towerofanimus | Minor Recovery

Entry tags:

Minor Recovery

Characters: Rick and you!
Setting: Dorm floor 1, floor 60 (kitchen), floor 15 (workshop), and floor 48 (graveyard) respectively, from 3/7 to 3/9. Please specify when and where!
Format: Starting action-spam, will match.
Summary: The blonde man is slowly getting back into the swing of things after a very turbulent two months. Includes cooking, sewing, eventually leading to sadder times in the graveyard.
Warnings: Possibly descriptions of injury/death/emotional turmoil. Will update as needed.

Dorm Floor 1/Room 1-16 - Morning - Open

[The cat has been quiet for two months--hardly even made an appearance during the power issues of February, though even then the thoughts of his forms were unpleasantly absent. So it comes as no surprise to Rick that, upon waking up at the end of the first week of March, Rusty is very impatient to get back to patrolling his first-floor hallway territory. It must smell atrociously of those horrid monsters, the cat argues. Why must Rick insist on holding him back from what must be done?]

[Unfortunately, as much as Rick would like the feline to have his way (and hopefully shut up for a few minutes), even several weeks of intensive rest following his fight with Jason have not been enough to heal the blonde man of his wounds--particularly his crushed right hand. The retrieval units did a fine enough job of splinting it, but it hasn't improved very much...hopefully that will change soon.]

[Either way, walking around on a crippled paw does not sound especially helpful in the healing process, so convincing the cat otherwise is a tedious, but necessary process, which he is woken up particularly early to start on. Thankfully the rest of his roommates seem to be early risers as well, so Rick doesn't feel so bad about disturbing the peace when he slips out of bed and begins pacing the first floor dorms. Sure, Rusty can't mark them--but at least Rick is taking a look and making sure everything is in order.]

[It takes several hours to convince the cat that everything is okay. At that point, Rick can finally get on with his day.]

Floor 60 (Kitchen) - Afternoon - Open

[First things first--his work. Rick decides to tackle his cooking job for Reno's group before his Tower-appointed position in the morgue, partially because it's on the way down, partially because he's delaying what waits for him in the cold lockers (and outside of them, as the case may be), but mostly because he's put this task off the longest. This wasn't by choice, mind--he tried very hard last month, but ended up stuck in the fridge as a dinosaur and decided that wasn't the best thing to be doing, so he held off.]

[Now that he has the mental and physical stability to actually cook things, Rick gets into the swing of things with enthusiasm. The dishes he makes at first are simple, practical and will keep well, but as ingredients start running out he has to begin combining things. Suddenly, the line of prepared foods culminates in a pot of fragrant, hearty meat stew. It's entirely too much to keep for long, unfortunately; Rick can only hope that someone comes by to help him eat some while it's still fresh. Since passerby can probably smell it from the landing, attracting patrons should be easy enough.]

Floor 15 (Workshop) - Late Afternoon - Open

[There are many events that Rick's missed--not even in the last two months, but far longer. Unable to make presents for Christmas, missed birthdays, missed thanks...Rick isn't sure he'll ever be able to make up for his social missteps at this point, and the more he worries about them the more overwhelmed he feels about how far behind he is. It's occupied his mind for entirely too long now--it's about time he made some kind of dent.]

[At least once a day, Rick brings some fabric and a sewing kit from floor fifty-one to the workshop and dedicates several hours to fiddling with various ideas he has. By the ninth, a few items materialize: half-stuffed plushies of various forms, sturdy gloves lined with leather from the kitchen, several jackets and suits. Even with one hand delaying his progress, Rick works with surprising efficiency, completely oblivious to everything around him while he focuses his craft.]

Floor 48 (Graveyard) - Evening - Open

[Rick didn't realize just how many people had left while he was out of it until he gathered the nerve to visit the graveyard, as he had once made a habit of doing after Sertoria disappeared. Now each visit brings another familiar name, another slew of memories and a half-finished present left at the foot of their frosted graves...]

[He tries not to linger for too long, but it's hard. At times Rick finds himself drifting off standing up, lost in thought for the ones he's missed.]

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[The room is indeed a pile of early risers, as is evidenced by the redhead sitting crosslegged at the end of his bed, brushing his hair, that morning. Asch looks a little startled by the motion on the other side of the room, although he hides it reasonably well. He's clearly not used to having more than the one roommate again yet.

Rick gets an absent nod once he's recognized; Asch isn't much for greetings in general, and the morning isn't much different in that regard.]

[Asch, a quiet man, is greeting Rick, a man who can barely talk even if he wants to (especially if he wants to in most cases). Their conversation is going to be a dynamic one.]

[The friendly nod gets a similar one in return, although Rick's is hesitant, riddled with nervous blush like he's seen a bit too much. Even half-asleep, Rick notices when he causes people discomfort--Asch's start does not escape him.]

[He pauses at the edge of the bed, opens his mouth to apologize, but finds himself too anxious to break the silence. Rick remains in this awkward limbo for some time before he finally shakes his head and reaches for his glasses.]

[Don't worry, Rick. Asch isn't going to judge you... any more harshly than he does anyone else, at least.]

What? If there's something you want to say, say it.

[At least he's pretty honest about it when he gets judgmental.]

[Rick visibly flinches. Asch might be honest, but honesty doesn't make it hurt any less.]

...S-S-Sorry. [He nervously adjusts his glasses, using his reacquired sight to stare at a very interesting spot on the floor.] I-I d-didn't...d-d-didn't m-mean t-to...ah...

[The blonde man gestures, but fails to conjure the words he's looking for.]

...n-never mind.

[...Yeah, Rick, he's not getting it. There's a fundamental misunderstanding going on here, because not only does Asch Dislike Apologies, there is literally nothing in this interaction that he views as worth apologizing over.

Polite people just don't make sense.]

Don't apologize for something stupid.

[But Rick's apologizing for his own actions! Does that mean he's stupid?]

[...Well, yes, Rick has to agree with Asch's obvious assumption that he is pretty dumb. Downtrodden, quietly kicking himself for his stupidity, Rick slowly stands and shuffles towards the door. Asch must find him really tiresome...best leave him alone for a while.]

[As much as Phaeris would like to continue searching for his family, even his endurance will give out at some point - especially in the face of hunger. The fact that he was half-exhausted when he woke up didn't help, either.

As he passes by the kitchen, the scent of the stew gets his attention, and after several seconds of deliberation, he finally caves to his stomach's insistence that something be put in it. He rationalizes that if he keeps going, hunger will cause him to make mistakes that he cannot afford to make.

So he approaches Rick's work area in all his tall blue-dude-ness, and stoically looks the area over.]

...are you running a restaurant?

[Oh--wasn't expecting someone! Rick starts slightly and begins to turn on his heel.]

A-Ah--n-no, not--

[His jaw goes slack.]

[...Wait--no, Rick, it's not nice to stare, he reminds himself. Remember Feferi and Amelia. Perfectly reasonable aliens and mutants, respectively. Which, Rick decides after the moment's shock wears off, he isn't actually conflicted about--just caught off-guard. He had some warning in the others' cases. A little time to brace for the unusual.]

[After a full half-minute of awkward gawking, Rick has had sufficient time to prepare himself. His reaction is still not very dignified: a heavy blush from his ears to his neck, a clumsy shuffling of his glasses and feet before he quickly nods a greeting and turns back to the soup.]

...S-S-Sorry. J-Just...um...c-c-cooking...

Mm.

[There's several quiet moments of consideration before Phaeris nods sagely. His reactions appear primarily neutral, no movements that could convey hostility of any sort.]

Phaeris' appearance is alarming, it seems. He does not mean to do so - Phaeris intends no harm.

[Well, Rick has never been terribly subtle, so he's not too surprised that Phaeris caught him. He sighs in defeat but doesn't turn around, too terrified of the look of judgement he's probably getting to face it.]

...I-I know. I'm...I j-just...s-s-sorry.

[The various excuses he concocts are not satisfying enough to work, so Rick omits them. Although, now that he thinks about it, he would have noticed such an odd individual by now if he'd been wandering around before...]

...A-Are you...new?

[There's not any judgement - his race is pretty uncommon back home, so he's a bit used to being intimidating.]

Phaeris needs no apology - both here and at home, Phaeris tends to stick out. And yes, Phaeris is new.

[Neutrality helps--or would help, if Rick could read Phaeris's expression well enough to gauge if he's actually forgiving him or just being polite. Either case makes the blonde man equally unnerved.]

[He nods, biting his lip. There was...a plan, after figuring out if he was new. Wasn't there? Rick's mind flounders for a few moments while he stares blankly at the floor.]

[When the awkward pause ends and Rick finally gathers the nerve to look up: ]

...S-Soup?

[Thankfully, Phaeris is fairly patient most of the time, so he waits until Rick finally speaks up again - though the single word is a bit confusing. He tilts his head to the side just a touch.]

Is soup what Phaeris smells?

[Phaeris hasn't had soup before? Rick is just about as confused as he is.]

A-Ah...yes! [Looking a little flustered, the blonde man searches around the counter for a bowl--ends up finding a mug instead, but that will do just fine.] ...W-Would you l-l-like some?

[Maybe Phaeris has, maybe he hasn't - the culinary habits of his people are a pretty big mystery. If he has, though, it has been literal centuries since the last time.]

Phaeris...will partake, yes. It has been too long since Phaeris has had food made by another.

[Ryoji is wandering from floor to floor, a little lost in thought. He's not at all thinking about the usual issues, however, but rather panicking about... something.

He seems to brighten immediately when he sees the plush toys, and hurries onto the workshop floor only to find a familiar face.]

Rick-san! You made all of these?

[oh my god they're so cute he wants them so bad]

[While Ryoji might be relieved to see Rick here, the blonde man seems almost panicked when his young friend starts investigating the exact pile that Rick hoped he wouldn't catch sight of. A particular plush--what looks like an orange bear at this point in its construction--is quickly grabbed and shoved deep into the pile as Ryoji approaches, hopefully before notices.]

[His recovery is, likewise, not terribly graceful.]

Uh--y-yeah! Um-- [Rick shuffles halfway between Ryoji and the pile of stuffed animals in a vain attempt to hide them behind his back.] --j-just--f-fun p-p-project, r-right? Ah. H-Heh.

[Ryoji doesn't seem to notice the plush being shoved into the pile, and it doesn't seem like he's about to start digging through the pile. He just observes the pile... and Rick's expression, eventually frowning a little.]

Yeah, it does seem fun... Are you bothered by it? I mean, I don't think it's weird or anything.

[Minato had been in sewing club, after all. Why should Ryoji be bothered by Rick making stuffed toys? ...Especially when they are very cute, huggable stuffed toys...]

[Rick briskly shakes his head, which is already starting to flush deep red as he realizes how transparent he's being. Of course Ryoji suspects what he's up to! No use hiding the inevitable, right?]

A-Ah--no. I'm... [Sigh.] ...They're p-presents. A, um...s-surprise. [That includes one for Ryoji, but Rick is positive he's caught onto that already.] C-Can...can you k-keep this a s-secret? U-Until they're d-d-done, I m-mean.

A surprise? That's really sweet of you! Don't worry, I promise I can keep this a secret. Who are you making them all for?

[Ryoji may be suspicious now that he knows they're presents, but... he's trying not to get his hopes up. Even if they're really cute and he'd love to keep one on his bed...]

[Rick's expression transitions smoothly from flustered to bashful, blush held constant between them.]

Th--Thank you. [He stares at his shuffling feet.] Ah...m-many p-people. I...I n-needed to d-do this f-f-for a...a-a w-while, a-and...they d-d-deserve s-something n-n-nice.

[NOT LOOKING AT RYOJI]

There are lots of people here that deserve something nice...

[But that's gotten Ryoji thinking, so much that he ignores Rick's avoidance of eye contact before suddenly brightening, catching on to some idea.]

H-Hey! Any chance I could hang around here with you and see if I can pick up some sewing from you? I... actually was thinking about making a gift for someone who deserves it too.

[What a convenient change of subject! Rick grabs onto that hook without hesitation.]

--O-Of c-course! I, um... [He starts shuffling through his sewing supplies, mostly just to keep his hands busy while he thinks.] ...I-I c-c-could h-help, if y-you'd like. C-Can I a-ask, w-what...?

Well, I was thinking a scarf. It's probably pretty simple, and good for me to learn that instead of trying something complicated right off the bat.

[Plus, you know. It'd match his. He's cheesy like that.]

[Rick nods vigorously. Yes, good. Scarves are good.]

[His flailing arms finally manage to gather up a sufficient lump of sewing needles and thread. Feeling a bit more confident in this comfortable environment, Rick chances a wry smile.]

...C-Can I a-ask...w-who f-for?

O-Oh! Um...

[Ryoji turns a bright shade of red and fidgets with his scarf, chuckling nervously.]

...Y-Yukiko. She's my girlfriend, you know, and White Day is coming up... she was really good to me on Valentine's Day and I need to make it up to her.

[That is legitimate surprise coloring Rick's face a similar shade of red. Yukiko, huh? How nice that they have each other!]

[Rick nods again, smile brightening.] I u-understand. Sh--She'll l-like this. [Tools collected, Rick hands Ryoji a spool and needle while he untangles one for himself.] Do y-you h-have a, ah...c-color in m-mind? P-Pattern?

((ooc: I APOLOGIZE for all the sad coming at these two lately.))

[Ion wasn't surprised to find Rick already in the graveyard when he came himself. He had never been terribly fond of the floor; it always made him so full of regret, so sad and so angry. It made him feel things he never thought he'd have the opportunity to feel, and they were things he didn't want to feel. But now that Anise was gone, he had upped the time he spent on that floor. He could justify only paying his respects for the lost souls every-so-often with all the others...but Anise. She deserved someone to pray for her.

No. He owed it to her to be there, praying for her. He owed it to her to place his hands on her grave and wish her the strength and courage to survive on that dead, hopeless Auldrant. It was the least Ion could do, after the things he had thought about her so soon before she vanished.

He is a bit surprised, however, to find Rick still lingering when Ion himself gets up to leave. The boy sighs softly as he makes his way over to his older friend. Ion had been planning on giving the blonde space, but it had been long enough that he found the justification to speak up on the matter.]

Pardon my interrupting. [When he speaks up, he does so in that soft-yet-steady voice of his.] But...there's only so much that can be done in mourning.

((shoosh, no words, only feels))

[Rick stands before the grave of Saber this evening, hands in his pockets and face set in that same, pensive blankness he wore when Ion arrived there. She was a friend, but one that Rick wanted to get to know better--it pains him how few memories he has of her, yet her bright, pleasant demeanor makes the few he has easier to dwell on for long stretches of time. Like the chorus of a favorite song, played over and over again until it finally lost its meaning. Her grace with a sword's strike next to the pleasant ring of her laughter...]

[Ion snaps him out of his reverie. Rick visibly starts, shoulders jerking back out of a slump; he hasn't caught what Ion actually said.]

--W-Wha--s-s-sorry...

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Minor Recovery

[1-16, whichever morning]

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Kitchen, assuming on the 8th.

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Floor 15, the 7th unless that doesn't work for you!

7th works fine!

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March 9th, Floor 48

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