Liam McNally (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inequal) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caveofsapphires2012-04-10 08:17 pm
inequal) wrote in caveofsapphires2012-04-10 08:17 pm
People are crazy and times are strange [ open ]
WHO: Liam (Owen) [inequal] and ANYONE.
WHAT: Somebody else got struck by the memory rehab bug, thinks his name is something else. Now Liam's trying to deal with the idea that he might have his head screwed on wrong without being able to tell.
WHERE: All around the Cave, notably: the Bar; the Supply Depot; near the Living Quarters; a secluded corner.
WHEN: April 10th (Tuesday) through April 12th (Thursday).
NOTES: What the hell is consistent narrative name, do not even get me started on trying to figure out which one to use. IT'S JUST "HE" AND "HIM" OKAY.
His Tuesday started out simply enough, some murky memory (or was it a dream?) floating up to remind him of a white room and then... nothing, really. Probably just made it up. No, his day really started with a buzz in his head and a request for his husband to turn off the bloody overhead light, if you please, George.
That was his first sign that something was wrong. It didn't feel wrong, but the sheer comfort with which he identified as Owen Bates (not... Liam McNally or whatever name it was that George—Ken?—said it should be) gave him a shudder if he stopped to think about it for too long. Exactly why he immediately sought out Arthur Stieber at the Supply Depot and was told to swing by later that night after work.
Fine, whatever. He could wait another few hours. So he went with his spouse to the Bar and spent the next few hours ignoring the twitch in his foot and fingers. Scaring off the customers would not do, even if the only exchange he cared about tended to be the conversational sort and nothing to do with money.
He was out like a bolt by closing time and off to retrieve the pack of cigarettes as Arthur had promised. Horrible habit to get back into when he was still not physically addicted, but the psychological effects were already ingrained deeply enough. It wasn't until Wednesday that he had the chance to secret himself into an underdeveloped crevice on the west side of the Cave and finally light up. Hopefully the smoke would dissipate before anyone else caught wind of it, because despite popular belief, he did not try to bury himself in as much trouble as possible at all times.George Ken George would likely be worried and that kept him from lighting a second despite the urge.
The rest of Wednesday proceeded as normal... what accounted for normal in this place, anyway. Some exploration in the day and work in the afternoon, all the way to After Hours. Thursday found him escaping to the crevice once again, lighter and cigarette clutched in hand, then off to the Depot again with George to retrieve more rations.
It was perhaps the least exciting lifestyle he had indulged in for nearly sixty years. Nevertheless, Owen could not stop the dread coiling in his gut that the other shoe was primed just perfectly to drop any day now.
inequal] and ANYONE.WHAT: Somebody else got struck by the memory rehab bug, thinks his name is something else. Now Liam's trying to deal with the idea that he might have his head screwed on wrong without being able to tell.
WHERE: All around the Cave, notably: the Bar; the Supply Depot; near the Living Quarters; a secluded corner.
WHEN: April 10th (Tuesday) through April 12th (Thursday).
NOTES: What the hell is consistent narrative name, do not even get me started on trying to figure out which one to use. IT'S JUST "HE" AND "HIM" OKAY.
His Tuesday started out simply enough, some murky memory (or was it a dream?) floating up to remind him of a white room and then... nothing, really. Probably just made it up. No, his day really started with a buzz in his head and a request for his husband to turn off the bloody overhead light, if you please, George.
That was his first sign that something was wrong. It didn't feel wrong, but the sheer comfort with which he identified as Owen Bates (not... Liam McNally or whatever name it was that George—Ken?—said it should be) gave him a shudder if he stopped to think about it for too long. Exactly why he immediately sought out Arthur Stieber at the Supply Depot and was told to swing by later that night after work.
Fine, whatever. He could wait another few hours. So he went with his spouse to the Bar and spent the next few hours ignoring the twitch in his foot and fingers. Scaring off the customers would not do, even if the only exchange he cared about tended to be the conversational sort and nothing to do with money.
He was out like a bolt by closing time and off to retrieve the pack of cigarettes as Arthur had promised. Horrible habit to get back into when he was still not physically addicted, but the psychological effects were already ingrained deeply enough. It wasn't until Wednesday that he had the chance to secret himself into an underdeveloped crevice on the west side of the Cave and finally light up. Hopefully the smoke would dissipate before anyone else caught wind of it, because despite popular belief, he did not try to bury himself in as much trouble as possible at all times.
The rest of Wednesday proceeded as normal... what accounted for normal in this place, anyway. Some exploration in the day and work in the afternoon, all the way to After Hours. Thursday found him escaping to the crevice once again, lighter and cigarette clutched in hand, then off to the Depot again with George to retrieve more rations.
It was perhaps the least exciting lifestyle he had indulged in for nearly sixty years. Nevertheless, Owen could not stop the dread coiling in his gut that the other shoe was primed just perfectly to drop any day now.
no subject
"Oh, you know. Testing for toxins or radiation, or whatever else might be unusual." He paused, pondering the second question. "I'm sure they have something. I'm supposed to be a scientist, after all, surely there'd be equipment available somewhere if they expect me to do scientific things, hmm? If not... well then I'll just have to see about making something."
no subject
Owen scratched at his cheek, head tilted far enough to make it clear he didn't understand how those tests would work even if he had no doubt that they would. He was educated in a lot of things, just not in formal education subjects themselves and, to be honest, he never really had the interest, anyway. "Maybe try that supply depot guy, Stieber. He seemed willing enough to talk the times I've seen him."
no subject
He smiled, not concerned with trying to explain specifics to someone uninclined towards the area. So long as they weren't asking, anyway. "Ah, yes, the supply depot. I think I shall at that." The Doctor nodded, contemplative. "Yes, I shall have to look into it. For now, I think I'll go do some more reading, hmm?" As he pushed himself upright, his brows quirked and he gave the man an amused look. "You know, I never caught your name," he said with a chuckle.
no subject
Although Owen smiled, there wasn't much humour in the expression. "Right, my name. Owen Bates." Not according to his husband, but his memories still said otherwise. "You are?"
no subject
no subject
"Pleasure to meet you, Doctor. Don't be a stranger around here... even if you just end up ordering more water again," he teased lightly.
no subject