Uchiha Sasuke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
not_thedragon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sunshineverse2015-05-12 12:23 pm
not_thedragon) wrote in sunshineverse2015-05-12 12:23 pm
Entry tags:
[open] 05/10 - 05/13
Who: Sasuke and friends, the children's television show that no child should watch
When: 05/10 - 05/13
Where: A hospital room shared with Kakashi and all the adults expressing affection that surrounds him
Notes: Physically, he's pretty healed up. He's mostly under observation, and his charts are very basic due to classified information.
In some ways, quarantine had been relaxing. Most of the time had been spent feeling his bones knit together in the right ways, the delicate ligaments healed in stages and left to find their natural flexibility. They still felt fragile, though no longer as hesitant as they'd been holding the pen to write his brief report, and tired faster than normal. But that had been part of basic T&I training. Hand damage. He was lucky they hadn't taken any of the fingers off.
He was lucky they hadn't done any number of things. They'd wanted to convince him more than extract intel, he thought, and had tried to convey to the interrogator -- masked, voice coolly professional but familiar. It spoke to confidence in more than one way.
It was something he might have liked to chew over with more than the silence of the cell, or the simple scrolls left to him to entertain himself.
But he hadn't been trusted. Wouldn't be for a long time, perhaps; he'd seen as much in the tight drawn lines of the faces that passed through, assessing. Even after his two agents had materialized the day before his release, smiles brittle but voices firm, one with the terrible white twist of bandage still covering his eyes: Uchiha didn't act of his own volition. He hadn't, but he'd been susceptible to control.
That was the word that kept flickering through even in the relative comfort of the hospital. The medic-nin had tsked at him but rigged him with an IV for hydration, and it was maybe irrational to want to see the tamper-proof seal on the saline drip. Definitely irrational, but ... he'd been susceptible.
He closed his eyes briefly at the knock on the door, waiting to see if the footsteps wound around to his curtained half of the room, if he'd need to -- the most relaxing thing about quarantine, ultimately, was not needing to think about what his face did.
When: 05/10 - 05/13
Where: A hospital room shared with Kakashi and all the adults expressing affection that surrounds him
Notes: Physically, he's pretty healed up. He's mostly under observation, and his charts are very basic due to classified information.
In some ways, quarantine had been relaxing. Most of the time had been spent feeling his bones knit together in the right ways, the delicate ligaments healed in stages and left to find their natural flexibility. They still felt fragile, though no longer as hesitant as they'd been holding the pen to write his brief report, and tired faster than normal. But that had been part of basic T&I training. Hand damage. He was lucky they hadn't taken any of the fingers off.
He was lucky they hadn't done any number of things. They'd wanted to convince him more than extract intel, he thought, and had tried to convey to the interrogator -- masked, voice coolly professional but familiar. It spoke to confidence in more than one way.
It was something he might have liked to chew over with more than the silence of the cell, or the simple scrolls left to him to entertain himself.
But he hadn't been trusted. Wouldn't be for a long time, perhaps; he'd seen as much in the tight drawn lines of the faces that passed through, assessing. Even after his two agents had materialized the day before his release, smiles brittle but voices firm, one with the terrible white twist of bandage still covering his eyes: Uchiha didn't act of his own volition. He hadn't, but he'd been susceptible to control.
That was the word that kept flickering through even in the relative comfort of the hospital. The medic-nin had tsked at him but rigged him with an IV for hydration, and it was maybe irrational to want to see the tamper-proof seal on the saline drip. Definitely irrational, but ... he'd been susceptible.
He closed his eyes briefly at the knock on the door, waiting to see if the footsteps wound around to his curtained half of the room, if he'd need to -- the most relaxing thing about quarantine, ultimately, was not needing to think about what his face did.
no subject
That leaves him with a pest that isn't likely to go away when she has a captive audience, even if he supposes a gloating idiot is better than the kinds of people Sasuke's been seeing in the past month. Knowing the comparison exists doesn't erase the irritation of the now, especially not when she's using just the right tone of voice to grate.
At least they hadn't tried to use sound techniques on him while breaking his fingers. Unconsciously, he flexes said fingers, testing their mobility.
"You don't remember correctly," he says, perfectly deadpan. "They employ non-medics if they're skilled enough. If I were a medic, I'd have to follow Tsunade-shishou's rules." And that, despite anything Obito might have wanted, was impossible. "And if you don't know those rules, you definitely don't deserve to be here."
no subject
"I wouldn't really call your bedside manner skilled." She shoots back after recovering.
She studies her nails a moment in a effort to look like it doesn't matter what he just said; that she wasn't effected in the slightest. It's good though to see his fingers twitch, her mouth spreading into a grin. Clearly she's doing her job in annoying him then.
"You think so little of me, I'm hurt." Not.