| Playing Doctor [closed to Natsumi & Genma] | [May. 1st, 2009|11:53 am] |
[[Takes place March 20th, a few hours after Girls! Girls! Girls! and a day after Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.]]
After his conversation in the showers with Kaito, Genma had managed to get himself clean, though not shaven, and dressed in a freshly laundered hoodie and loose jeans. He'd been intending to go get some food, but the effort at cleanliness had taken that ambition right out of him; instead he'd gone back to his apartment, taken another dose of the poison antidote the medics had sent him home with, and tried to nap.
Duty nagged at him though. As his clock blinked 14:23, he gave up, got up, opened his blinds, and got out the damn paperwork. The sky outside poured a steady grey torrent that couldn't quite decide whether it wanted to give in to the turning of the seasons or continue to cling to the tattered remnants of winter. Propped up in bed, tucked under a thick green comforter and a soft but ratty-looking blue blanket, he watched the rain slash against his window, and sucked on the end of a pen.
He'd been debriefed in the hospital yesterday; the written report was really just a formality at this point. But it had to be done. The last thing he wanted was some pissed off Intel flunky showing up at his door demanding the thing, and filing another complaint against him for late paperwork.
He picked up the mostly blank document and sighed. It would have been nice to mark the checkbox next to Mission Complete; Successful. The documents they'd retrieved had been fairly well ruined by being soaked in his blood, but the Docs and Forgeries department ought to be able to prepare duplicates for the client. And the originals were certainly no longer in Oimikado's hands...
Mission Aborted; Compromised? Getting ambushed certainly counted as compromised, but they hadn't aborted. Mission Failed? No. Mission Incomplete? No. Mission Complete; Unsuccessful? But they'd achieved their objectives. He finally decided it was too hard to figure out, and a man who'd recently had a quarter of his blood volume replenished was entitled to a pass on hard questions. He capped the pen, rolled the forms into a tube around it, and sent the whole mess sailing across the room.
There were far more interesting things to contemplate than the mission. Kaito for one, and his girl troubles, which were hilarious. Although also a little worrisome. The kid had an aptitude for eros work--after two weeks of working with him, Genma could see that--but if he was still getting tongue-tied around pretty women... Damn, he really, really wished Amari-sensei had thought to teach him how to teach this stuff, and not just how to do it.
And he was still tired. So damned tired. Also sore. Some day, he decided, he was going to get a nice, easy, cakewalk of a mission assignment, and it was gonna turn out to actually be a nice, easy, cakewalk of a mission. The rain was still falling. The sky too dark. Maybe he'd just rest his eyes a little bit. In moments he was asleep, dreaming about sparring with Raidou. He was winning, too. |
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