Re: Quiet Home: Damian & Misha
The fact that the human mind was real fragile, that just added to Misha's appreciation of it. Course, just now, he reckoned he was just as human as the rest, and all the things doctors had said since ten, they were bright like stars in his mind. He couldn't fix on any of the things said, but his own fear of being mad as could be, it was feeding off them bright lights. Damian being there, it threw things askew, and it made things wrong. He wanted to ask how they knew each other, but he didn't. His foster daddy was standing there, waiting patient, like he always did. Misha stuck fingers in his mouth and sucked them, just like he had when he was young. That habit had been a long time breaking. Two fingers past his smudge-painted lips, and he sucked them wrinkled to the knuckle.
He watched the fingers at his arm like someone real accustomed to behaving how they were told. He looked 'round careful, like he reckoned he might get caught. But he kept looking at the air next to him, where he'd been having that conversation, and it was plenty obvious that wasn't who he kept on looking for over Damian's shoulder. When he spoke, it was 'round the fingers he still had shoved deep into his mouth. "Doctor Heron's my court-appointed doctor." He said them words real quiet, like they were more dire than the rest. "Medicine is an accepted treatment." It was, and this wasn't nothing new for Misha. "It's better here than Bellevue." Bellevue took some saying, and Misha's watercolor-blue gaze, it reflected some real concern through the faded drip of watered down color. "I don't want to go back there, so we can't go causing trouble. We'll be real well behaved." He repeated them words to the specter at his side, chin tilted up as if he was talking to someone real tall.
He focused his gaze on Damian real unexpected, but it was with the unpredictability of a mad person's changing dispositions. Medicated or not, anyone who'd seen madness firsthand, they'd know how mercurial crazy folks could be in their moods. This was a shift. The boy still slouched plenty, but he looked at Damian like he was seeing through him to the organs cradled 'neath bone. "What were the bottles?" Real random, and the question still came 'round fingers.