When Deerington isn't busy inventing new horrors to maim and disturb them with -- which seems most frequent these days -- it has the propensity to appear almost normal. Restaurants, flower shops, schools, even a library... Most days since his arrival have seen Wrench wandering in a daze of confusion, but the more he's settled in and come to realize he has no ability to leave this place of his own accord, the more he's poked his head around its amenities. He knows he can't so easily repay all that Kurt has given him, but he's wanted to do something. Finding the resources has proven relatively easy, but the study itself has been something for the man to lose himself in. For all his efforts he only knows a few simple phrases. Bits of words he can't yet wrangle into much deeper meaning, but it still feels like something. He hopes it's something.
Kurt's gentle smile seems to promise the effort hasn't gone unnoticed, and Wrench leans forward to watch him add more in the empty space. His gentle admonishment encourages a laugh out of the man, a breathless and sad thing that makes him seem almost concerned. The makeshift sutures have certainly not been kind on his skin. The area around the cut is an impatient red and hot to the touch. Out of his shirt, Wrench can feel the difference in the skin on his upper arm. He casts his eyes over the puckering at the site of those stitches and nods. Jim's work is efficient and effective, but brutal. It's the hand of a man who, like most others that have treated Wrench, is more concerned with effectiveness than the look and feel of the thing.
Maybe they can stay, he bargains Kurt with a little smile. The awkward placement that forces him to use his non-dominant hand to reach out for them has kept Wrench from removing them himself, but he knows he would've been no less eager were it an easier task. Maybe he's been waiting for Jim, but it seems now that delaying might put what needs immediate attention further off still yet. Wrench nods his understanding. It's O-K. Pain doesn't last forever.
no subject
Kurt's gentle smile seems to promise the effort hasn't gone unnoticed, and Wrench leans forward to watch him add more in the empty space. His gentle admonishment encourages a laugh out of the man, a breathless and sad thing that makes him seem almost concerned. The makeshift sutures have certainly not been kind on his skin. The area around the cut is an impatient red and hot to the touch. Out of his shirt, Wrench can feel the difference in the skin on his upper arm. He casts his eyes over the puckering at the site of those stitches and nods. Jim's work is efficient and effective, but brutal. It's the hand of a man who, like most others that have treated Wrench, is more concerned with effectiveness than the look and feel of the thing.
Maybe they can stay, he bargains Kurt with a little smile. The awkward placement that forces him to use his non-dominant hand to reach out for them has kept Wrench from removing them himself, but he knows he would've been no less eager were it an easier task. Maybe he's been waiting for Jim, but it seems now that delaying might put what needs immediate attention further off still yet. Wrench nods his understanding. It's O-K. Pain doesn't last forever.