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The lab at the loft feels too small.
Technically, it is and always has been, vital equipment and blackboards crammed with notes all packed in so tightly it makes getting anything accomplished practically a gymnastic event and leaves you wondering how Isaac Mendez ever lived here, but today it's worse. Today your workspace feels like a cage, the scent of chemicals and the blood samples you've taken over the last few days strange and cloying, and you're half possessed by the urge to smash every microscope, every centrifuge to pieces just to clear up some space, just to make the feeling like the walls are closing in on you go away. Some small, still lucid part of you knows that that won't help, though, your restlessness just another side effect of the formula you gave yourself, hoping for super powers, just like the rash (Oh, God, scales) that's been steadily spreading across your back, but you can't help the impulse. You need to get out of here before you do something you regret.
Taking a deep breath in an effort to steady yourself (it doesn't help -- what have you done to yourself?), you head for the door, grabbing your jacket along the way. You're out on the street a moment later, not sure where you're going but now possessed by some primal urge to get as far away from the lab as possible, no better than an animal escaped from its enclosure at the zoo, and so you move quickly, your head down, one hand slipping under your shirt at its collar to pick at the rash on your shoulders. You look strung out and you know it, people staring at you as you pass, but you ignore them. When you finally manage to force yourself to stop, to get a handle on your instincts, it takes you a moment to realize you've made it as far as Central Park. For a brief moment, you consider going home. You shouldn't be out here, the lab the safest place for you (for everyone around you) even if just thinking about it rubs you the wrong way at the moment, and you know it. You can recognize that, albeit unfortunately hazily.
( You get as far as a a collection of large, flat rocks at the far end of the clearing you've stopped in when that thought evaporates. )
Muse: Mohinder Suresh
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 963
Notes: For the memory swap event at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
counted_stars.
Technically, it is and always has been, vital equipment and blackboards crammed with notes all packed in so tightly it makes getting anything accomplished practically a gymnastic event and leaves you wondering how Isaac Mendez ever lived here, but today it's worse. Today your workspace feels like a cage, the scent of chemicals and the blood samples you've taken over the last few days strange and cloying, and you're half possessed by the urge to smash every microscope, every centrifuge to pieces just to clear up some space, just to make the feeling like the walls are closing in on you go away. Some small, still lucid part of you knows that that won't help, though, your restlessness just another side effect of the formula you gave yourself, hoping for super powers, just like the rash (Oh, God, scales) that's been steadily spreading across your back, but you can't help the impulse. You need to get out of here before you do something you regret.
Taking a deep breath in an effort to steady yourself (it doesn't help -- what have you done to yourself?), you head for the door, grabbing your jacket along the way. You're out on the street a moment later, not sure where you're going but now possessed by some primal urge to get as far away from the lab as possible, no better than an animal escaped from its enclosure at the zoo, and so you move quickly, your head down, one hand slipping under your shirt at its collar to pick at the rash on your shoulders. You look strung out and you know it, people staring at you as you pass, but you ignore them. When you finally manage to force yourself to stop, to get a handle on your instincts, it takes you a moment to realize you've made it as far as Central Park. For a brief moment, you consider going home. You shouldn't be out here, the lab the safest place for you (for everyone around you) even if just thinking about it rubs you the wrong way at the moment, and you know it. You can recognize that, albeit unfortunately hazily.
( You get as far as a a collection of large, flat rocks at the far end of the clearing you've stopped in when that thought evaporates. )
Muse: Mohinder Suresh
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 963
Notes: For the memory swap event at
counted_stars.
