.

this is why he doesn't talk to adults.

thomas pauses, his curiosity piqued. what could majima want to know about the cranks that thomas hasn't already told him? he straightens up a little and nods. ]

... Sure. Go ahead.

You said those WCKD guys were lookin' for a cure. For the ones who'd already turned into cranks? Or more like a vaccine for folks who ain't that far along yet?

[ After seeing the Sound Eaters, it was hard to imagine anyone ever coming back from that transformation -- if they were, in fact, former humans as the prevailing theory seemed to hold.

Keeping that in mind, Majima had been assuming that the kindest way to deal with them was to find a way to kill them. He'd certainly rather die than ever end up like one of them.

But as Kara had said, perhaps the possibility was there. He couldn't see much hope for it... but maybe. ]

[ thomas wets his lips. he thinks of winston for a moment, of alby and ben and brenda, the latter of the four being the only one still alive. still herself. for now, anyway. ]

... Both. They're trying to find a way to kill the virus. Reverse the damage.

[ and then, for some reason, he thinks of teresa. about what she'd said to him on the cliff, how she thought betraying them all would be worth it because she'd lost someone to the virus, as if they all hadn't lost someone in some way or another. as if they hadn't handed winston a gun and left him to find peace while peace was still a thing to be found. as if she really believed wckd was still good, after everything they'd seen, everything they knew.

he clenches his jaw and pushes the thought of her away, coming back to the question at hand. ]

There's a serum. It's not a cure. It doesn't kill the virus, but it does help slow it down and keep it dormant for a while. It's just... not an easy thing to make.

[ and it also requires the blood of someone who's immune to the virus, and even then, the amount of blood it takes for how little serum can be made from it is... well, not ideal. ]

[ Hmm. Not exactly an ideal situation, there, but at least there was some sort of available countermeasure in Thomas's world.

Better than anything they currently had should they start turning into Sound Eaters. ]

Little while back, I got into conversation with a lady -- said it was only a matter of time before we figure things out.

That even if our situation is like what you're describin', where people start turning into those things, we might be able to lock 'em up in prison till someone could help 'em.

Didn't seem likely to me at the time. But since your world's got more in common with this one, thought I'd ask your perspective.

[ thomas is quiet for a few long moments, his gaze dropping slightly and shifting back and forth as he thinks. on the one hand, locking up the infected would keep both the community and the infected safe. on the other hand, thomas thinks of winston. they all knew what turning into a crank would do to a person, and winston had chosen death over letting the virus claim him. he'd chosen freedom over a prison.

if he's honest, thomas doesn't really like the sound of locking people up. brenda and jorge had chained up a bunch of cranks outside of their hideout, used them as guard dogs, and at the time, thomas hadn't really thought much of it. there really wasn't time to think about it at all, but he has time now, and the thought of chaining winston up like that just... he wouldn't be able to do it.

thomas looks up, studies majima for a moment. ]

What if nobody can help them? Wicked's been trying for years and all they've got to show for it is a bunch of dead kids in a bunch of different mazes. We— [ thomas cuts himself off for a second, because he can feel himself getting worked up, and he'd rather not do so in front of majima. he breathes out, tries again. ] We don't even know if that's what's actually happening here.

[ even if it does seem really likely. even if there's a lot of evidence to back up the theory. ]

Edited 2018-04-16 03:07 (UTC)

No. We don't.

All we got's a bunch of pieces. And not enough jail cells to hold us even if that's what's gonna go down.

[ Which was part of what made this situation so maddening. But then, that had been Majima's life lately: dealing with crises as they came, without even the benefit of the full picture.

Back home, he'd concentrated on what he knew, getting from day to day with one faction or the other breathing down his neck and not much time to think about other options. Here, there were just as few answers, but more time. Jury was still out on which was better. ]

Never thought I'd say this, but shit was a lot simpler back home.

[ thomas almost laughs, but he just doesn't have it in him to find humor or irony in any of this right now. he hates that they don't have answers, hates that he hasn't figured anything out yet, that everything is just a bunch of maybes and what ifs.

so instead of laughing, he just huffs a quiet breath through his nose, lifting one hand to drag his palm down over his mouth, his eyes slightly downcast as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. ]

Can't really say the same.

[ honestly, it just feels like a different kind of glade, like a maze of a different design with different monsters and different lies. sometimes, when things start to feel too familiar, too suspicious, he finds himself looking around for cameras. the gladers had ever found the ones in the glade in all the months and years that they'd been there. thomas has yet to find one here, either, though it's hard to say if that's a relief.

thomas lets his hand fall away from his chin, lowering it lightly against the bar top. he's gotten into the habit now of making as little noise as possible, being more aware of his movements. he glances up, finally, his expression a little unreadable. ]

If it was you — would you want to be locked up?

Edited 2018-04-18 00:55 (UTC)

No.

[ No hesitation, no dissembling, just a flat-out negative. Majima's expression now was completely serious. ]

No fuckin' way.

[ He'd spent more than enough time in prison, first that black ops shit and then living in Sotenbori in the Omi's gilded cage. It occurred to Majima that Reims, too, was a sort of prison, but at least it was one in which he was free to live or die as he pleased. With... one slightly complication, of course. ]

I'd rather --

[ take a bullet to the head, he nearly said, only the last time he'd said something like that (no matter how much he'd meant it), he'd upset Kara. Thomas probably wasn't as idealistic, but he still ought to temper some of that knee-jerk reaction. ]

There's no way I'd wanna risk bein' a danger to the people I care about. And tryin' to catch and hold anyone eats up resources that're stretched way too tight right now.

[ it's almost kind of sad that there isn't very much thomas hasn't seen or experience or been through outside of reims. he's dealt with being thrown into a place he doesn't belong, he's dealt with terrible monsters. he's walked away from a friend who deserved so much more, and listened as the gunshot echoed across the scorch.

majima doesn't have to finish that sentence for thomas to understand the gist of it. majima would rather die than live (if turning into a sound eater could even be considered living) and wait for something that may never come. it's the answer thomas expected from him. it's the answer he'd probably choose for himself, too, though it's hard to imagine giving up before he can get his friends to a safe haven. they come first. they always come first.

thomas's eyes flit back and forth between majima's, almost like he's contemplating something. trying to figure something out about him, or maybe just something about himself. after a moment, he just nods, slow and subtle. he breathes out quietly. ]

... Well. Let's just hope we got it really wrong.

[ he pauses for a moment, then shifts his weight off of his forearms as he straightens up. he reaches out, grabbing the candy bar off the bartop. ]

I'm... gonna head out. [ he lifts the chocolate a little, taking a couple backward steps. ] Thanks for the candy. Let me know if you lose the chicken again and need help rounding her up.

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