Mitch Douglas.

C. ANDREWS​:

[Obviously. Yes. She doesn’t flinch, because he sounds… well, as relaxed about it as he could. If their situations had been reversed, she probably would have done all the same things as Mitch. When you’re in love it’s easy to convince yourself that these things don’t matter, and the practicalities are just boring little hurdles. But the truth is that when it comes to major life decisions – like kids – it’s unlikely that anyone will change their mind, and unless that happens, resentment builds.

It’s baffling to Cambie, the way Adelle had behaved. It was cruel, of course, but every time Cambie sees Mitch with his students she’s simply overwhelmed by how sweet he is with them. They look up to him, and he cares so deeply. It’s obvious he’d be an incredibly loving father, and that it would make him so, so happy. Even if Cambie wasn’t keen on motherhood, she’s sure her mind would be changed by virtue of wanting to see Mitch be that happy.

He certainly doesn’t hesitate to jump right in with the awful dad jokes. Cambie chuckles; she feels so warm, and safe, with his arms around her and the ready familiarity of his jokes.] 

Well, I’d hope so. It’s the prerogative of every father to make awful dad jokes. If you’re not making your kids groan and roll their eyes on the daily, you’re doing it wrong. [She’d certainly pretended to grump about it whenever her own dad had called her Bambi. Obviously she’d give anything to hear him say it just one more time now.

It’s an exciting thought, though, being the parent. Doing the nurturing, making the bad jokes. Now isn’t the right time, but that time will come and Cambie can’t wait to share all the love in her heart when it does.] 

B. LINDQVIST​:

[The next few days after Kaiser’s death passes in a blur. Bode was thankful no riots broke out, if anything there was little to no fall out. Nothing physical anyway. The unrest laid on the tongues of the infected, a doubt that grew and clouded over their heads like a thunderstorm. No one believed Kaiser died of natural causes. Bode himself has yet to decide what to make of his sudden death. There were too many unknown variables at play to make heads or tails of anything. Of one thing Bode was certain of, he couldn’t sit on his ass and wait for someone else to die.

The few infected who believed Quinn and the NWRF were making themselves known and pliable to the doctors, they wanted a cure for their infections and they wanted it now. Whatever propaganda Quinn was slinging around before Bode arrived was finally hitting its mark and in a very visible way. He felt inclined to slow that process down as much as possible, and if anything, prayed he could dissuade it altogether.

That’s exactly why Bode stood in Mitch Douglas’s classroom, apple in hand. It wasn’t particularly easy getting fruit, much less something as fresh as an apple, but here he was, setting the red jewel on the man’s desk like a serpent taunting eve.] Good afternoon, Mr. Douglas.

[He smiles at the other, he’s all white teeth and sparkling eyes.] I apologize for not coming by sooner to introduce myself. I’m Bode Lindqvist the newest trade representative. [He takes a seat on one of the empty tables they repurposed as desks for the children, the metal squeaks under his weight.] I was making my rounds introducing myself to other Elites and your name kept coming up. They all speak rather highly of you.

[Bode made it a habit of eavesdropping on conversations, mostly because asking questions outright was a risky thing. Questions can lead back to you, meanwhile remaining quiet keeps you anonymous. The majority of the Colony and it’s population held Douglas in high regard, especially among the infected. When he first knew of his transfer to 22 he read up as much information as possible about Belvedere, there wasn’t much of anything in the system but what little there was had Mitch written all over it. He found it difficult to believe this man didn’t have his hands in the honey pot. He knew something, or someone that could put him in contact with the rebellion.

He just had to play his cards right and not get caught.]

[[ Mitch is not typically so oblivious to new arrivals, even outside of his own house. He has and always will go out of his way to be a welcoming presence at the colony, something that feels like more and more an act of defiance after his demotion and the further the NWRF burrows into their high ranks. It doesn’t stop him, though; he doesn’t see the danger in making himself available, even if there are those who are welcome to misinterpret.

It’s been a little different this week, though, when so much of Mitch’s time has been focused on damage control of the current population rather than the effort needed to welcome those who are new. He feels more guilty about it than usual, and probably than he should, if only because this is a confusing time in the colony to be completely new. Mitch can see it on the faces of some of the recent arrivals; they don’t quite understand what Kaiser was to this place, for better or worse. They’re only now hearing the stories, exaggerated like urban legends. Mitch would say they’re blowing Kaiser out of proportion, but for the most part, they’re not. The stories are as large as the man was, and equally as potent.

All of that is to say, he may not have had the time to reach out to Bode yet personally, but he does know who he is. New Elites are of particular interest, and Bode fills a particularly important spot — one he likely flexed in procurement of the glistening apple now set on Mitch’s desk, bordering on cliche that makes him smile. ]]

Mr. Lindqvist, [[ Mitch answers easily, standing for a moment to reach over the desk and offer a firm handshake even as a moment ago, he’d waved away the praise. ]] A pleasure, I’m sure, I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance to connect before now. I hope you’ve been settling in okay? And your brother? [[ Family was, of course, always of note to Mitch. It was always a quiet relief for him to know there were those who could still keep family close. He’d made his own family here, and there was no understating the importance of the support system. ]]

D. SPECKTER​:

[Rage was running through her body at top speed, but the intense, unwavering focus that was going with it was on the remains of a chair in the corner of the room. Not once in her life had she experienced this feeling. Her mind was unclouded, she could think so clearly but with such venomous thoughts, heart racing. With eyes fixed on the ground, she lifted another piece of the smashed wood and broke it again, and again, and again.]

[What could she do? Who could she talk to? It was almost embarrassing that she’d lived here so long with such ignorance. Maybe someone wanted to hit the NWRF where it would hurt just as much as she did. They deserved it. Infected people being considered tools to be used? Dot knew that damage had to be done, it was simply about how to do it. How to get away with it.]

[A piece of wood floated in the air as a voice called out to her. As soon as the realisation of who it belonged to set in, she continued her actions. Dot didn’t want to take her anger out on Mitch, he hadn’t done anything wrong, and odds were he was just as upset. Then again, she couldn’t read minds.] No. I’m not. 

.

[[ Mitch took a couple of steps into the room, eyes flicking from Dot, to the floating piece of wood, to… what was presumably once a chair. He’s dealt with a number of different grief outlets today — all five stages, it felt like — and he was no more afraid of Dot’s anger than he was of her. ]]

Okay, well… do you mind if I sit while I eat? Because I haven’t had the time since breakfast. [[ He keeps his tone light and casual as ever, crossing to sit at the edge of the bed next over from Dot’s, kitty-corner so as not to disturb her if she’d rather sit in silence. Picking up the sandwich he’d made out of whatever was available, Mitch takes a bite and sighs out, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he chews.

C. WHITMER​:

[It’s vindicating to hear a teacher say standardised testing is garbage – not that Kip needs anyone to back up his opinions, but because it’s nice to know the educational system is fucking annoying for pupils and teachers alike to navigate. In a way he enjoys his classes more now because the teachers have more freedom to construct their lessons as they like, but he does still feel stifled by them a lot of the time.] 

Totally agree. Fish, tree, etc. [He means the quote about everybody being a genius, but if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree you’ll think it’s stupid. He just lacks the energy to fully verbalise it. The juice is definitely helping him feel less woozy, but he’s pretty sure ultimately today’s going to be a bit of a write off.

The way Mitch phrases his question is nice. What field were you in? It’s very professional, not talking down to an inexperienced intern but rather respecting whatever path Kip had put himself on.] 

Game design, mostly focusing on C++ and Java. I was pretty interested in making apps, because that was more accessible since not everyone had expensive consoles or PCs, and that’s probably the direction I would eventually have gone, but I ended up interning at EB Games before the end working on the sequel for Moonlight Prince. Or, y’know, doing the boring debugging for the people working on it anyway.

[[ ‘Fish, tree, etc.’ Mitch smiles and nods; he’d always liked that quote, and so had Adelle. As an art teacher she had a tendency to get down on her own perceived lack of knowledge, most often when Mitch would wander off on some rambling scientific tangent. But she knew the most intricate things about art history, the composition and color theory of paintings, the best mediums to use for particular effects. Everyone had a niche, they just had to find it.

Kip had apparently found his before D-Day, which Mitch found impressive for his age when he’d witnessed so many teens wandering through the college admissions process with a lackadaisical ‘I’ll figure it out when I get there.’ He didn’t blame them — having to decide the path of your entire future probably shouldn’t fall on an underdeveloped prefrontal cortex, but that was a rant that got tucked securely in next to further opinions on standardized testing. ]]

C. ANDREWS​:

[Still new to navigating relationships, Cambie had been worried he might look at her like she’d gone crazy. It’s too early to be thinking about these things, and she sounds like a psychotic, needy partner for even asking. But of course, he doesn’t. He understands. Better than most, probably, because how differently would things have gone with Adelle if the topic had been broached sooner?

Once you’re committed to a relationship, it can be easy to kid yourself that opposing opinions on such important topics won’t matter. They do, though, in the end. Relaxing, Cambie smiles softly and rests her head on Mitch’s shoulder with half shut eyes. He’s changed her opinion on adoption in a big way over the years. In the past Cambie had always been a blood-is-thicker sort of person, and thought that if and when she had kids she’d only be able to love them properly if they were her blood.

But after knowing Mitch as she does, and having seen the love he had for his adoptive parents, she’s learned that you really can choose your family.] 

Adopting is probably a better idea these days, yeah. For multiple reasons. [A lot of kids have been left with no parents, and the Infection thing is… complex. Cambie doesn’t really believe the NWRF will still be in power in a year or two, but she would absolutely fight them if they tried to come anywhere near her kid. She resents them enough for what they do to Mitch, but he’s an adult and she trusts that he’ll push back if the testing ever really crosses a boundary for him.] 

Okay, good. Obviously it’s a conversation for a later date, but I just wanted to know if we’re on the same page. So many families got broken during D-Day… it really would be nice to start a new one, and bring a little bit of hope into the world. D’you reckon Hope would be too cheesy a name for a girl?

[She grins sleepily, mostly joking. Cambie does like old fashioned names like that, Hope and Grace and Faith, but she’s not naming her and Mitch’s kids yet. Not out loud, anyway.]

[[ ‘I just wanted to know if we’re on the same page.’ Mitch smiles to himself and nods, a gesture that translates easily into bringing his cheek to rest against Cambie’s head. ]] No, it’s a good question to ask. Obviously.

[[ There’s a dry amusement and a truth to his words that only Cambie would understand, of course. She remains the only person he’s spoken to in-depth on the exact reasons he and Adelle split, and it’s something of a miracle he can even joke about it at all. It wasn’t as if he and Adelle hadn’t ever talked about the topic, naturally, but Mitch had been too wishy-washy, expected too much of a change of heart when he should’ve realized there’d never be one. At least now… he doesn’t need to look for that. They both know what they want, and those wants align. Sure, they might have to fight the NWRF (what else is new) and a dour world at large to get it — the family they want — but that feels like a much less daunting option than changing the mind of a partner whose mind doesn’t want to be changed. ]]

Hope, [[ Mitch repeats with slightly raised eyebrows, trying it out through a smile. He nods slowly, hand smoothing down Cambie’s arm and up again, thumb brushing an arc against her shoulder. ]] No, I don’t think so. I like it, honestly.

C. WHITMER​:

[Oh no, Kip thinks, Mitch really is charming. He’d pretty much expected it, which is pretty much why he’s managed to avoid any extended conversations with the man thus far. Kip still has that high school instinct to not be too nice to teachers, for no discernible reason beyond obstinacy.

He also realises, with a pang of soft melancholy, that Mitch is a very paternal reminder. In the last six years Kip has adjusted, more or less, to the loss of his parents, but Mitch’s nature brings back a whisper of that grief. It stings, but in a sweet way that feels vaguely medicinal in Kip’s current fragile state. He wonders if, through the lens of his Empatheia, Kip’s dad would feel like Mitch: warm, interested, pale threads of concern. Would it be tinged with the frustration Kip so often inspired in his parents?] 

Very diplomatic answer. [The NWRF were stupid to have demoted Mitch. The upset of removing him as head of Calyset far outweighed the benefits of negating any possible waves he might cause. Kip stretches his legs out, wriggling around on the infirmary cot to make himself more comfortable. He’s not going anywhere for a while yet so he wants Mitch to stay and keep him company.] So if the grades are important on paper only, what are your thoughts on standardised testing? Because I always thought it was kind of bullshit, but I never had a real job unless you count interning, which I don’t because you’re just a glorified grunt, so what do I know.

[It always seemed to Kip that locking someone in a room with no resources for two hours and telling them to produce a piece of work was in no way an accurate representation of their intellectual or professional abilities, but everything seemed to ride on a person’s ability to do well in that sort of setting anyway.]

Oh, standardized testing is garbage. [[ Mitch won’t mince words, apparently, but he still falls short of echoing Kip’s declaration of ‘bullshit’. Force of habit. ]] Standardized testing suggests the existence of a standardized student, which obviously couldn’t be further from the truth. [[ He folds his arms over his chest and shrugs. ]]

Why that was something we never managed to change about the school system will always be a mystery to me. At most it may be useful to draw some baseline figures, but at worst it only succeeded in gatekeeping. [[ And Mitch won’t even get started on the standardized tests people had to pay for, or he might get genuinely annoyed.

When Kip points out so casually that he never had a ‘real job,’ Mitch suffers an inevitable little pang of regret. He’d gotten to live so much of his life before the sky fell, and while he’d undoubtedly still had — still does have — plenty of time left, there wasn’t necessarily much more he’d intended to explore. So many of the younger survivors had barely gotten their feet under them before the whole rug was swept out. ]]

@dot-speckter​​

[[ Mitch hasn’t had a lot of time to process — properly process — what happened, and if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that’s not exactly an accident. He hasn’t given himself a lot of time to process.

He’s spent most of the day as he usually does in times of tension, crisis, heightened emotion: helping everyone else work through it. As soon as the message went out Mitch dismissed his current class and canceled the rest, setting up in his office for a veritable revolving door; a number were his students, but most were Calysets. If they hadn’t felt entirely comfortable taking their issues to Nouka before, the growing rumors that the NWRF killed Kaiser Bahr certainly aren’t going to help.

By the time dinner rolls around, Mitch is well and truly drained. He shows up to the dining hall long enough to get a plate and a glass of water but ends up taking them back to Calyset. As someone who treads the line well between introvert and extravert, he now needs the time to recharge.

Glancing down the dorm hallway, though, he notices a door ajar and naturally can’t help himself from one last check-in. He’s glad he does; Dot, apparently, has eschewed dinner as well. ]]

C. ANDREWS​:

[’It’s a little greedy’, but she doesn’t feel chastised. The familiar warmth of his fingers across the back of her neck send a shiver down her spine; the way he squeezes feels possessive. Or maybe that’s just Cambie, feeling possessed, feeling that only Mitch’s hand could be so at home there.

He’s so fiercely gentle. Sometimes he responds in unexpected ways to her un-subtle come-ons, and she might have thought it would make her feel insecure. But in fact, the way she makes herself so available to him and he makes it clear that he doesn’t need sex, he just needs her, actually makes her feel more cherished than if he played along. It’s a funny balance, that.] 

I know. And ditto. [It almost makes her not want to ask things of him, because she really does believe he couldn’t say no to her. She holds his heart in her hands; but it’s not unfair, really, because he holds hers. And she trusts him to be gentle with it.

Even though it’s a sentiment they’ve both expressed countless times over the years, it takes on a rosy new thrill with the changed nature of their relationship. Cambie is so, so relieved that it was a change for the better. Taking another sip of wine, Cambie swirls the liquid thoughtfully in the glass.] Do you ever – sorry, this is going to sound absolutely mad – I don’t mean any time soon, I’m just asking hypothetically, at some point down the road, where you see life going sort of thing. Do you ever think about kids?

[She knows he used to, and what a point of contention it was with Adelle. But she doesn’t know if things have changed, because God knows the world has. Obviously Cambie’s not thinking of anything immediate, but it’s also important to her that they’re moving forward with similar expectations. She’s heard of too many couples not addressing this until years down the line and it leading to terrible arguments. She would just prefer to know sooner rather than later if Mitch wants different things in his future.]

[[ Mitch isn’t necessarily surprised that Cambie asks; it’s something they’ve touched on before, mostly in a much broader, hypothetical sense. Cambie is the only one who knows it was the main sticking point between him and his ex-wife, what had ultimately led to the steady crumbling of their sixteen-year marriage. Obviously, it’s important to discuss this sort of thing earlier on.

‘We’re teachers, darling, we already have so many kids,’ Adelle would say, laughing with a lightness Mitch never felt about the subject. He’d acquiesce because it didn’t seem worth the fight; he knew he wouldn’t change her mind, no matter how much he disagreed with the sentiment. It wasn’t that he didn’t consider his students his children, it simply wasn’t the same. It’d been enough for Adelle, but not for him.

Just like teaching had filled some of that hole for a while before D-Day, so too had being head of Calyset — until that was taken away from him. Mitch is back to trusting teaching to fill the void, but it doesn’t always do the trick. He still thinks about it, still wants. ]]

Yeah, [[ he admits, smile soft and voice softer when he nods. ]] I do. The thoughts get more complicated, maybe, but they’ve never really… left. [[ Bringing a new child into this world feels both insurmountable and imperative. He knows there are only controls against new children because they don’t yet understand the genetics of Infections. The scientist in him is in reluctant agreement. Repopulating the Earth is important, but so too is understanding all the angles of what they’d be bringing children into. Subjecting them to. A baby with telekinesis is only charming in theory. ]]

C. WHITMER​:

Oh man, soulmates really do exist. [Kip intones with dry amusement. A beige food eating math nerd does sound like someone he’d get on well with. His parents always despaired of his bland food choices, since the Whitmers were, as a family, fond of spice and flavour. But hey, if they didn’t want him growing up with the most beige taste in food, they shouldn’t have Westernised him so much.

He gives in to a bit of a grin at Mitch’s comment on taking certain tidbits to the grave, whether he wants them or not. Kip’s too-cool attitude rarely holds up, especially in the face of people like Mitch who so very clearly have everyone’s best interests at heart.] 

That sounds incredibly ominous. I’m now going to have to ponder the most cursed facts I’ve ever learned so that I can share them with you, but I’ll have to get back to you on that. Brain’s not working at full capacity right now. Something to look forward to, eh? Hey, what do you mean ‘favourite’ students? I thought teachers didn’t have favourites.

[Actually Kip knows full well that they do have favourites, and that he’d decidedly not been one of them. Being good at the coursework wasn’t nearly enough to make up for his attitude. He flies a bit more under the radar now, but he does still push back more than he probably should, if he cared about being anyone’s favourite. Fortunately, he doesn’t.]

A threat to tell me new and interesting facts? Oh, no, [[ Mitch intones flatly but with an unavoidable grin, flattening his hand against his chest in an exaggerated pearl-clutch. ]] Joke’s on you, I like all the weird things people tell me. [[ As far as Mitch is concerned, there’s no such things as a ‘bad’ fact. ]] Maybe there are some that are… [[ He trails off, obviously picking his words carefully. ]] Unsavory. But I’d be a bit of a garbage science enthusiast if I didn’t always think that more information was better than not.

[[ Ignorance doesn’t get anybody anywhere — the NWRF are living proof of that, Mitch thinks dryly but opts to keep to himself. Their testing is the reason Kip is here to begin with, and while it might help morale to spend some time ragging on their mutual enemy-of-sorts, Mitch just can’t find that sort of conversation productive.

C. ANDREWS​:

[She loves when Mitch does his overly-earnest thing, because she really can believe that he’s offended at her lack of devotion to the scientific method. His passion has always been the thing – one of the things – that draws her to him. He loves what he does, and he loves his pupils, and Cambie loves watching him love it. There’s nothing as enticing as seeing someone participate in something they’re truly passionate about.

A lot of people are tired, worn out from D-Day, but Mitch carries on teaching with all the vigor and love that he presumably always has. Maybe it’s not obvious to everyone because he is quiet, but Cambie sees it.] 

Sorry, I suppose I find scientists distracting. It’s a good thing I don’t have to take your classes, actually, I’d learn absolutely nothing. To be fair, though, can’t I want scientific progress and the ability to extort rewards from you at the same time? Or is that greedy?

Mm… [[ Mitch feigns consideration, but the pause doesn’t have a lot of weight to it when he still can’t quite suppress the smile on his lips. There probably won’t ever be a moment that a little thrill doesn’t run through him at the subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) ways Cambie affirms her affections for and attractions to him. There certainly won’t ever be a moment when he doesn’t consider himself immensely lucky simply to have her in his life in any capacity — nevermind like this, nestled comfortably in pillows and blankets in the privacy of his suite, lit only by candles and resolutely ignoring any of the issues outside of that locked door. ]]

It’s a little greedy, [[ he finally confirms, but not without the same slow smile to match. Mitch’s hand withdraws only briefly, and only so he can trace his fingertips across the back of Cambie’s neck, brushing her hair aside so he can rest his hand at the base of her neck with a warmly affectionate squeeze. ]] But I’ll allow it. You’re always allowed to be greedy with me.

C. WHITMER​:

I would not. [Kip agrees.] I was twelve once. [He says this with absolute gravity, as if twelve was a terribly long time ago and not less than a decade. Man, life had been good then. Kip really hadn’t appreciated how good he’d had it, but if he could go back to being a coddled little pre-teen, he absolutely would. He’d been so hellbent on progress and independence that he forgot to value a lot of really valuable things in his life.

From the expression on Mitch’s face, Kip is going to guess he’s dealt with overzealous lab techs too, and is pissed about it. Must really suck for him, actually, because when he was head of Calyset he might have been in a position to do… something, but now he just sort of has to watch. Then again, Cambie’s still head of house and he’s seen how she struggles to make her voice heard, so maybe it wouldn’t make much difference.] 

Ah, nineteenth century LaCroix. [Kip considers the possibilities of toast water, and finds that he doesn’t totally hate it.] I know you’re telling me that because it sounds awful, but honestly? Doesn’t sound too bad. When I was a kid, I would exclusively eat fries, chicken nuggets, and Lay’s salted chips. Specifically Lay’s, no other brands, and if those items weren’t available I just wouldn’t eat. Maybe ghost toast would’ve been a good middle step to introduce me to new foods. [He pauses, then regards Mitch with a probing look.] Why do you know about toast water?

[Kip knows all sorts of interesting things, but history had always sort of bored him to tears so he hadn’t learned much beyond what was necessary for school. As a consequence he always finds it bizarre when people have gone the extra mile to learn about it. He’s also not sure why he told Mitch about his picky eating as a kid, because it had actually been a really scary time for his parents – it’d been diagnosed as ARFID, and he’d eventually grown out of it alongside several intolerances and allergies, but it was certainly trying for all involved while it was ongoing. There’s just something about Mitch that invites confidence.]

[[ ‘Doesn’t sound too bad.’ Mitch's initial expression of dubiousness mixes with a hint of distaste, but it smooths over into understanding as Kip continues. ]] You know, I had a student once who couldn’t eat anything but beige foods. [[ It’d been a struggle to get the school district to understand; either the parents were called into question for the nutritional quality of what they’d packed her, or she was at odds with the cafeteria staff when a packed lunch wasn’t an option.

There had been a number of times Mitch had let her eat in her classroom, sometimes to avoid the judgement of her peers and sometimes because he kept a few things she felt comfortable eating squirreled away in his teacher’s closet. He remembers speaking at length with the girl’s parents and learning the ins and outs of her autism in order for him to enact changes at the school to better support her, and others like her. She’d ended up in one of the best math PhD programs in the country. ]] Brilliant mathematician. [[ This seems relevant to Kip — moreso than the food preferences, if he’d grown out of his — knowing that he won the academic award at the ceremony, even if he’d seemed less-than-whelmed about it. ]] If ever she shows up here, I’m sure the two of you can make an excellent case for toast water in the meal rotation.

[[ When asked why he even knows about toast water, Mitch smiles and shrugs. ]] Twelve year-olds are also crammed full of fascinating historical tidbits. At least, my favorite ones usually are. [[ Mitch had always appreciated the more precocious students, both for the obvious reasons that they were a delight to teach and because they simply reminded him of himself. Maybe it was one of the few facets of his life where he allowed himself a hint of ego. ]]

C. WHITMER​:

[Mitch is one of the few Elites that Kip actually kind of trusts. Not because they’ve ever had much to do with one another, but because he’s a math teacher and Kip has a sort of instinct towards mathematical minds. It helps that the guy reminds him of his dad – he probably reminds everyone of their dad.

Like, if Kip had arrived a few years earlier when puberty was still wreaking havoc on him, Mitch would have been the one Kip went to with questions and concerns about his squeaky voice or unsettling bodily changes. As it is, Kip is just too old to have really needed Mitch in any way, so he just sort of appreciates him from a distance. Anti-authoritarian as he tends to be, Kip isn’t really interested in antagonising people like Mitch. He’s not an ‘authority figure’, as such, he really does seem to just be a guy that wants to help people out.] 

You mean they got the shits? [Kip supplies helpfully, with an amused glint in his eye. Mitch’s tact was unnecessary but funny.] Hope cholera’s not making a comeback, I didn’t have that on my post-apocalyptic problems bingo card. I’m fine, just… got dizzy. You know how bloodthirsty those lab techs are.

[He shrugs it off, because Kip hates being seen as weak. Being young, and small, and baby-faced, means he seems to get infantilised a lot and he really resents people going ga-ga just because he got a little woozy. Like, the world ended, everyone’s dead, life blows. What’s a little dizzy spell here or there? Grow up.]

[[ Kip’s bluntness prompts a grin; that’s what Mitch gets for trying to sugarcoat, even with best intentions. ]]

Vomiting, actually. You’d be surprised how much one little twelve-year-old can manage to house. [[ He pauses, then shrugs. ]] Or maybe you wouldn’t.

[[ Mitch doesn’t know much about Caelan, which probably isn’t a surprise; he arrived nearly alongside the NWRF, and despite Mitch’s best efforts to know just about everyone who walks through these walls, there’s been plenty of upheaval since last summer that’s gotten in the way. He doesn’t know if he has family, siblings, who he might’ve grown up with. Mitch suppresses an inevitable feeling of having fallen short, when he needs to be realistic with himself and how much of this community he can actually connect with.

His lips thin when Kip mentions how ‘bloodthirsty’ the lab techs are, largely because he can’t disagree. Mitch crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head, taking a half-lean against the next cot over. ]] Mm. They do love a good blood sample, [[ Mitch agrees dryly. He nearly offers to look into the chore rotation and see if he can get Kip a break, but Kip seems the type who wouldn’t appreciate that, already trying to downplay what it is that put him here. Mitch won’t put him on the spot feeling like he has to accept or refuse. ]]

C. ANDREWS​:

[He looks shocked for about half a second before he schools his expression into something more scholarly. It’s something Cambie finds incredibly endearing about Mitch – when he’s taken off guard by these sort of comments, it doesn’t seem like he’s surprised that it’s been said. Rather, it’s like he’s surprised it’s been said to him.

It’s silly, really, like they both can’t quite believe their good fortune at being with the other, even while just about everyone else in the Colony can’t quite believe it took them this long to realise their feelings. Sometimes Cambie can’t believe it either, because this feels so natural. His hands around hers feels right, and she luxuriates in the scent of him. This moment feels like home.] 

I don’t know, I suppose I could. What’s in it for me?

[God, it feels so good to just be free for an evening. To be silly, and make innuendos like they’re just teenagers falling a little in something with each other. Cambie isn’t even aware of how much stress she carries these days until it begins to lift, now, and she feels her jaw soften and her shoulders drop, and the laugh in her throat feels like a balm to an ailment she’d been unaware of suffering.]

[[ There are so many times Mitch has felt entirely too old for his bones — particularly after the apocalypse, of course, but before, too. If he’d had a penny for the number of times he’d heard ‘old soul’ in his younger years, he probably never would’ve had to become a teacher and could’ve retired at twenty. Mitch hadn’t seen it as a bad thing, not necessarily, not when that calm reliability seemed to be one of things that made him so easy to get along with. With Cambie now, though, it’s so much easier to lean into a casual flirtatiousness that never came too easily to him before — but feels entirely natural with Cambie. ]]

Now, hold on — what's in it for you? What happened to scientific interest?

A. DONOVAN​:​

[Two weeks. 

Two weeks—it sounds like a  long time, even though he’d just said himself that a couple weeks was acceptable. He’s not used to feeling this restless, this impatient about something. 

No. Because Alex is a patient man. An infuriatingly patient man, some have said. But something is brewing underneath all the veneers and placations and he’d beginning to get a bad feeling. He isn’t dramatic by nature, but he wonders what two more weeks of simmering will do. There’d been a time when he’d known the NWRF were keeping things from the general public, but it’d felt circumstantial. They kept secrets because secrets, dangerous or not, were how they operated. But with everything that had happened in the last several weeks—the illnesses, the HQ arrival, the strange tension with the Reps around the Colony… something feels much more deliberate, and it’s enough to make a tranquil man nervous.

He looks to Mitch as the teacher thanks Dante, and Alex nods at Dante in turn. It isn’t curt, but silent. He isn’t hasty or careless with Dante’s gaze as he catches it. Because he is grateful, and he knows the risks the doctor is taking. So he holds the look for a moment after he nods, and stands.] Yes, thank you. [He reaches out to shake the man’s hand, before he turns, gesturing for Mitch to take the lead out the door.] Until your word, then.

[A final look, and then he follows Mitch out the door.] 

@dot-speckter​

Good! Good, Dot, [[ Mitch encourages from his spot perched on the desk at one edge of the room, glancing down only to make a couple of quick notes before he looks up again, watching the ease with which she’s executing his drill. ]] If you’re looking for a challenge — and I really think you should be — try slowing it down.

C. WHITMER​:

[He really did hate the Infection testing. It was always exhausting and often upsetting. It tends to leave Kip in a bad mood for the rest of the day, but this time he’d not actually gotten as far as the rest of his day. They’d taken some blood at the start, and then subjected him to the usual onslaught of emotionally draining experimentation, and then they’d taken another vial of blood after because they wanted to see if any differences came about before and after extensive use of an Infection.

Well, that was super fucking dope for their scientists and everything, but Kip’s never had the hardiest constitution and when he’d gotten up to leave he’d gotten woozy. He’d not fallen over, just wobbled a bit, and his vision had gone dark for a second. He was fine, but they’d insisted he go to the infirmary anyway. His comment that it was really nice of them to start caring about his wellbeing now didn’t go over too well.

The nurse poked and prodded a little, and concluded Kip would probably be fine but he should stay in for observation for an hour or so just to let him build up his strength. If he’d known he’d be subjected to this extended bullshit he’d have brought a book, but as it is he’s got nothing to amuse him, and he’s bored. He’s got a cup of diluting juice (apparently the sugar will help, like he got attacked by a dementor and not a mad scientist), and is idly considering throwing it across the room just to make something happen. He sighs, blowing out his lips, and wriggles against the pillows on the bed he’d been instructed to recline on.] 

What’re you in for? [He turns to the person beside him, expectant. He wants to be entertained.] 

Bed rest, plenty of clear liquids, plain foods, okay. [[ Mitch repeats back what the nurse told him with a nod, tapping the instructions into his PDD to send off to Shiloh’s mother. ]] Really hoping it’s just something she ate. Thanks, Naila. [[ He smiles and gives her arm a friendly pat, then turns when he hears another voice.

Caelan gets a smile that fades into muted concern, once Mitch gets a better look at the pallor of his skin. ]] Not me, thankfully. Just escorting a twelve-year-old with, mm. [[ He considers how best to put this, when Caelan’s already looking a little green around the gills. ]] Some stomach upset.