entrancelogs | No-one comes out of this sane

Who: Sam Yao and YOU
Where: All over the mansion and grounds.
When: 19th-24th
Rating: PG-13. I think. Will change if needed.
Summary: Sam isn't suffering, but he's trying to help those who have. Certain revelations might make that difficult. (Huge spoilers for S2 M39 of Zombies, Run! onwards to the end of S3)
The Story:

19th-21st

[It's easy to tell that something has gone horribly wrong. The screaming, the people staggering around, angry or staring or arguing with people who aren't there, they're kind of a giveaway. And he's not sure exactly what's going on, what the problem is.

He feels useless. There's nothing he can do to help with this, except hopefully stop anyone getting hurt, and even then, he can't protect them all the time. He does what he can, helps Maxine at the clinic, tries to stop anyone hurting themselves or other people.

When Simon comes to him, paranoid and scared, of course Sam helps him. What else can he do for one of his Runners?]

22nd

[Anger, betrayal, they make him reckless, send him stomping and spitting away from his room, away from everyone he knows.

How can that end well?]

23rd

[When Sam revives, dizzy and sick and with one less life, he's in his bedroom, although he knows he didn't die there. Doesn't remember how he got back there. He can see, even though he remembers his eyes burning.

And then he sees Alice, blood oozing from a bite and demanding to know why he didn't save her. Alice and Ellis and Chris. Archie. His parents. He'd killed them all. he couldn't save anyone.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Maxine's been working hard, but sooner or later all of them need to rest. That had been Sam's idea, she seemed to recall. Rest break. For Simon's sake, if nothing else.

So it's during a lull in the traffic into and out of the clinic that she finds herself in Sam's room, achy and tired and still too paranoid to sleep, nestled in comfortably against Sam with her outside hand resting lightly on the stock of the sawed-off shotgun that never leaves her side. She sighs slowly, eyes flicking to the door for only the thousandth time, voice wry and low.]

So . . . do people totally lose it here very often? Or do I just have really awesome timing?

[It was nice like this, sort of cosy, or it would have been had the situation not sucked so much. Still, Simon had calmed down since being here with Sam, and Jo seemed better being around Simon. It wasn't as though he had plans to be anywhere.

He grinned up at her.]

There was the time we did the Oregon trail and Simon went hunting for Buffalo Wings.

[ The groan comes from where Simon's face is buried in a pillow somewhere around Sam's middle. Luckily Sam has a big enough bed for the four of them, but its not like any of them seem to mind the impromptu puppy pile they've formed. Simon doesn't know why but the contact has seemed to help keep the terrible hallucinations and thoughts at bay, so for at the moment, he'll take what he can get. ]

I'm never going to live that down, am I?

[Jo still wasn't quite sure when it was that she'd let Simon drag her here, but she's piled onto the bed with the rest of them, curled up against Simon's back and taking a moment to really appreciate the peace that seems to bring. The break in the hallucinations is more than welcome.]

Probably not. We have to make our own fun. Not our fault you made that really easy.

[Hunting for buffalo wings.]

[She looks down over the sanity conga line, smirking faintly.]

All right, someone has to tell the story. Including what you mean by 'doing the Oregon Trail.'

So a few weeks ago, we literally ended up doing the Oregon Trail. Like that game? The one all the Americans have played. We had a cart and supplies and had to travel to Bizarro Oregon and Simon went hunting for Buffalo Wings except with real Buffalo.

I still don't understand why anyone would call them buffalo wings when they don't come from buffalo.

[ Simon is very grumpy about this. And mostly about the fact that he got cheated out of buffalo wings. The being a ghost part had actually been pretty cool. ]

Because Buffalo sauce is from Buffalo.

[The explanation manages to be matter-of-fact while still murmured against the back of Simon's shoulder.]

Are you this cranky about chicken fingers, too?

What I'm confused about is why you'd think something that looks like a buffalo would taste like chicken.

Well, don't they say that frog legs taste like chicken? They don't look like chickens. Or like buffalo.

I dunno. It was pretty funny though.

I thought everything tastes like chicken, isn't that the point?

[ He's still grumbling about the ribbing, but its really in playful humor, because he never had a hard time laughing at himself. And Jo's murmur at his shoulder has a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. ]

And don't even get me started on chicken fingers.

You're too literal about food.

[She can only imagine the fit hot dogs must give him.]

Anyway, they only tell you that things taste like chicken to trick you into eating them because they think you won't know any better.

[Is this conversation really happening?]

Chicken meat does generally have a lower level of myoglobin - you know, the stuff that makes red meat red? That could contribute to all of those non-mammal white meats tasting similar. Or, you know, them not being mammals.

Something tells me that might be too much science for this conversation, though.

Simon's just lucky he's in a place where he gets to complain about food.

Although if I never have to eat acorn broth again it will be too soon.

[ Simon groans and drags a pillow over his head. ]

Oh god. No. Don't get her started talking science. It may never end.

And acorn broth was still better than whatever that concoction was Jack tried to make with mushrooms. You couldn't walk within ten feet of their shack for days without smelling it. There was a reason we all kept eagerly volunteering to be sent out on runs, just to get away from it.

I don't know, I think it's kind of interesting.

[Girls have to stick together, right? Any further encouragement is forgotten, however, as Jo makes a fact at the mention of acorn broth and-- what, rancid mushrooms?]

Oh my God. [She groans, though it doesn't come out quite as pitiful as Simon's.] When this is over, I'm making all of you dinner. Real dinner, with actual food.

Pancakes. Big, fluffy buttermilk pancakes. With sausage patties. And eggs.

[Even the thought is bliss, and Maxine smiles to herself to think of it, petting Sam's hair and looking at the ceiling. There were definitely home comforts she missed in England, and basic pancake house fare at any hour of the day was one of them.]

I think Jack said it had squirrel in it? [Something like that anyway. It had smelled gross.]

Bao like my ganddad made. Big fat steamed pork buns.

[ Simon shifts the pillow just enough to scowl balefully in her direction. ]

I still want my buffalo wings. Made from genuine buffalo.

Pancakes and bao I can do. Something that doesn't actually exist might be a little tougher.

[She scowls back at him without moving from her spot, but there's no real malice in it, though she does gently dig her elbow against his back in retaliation.]

I'll see what I can do. But the more I hear about acorn broth and squirrel surprise, the more I'm pretty sure someone needs to feed all three of you.

No-one comes out of this sane

22nd

22nd

Cuddlepile!

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