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Who: J, Alex and their respective mirrors
Where: All over the place
When: Wednesday night...ish?
Rating: PG-plasmid for plasmid and plasmid. Which means fictional drug references and probably strong language. Enjoy.
Summary: M!Lamb paid a visit to Alex and had some fun with him. Hopped up, he seeks out J to find out what's what.
the Story: Alex feels like his skin is on fire in the best possible way.

He's getting pulled this way and that by the dozen plasmids and tonics now chewing up and spitting out his genetic code. Guess what seems like a good idea? Everything. Guess what seems like a great idea? More ADAM, okay, but also, dropping in on a buddy of his.

How seriously can we take 'buddy'? Well, the strange white wisps that don't really bother him right this second have given him some memories back, and okay, he knows that at one point they were friends. He also remembers bitter arguments at the mansion, and he wants to know what gives.

He may also just be wandering. He can't sit down for more than five minutes.

So, J. This narration can only imagine your delight at the prospect of Alex Kralie turning up at your door. How about an Alex Kralie with wild, hungry eyes and pupils the size of dinnerplates, whose clothes are half-soaked and whose right jeans leg is bloody from the knee down? Or even an Alex Kralie whose bare left wrist is reddened and starting to swell from all the needles jabbed into it, and who keeps snapping the fingers of that hand distractedly?

Or one whose voice, when he knocks and calls out -

"J."

- is oddly discordant, like someone's recorded the voice and then played it back over itself?

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His regular's being a nuisance? Oh, well, that can be easily fixed.

Quickly: IS LAMB THERE?

_{NO. JUST ME. NOT HIM, YET. HE'S COMING. FAST.}

Speak of the devil! Those are pounding sneakers and heavy, animal breaths coming down the corridor.

Well, J is a pretty cool guy who doesn't afraid of anything, and he seems to genuinely like Alex and is fun to talk to besides. Plus Alex wants to see what's going on over there. So if Lamb's nowhere around...

He pulls a face at the splintered glass, hoping that this won't be uncomfortable, and steps on through.

There's a moment when he seems to be stepping out from every shard, every direction at once. Then all the images coalesce into Alex, standing in front of the mirrorframe, the direction of his fringe and the band logo on his t-shirt backwards by the standards of this world.

He looks a little nauseous.

"Okay, facing every point in this room at once is not my idea of fun."

The corridor has fallen silent.

J jumps at the sudden appearance of mirror Alex, grinning wildly. He can't help it. He thought he was going to die and now he's okay.

He leans back, a little half-laugh leaving him. "... Hi. That's... yeah, that doesn't sound comfortable."

"Well, least I'm making the most of being allowed over this side."

Alex can be philosophical about these things! Also he can be looking around the room at the aftermath of that chaos he heard. He whistles quietly, impressed and slightly alarmed.

"I don't know what happened in here, but..."

J shakes his head, standing uneasily. His knee is killing him, honestly, and his pants are slightly torn and bloody from the glass. He winces, brushing at it, and winces again. _{"Ooh. Damn."}

Looking up at Alex, he raises an eyebrow. "He's been splicing. In a huge way, looks like. Dunno if you know what that means? But it's not good. It's not good at all."

Pushing over a nearby bottle with his bare foot, he sighs. _{"I don't even know why he came over. I thought he was going to kill me."}

Alex is still looking around while J is rambling. His eyes fall on the sledgehammer, and he says contemplatively to himself: "So that's what that was."

Even while he's looking around, though, he keeps his gaze away from the shards of glass, careful not to catch his reflection in any of them.

To J: "I could hear it, but the mirror was broken, soooo..." He shrugs, now trying to work out how many bottles have been broken on the floor. "But yeah, I know what splicing is, I asked around on our side when he started. He's a moron."

He looks at J with worried smile. "You want a bandage?"

"When he started...?" J looks back at the mirror Alex, pausing for a moment. "A band- _{oh yeah, my knee.} No, I'm okay." A quick shrug.

"What do you mean, when he started?"

He doesn't know?

Alex's smile takes on a gleeful quality, because if there's one thing he loves, it's gossiping with J. Either J.

"He spliced up, like, a month ago. He was talking about getting rid of the Operator's regular. Never seemed to actually do anything about it, though."

...Oh.

That's the only thought that comes to mind. "...Oh," he says aloud, and looks away, passing it off as looking around some more. Really, he feels... hurt. Maybe a little guilty.

"..Where'd he get it, Sinclair?" Hey, it's a good a guess as any, even though he has the sickening feeling it involved a little more psychiatry than that.

J, you're doing 'gleefully gossippy' wrong. There's more smiling and stuff and not so much guilt and depression. Get with the programme!

...oh, fine.

"Hey, it's his own stupid fault," Alex says reassuringly. J's guilt is subtle, but he's pretty perceptive as far as these things go. "'S not like he came and asked your advice, is it?

"Nah, Lamb's freaky regular gave it to him."

"...Lamb's reg-?"

No way.

"No way. Seriously?"

He looks back up at mirror Alex, frowning slightly. "Did she force him, or did he just...?"

Alex perches on the arm of the nearby sofa, and sighs, wishing the conversation would lighten up in tone.

"Nah, this was right after the whole thing with the absinthe and the bondage, so she was all 'hey, this'll let you defend yourself', and he was all, 'I am all over that', aaaand then he just."

...yeah, he's been keeping tabs, so what?

He's quiet for a while.

"I can see why," he says, voice quiet, and then shrugs.

"This place is fucking trashed."

"Tchyeah. It got pretty loud."

He pulls a face at the mirror.

"Hope he's not trashing my room."

"I... wouldn't put it past him."

He sighs.

"Are you going to stay here? I mean, until you have to go back."

Alex stares at the ceiling, annoyed. Sure, he wants to continue having a rad pen-pal who is alive and not at a temperature below zero, but still. He's gonna have to tidy that up, man.

"Great."

Then he looks at J again. "What, in this room? Nah, he's made it depressing again. Library? Kitchen? Your room?"

For a moment, he just stares at m!Alex.

Then, he gives the tiniest smile. "Sure. My room's sort've trashed right now, though. _{He kind of broke the door.}"

"...What a dick."

"Yeah. Yep. Exactly." He purses his lips and gives a short nod, sighing. "He said he only wanted to talk and he kept blasting ice at me."

"Yeah, I got Cohen talking about his regular and that sounds about right."

He stands up as he says it, not particularly bothered about his regular's fate. Why should he? Guy's an idiot. So, kitchen or what?

J shrugs, carefully stepping over everything to the door. He's had about enough of being in this room. Being anywhere near it makes him feel sick. Walking down the hall, he realizes he's stepped on a piece of glass; pulling it out of his foot, he looks back at Alex.

"That cake you made last time was really good."

Alex's face brightens into a pleased smile as he follows J out the door.

"Aw, thanks! Want the recipe? ...You're gonna want a plaster for that," he adds, pointing to J's foot, "even if only for the sake of the floor."

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