Dr. Thomas Elliot (doctorelliot) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-05-08 17:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, jason todd, thomas elliot |
WHO: Thomas Elliot & Jason Todd
WHAT: Just hanging out.
WHEN: Saturday, May 8th, Mid-Afternoon.
WHERE: Their bathroom.
STATUS: In-Progress, Closed.
WARNINGS: Meh. Will update if needed.
In his normal day-to-day life, there were very few moments of calm. That was, after all, a thing that Tommy thrived on. As long as he could remember that had been true. Chaos, high demands, and pushing himself to the absolute extent of his abilities had been the way he'd gotten through thirty-two years of life. Here, however, very few things were normal. And most of the time it was depressingly mundane. As much as Tommy said that he was glad there wasn't much need for him or his profession, he sincerely resented the fact. Significantly more people needed to be doing significantly more dumb shit because he was beginning to go slightly stir-crazy with nothing consistent to work on. If only one person could have just one incredibly fascinating problem that may have scratched the itch. But people were entirely too cautious around here for his liking. That restlessness was, largely, how he ended up standing in his bathroom jabbing a needle into his face. He was making far too many abnormal facial expressions lately and the botox wasn't lasting nearly as long as it usually did. He couldn't have that. No one wanted that. And the reasons why had become significantly more apparent in the last week. Looking at a version of himself a mere fifteen or so years into the future was startling and he wasn't going to have any of it. Next to him, Jason was sat on the lid of the toilet idly buffing out his nails while fresh black dye soaked into his hair. Tommy had needed to touch up his roots and he may as well have used the last of the bottle on Jason. As was their habit. A timer was steadily counting down on Tommy's phone, currently at twenty-seven minutes and forty-four seconds. The mediocre packet of conditioner had been chucked in the trash in favor of Tommy's usual brand, which was already formulated to keep the black in his hair as long as possible. And everyone knew that red hair was especially prone to refusing color. So he had to make it last. This could very nearly be confused for a touching bonding moment were it not for - again - the needle that Tommy was repeatedly jabbing into his face. He'd done so much work on himself that pain was hardly an issue anymore, and he didn't so much as flinch as he poked into one faint line, then the next, then the next. Over and over again. He had worked himself into a rhythm over the last few minutes and it seemed that little would shake him from that - at least until he paused, straightened his back, and set the needle down on the sink with a harsh clink of glass and metal against porcelain. "And another thing," he said, his hands braced on the edge of the basin. It had been roughly four minutes nor since the last time he'd said anything, and the sudden sound of his voice slicing through the silence was a bit alarming. So was the tone. Though it would hardly be an unfamiliar one for Jason. "The whole muddling of concern and defensiveness really says a lot more about how he interprets behavior than the behaviors themselves. I don't know what he thinks he knows about anything but I will tell you that he's never been as observant as he thinks he is." Yes, he'd been ranting about this for a week. On and off, in spurts, much like this time. But there was no Jonathan here to reign in Tommy's more symptomatic moments and he really needed a responsible adult to keep him in check sometimes. Hence why he understood the need in others so well. |