waiting for the world to stop

[itstotallyaliens]

Date & Time: September 1st, mid-day
Location: The Hold
Characters: Fox Mulder and YOU!
Summary: Now arriving: One Very Uncooperative Transport
Warnings: Language might get mild, anyone who chooses Option A will probably have to deal with violence, but overall it's just another day.

When the lights in his apartment building's elevator go out, he's unimpressed, but unsurprised. When he starts falling instead of rising, then there's cause for alarm. But when he opens his eyes and he's in a white room, well. Mulder's lip curls in disgust. Really? he thinks. Out of the frying pan and into the abduction. Fantastic.

But what he's expecting isn't what he gets - he gets the same thing every new Transport gets, of course: The Speech. But he doesn't even let her sweep him along into the armory - he stands his ground as firmly as he can and demands answers. He only gets as good as any other new arrival does, and that's not good enough.

Soon enough he's raising his voice:

"I don't care WHAT you're trying to sell me, I want to know who put you up to this! Was it the Cancer Man? Was it someone else? Whoever it was, I want answers. And I'm going to get them. Because I've been through ENOUGH the last couple of days."

She tries to assuage him, and he reaches out and shoves her, by both shoulders. "I didn't even get to help bury my father. You people are scum, you know that? You'll do anything to keep the public at large in line, to keep the world the way you want it. And if you really think that dragging me here - however you did it - is gonna stop me? You have so many more thinks coming that it's not even funny."

With that, he reaches for his gun ... and security arrives. At this point, anyone wishing to actually have something to do with this kamikaze ball of crazy has two options...

[A:] You're part of the security detail. Congratulations, it's now your job to try and rein Mulder in and get him to the holding cells where he can cool his heels for a couple of days and Think About His Life Decisions.

[B:] Post-containment Option 1: Once security threw Mulder into his cell, they gave him his tablet, since he might as well have something to do with his time. Anyone looking through the feeds will see him scowling down into the screen and sullenly poking at the controls, but not saying anything. He won't speak until spoken to: he doesn't trust the thing yet, after all.

[C:] Post-containment Option 2: You came to see the new nutjob in person. You'll probably have a better chance of having a rational conversation with him than anyone in Option 1. (NOTE: This can either be in jail or outside the Hold, because I forgot to be specific and flexibility is a good thing. :D)

Comments

[itstotallyaliens]

"Cookie tent?" Mulder tilted his head at him, confused. "Is that a euphemism, or is that seriously what it sounds like it is?"

[lazyinlove]

"Wait, like how?" He's not sure if it's the cookie part or the tent part that's confusing. Maybe they're supposed to be complimentary euphemisms?

Anyway, never mind. Stanley shakes his head, but regrets the movement. He has to stop and hold it for a moment, to make sure nothing bursts out if his skull. Ugh, ow.

When the coast is clear, though, he cracks a smile. It's a little shaky, but good humored. "It's a tent. And they give out cookies inside. Jesse and some people I mean, not They."

[itstotallyaliens]

"Oh. Huh, so it's a welcome wagon." The thought of it actually made him smile - the presence of common human decency in the midst of so much weirdness and uncertainty. Good, it meant that he might still be able to get something done, here.

The smile didn't last long, though, as he caught the move Stanley made to hold his head. "Hey, are you okay?"

[lazyinlove]

"Yeah. It's hard the first day, so some people hand out cookies or umbrellas or whatever."

Stanley answers, still rubbing his temples a little. But he peeks over at agent Mulder anyway, noting the concern. That seems to be pretty unusual here. Most people have their own problems to worry about. Being locked in a containment cell, for example.

"Uh. I'm okay. Mostly. Think I'm coming down with something. But at least I'm on the good side of the bars."

[itstotallyaliens]

"Cookies and umbrellas are all well and good, but it seems to me you need to find the tent where they hand out antibiotics or something. ... Is there a doctor, here?"

The possibility that there might not be worried him, but he kept a lid on letting that show.

[lazyinlove]

Hmm. Medicine. Now there's an idea with some merit. Why is it he never thinks of these things until an adult suggests them?

"It's not that bad. But if you happen to have a roll of antacids on you I wouldn't complain."

[itstotallyaliens]

"On a normal day I might be able to help you out," he concedes, patting down his pockets, "but right now all I've got are sunflower seeds, and those aren't exactly going to help much."

He holds up the little black fetish bag the shaman gave him with a rueful look.

"Sorry. ... There's probably a clinic in a place like this, but I don't know how much you trust it. Or how much you should."

[lazyinlove]

That's an interesting thing to have, and Stan gives it a once over, tilting his head a little to one side. He shrugs, though the clinic suggestion has merit too. There's gotta be something like that around. He might just look into it. "You shoukda asked for the family size. Food sucks here."

[itstotallyaliens]

"I believe it. Military food always does." He tucks the bag back away in his pocket. "Thanks for the warning, though."

[lazyinlove]

"Yep."

He starts to get up, apparently finished conversing for the time being, but pauses halfway.

"...Want me to let you out?"