Goran-ThePanicRoomIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Goran - The Panic Room Finally allowed an escape from the room, Goran entered the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. He started running the water in the tub - hot, steamy water. He watched it for a time as it rose, but then he realized that he didn't want a bath. He did NOT want to relax. A hot shower was what was needed, but they didn't have those here. Damn. Remembering that, he cranked off the water roughly, his anger rising. He stalked to the sink instead and threw open the faucets, hands twitching with agitation. He stripped off his shirt and hurled it into the tub, letting the water that had accumulated soak into the fibers. Roughly, he scooped up the soap and began washing his arms and shoulders, head and chest. He scrubbed himself raw, nearly scalding himself with water made hotter than the Queen could provide. It was a punishment as much as a cleaning. A punishment for losing control. Goran yanked off his trousers to toss them into the tub as well, but then paused, reason winning for a moment. He usually kept his trumps in his jacket, but that was in the other room. Perhaps he had put them elsewhere this time. It had been a hectic day. He checked the back pocket of his trousers, certain that he remembered his trumps being there. And there they were. He set them aside as he finished washing. After finding a clean security uniform just his size hanging on the back of the bathroom door, he dressed and took the cards back into his hand. Fog and steam swirled damply around the bathroom as Goran pulled the trumps out of their narrow case and fanned them. Places and people. Scanning the two face cards, he berated himself viciously once more. He had let them down. Both of them. He had failed. He had lost control and revealed too much in the process. He had plunged headlong into something that he had been warned was too big for him. He had wrecked the ship. He chuckled darkly at himself. The ship he could fix. The rest... He turned to the place cards. Places near and far. He could leave. He could trump to one of these places and never be seen here again. He should. He chose a card and began to concentrate. Then he stopped. Sad, violet eyes placing flowers on a sidewalk. Damien had threatened Tear's family. Her uncle and the only mother she had ever known. They were in danger. Because of him. Because he had stubbornly refused to talk for that condescending b@stard. He could not run and leave them vulnerable. He would not put her through that loss again. Through his own loss. And what of the Queen? Danger was approaching from another quarter and these girls were his responsibility too. His own new family. Vincenzo was good. Niccolo was probably better. Goran had felt the pattern energy. And Petra had her own skills too. Three pattern users were better than two though. If worse came to worst, one could go to Cornaro, one could pass people through, and the last could watch all their backs. Goran knew which job he felt most suited for. He could not leave. He would not run. Not this time. Goran squared the cards and returned them to their case. He had some cleaning to do. Goran returned to the room outside, which was now empty except for the pile of debris in the middle of the floor. He sighed heavily and surveyed the damage to both carpet and ceiling. Goran had done carpentry and basic repair work before. Heck, he'd done most everything before, once or twice. But back home, all the maintenance of the family's cafe had been done by he and his uncle, usually together. This ceiling looked like it could easily be fixed with some lathing and plaster. The carpet was another matter. It was fine Cornaran work and would probably have to be replaced. Goran went to the room's closet, hoping to find something with which to start the clean-up. A dustpan and broom would be a good start. A tool box would be even better. He didn't push the shadows to find these things though. The shadows had been manipulated enough this evening. If he pushed them too much, it might start affecting other things. The room had been empty for a reason. Perhaps it had been due for maintenance anyway. Goran hoped so. After everything that had happened tonight, he had a desire to do things the old-fashioned way anyhow. Various members to the team looked in and offered to help. Goran accepted help, particularly from the maintenance crew that showed up, but it was primarily the "go mix me some plaster" or "hold the other end of this" variety. There was a large part of him that felt the need to make atonement for the mess he'd created, physically and figuratively, and repairing the damage seemed the best way to do that. Besides, he always thought better when he was doing physical work. When he'd finished the room as best he could and dismissed the rest of the maintenance crew, Goran went back to the bathroom. With a broomstick, he swirled the contaminated clothing around in the now-lukewarm water and drained the tub. He ran more hot water over them to rinse off whatever was left, then double-bagged the garments in two pillow cases. He took the bag down to the incinerator and tossed it in. The newcomer had been concerned about contamination and he appeared to know what he was talking about. Incineration seemed to be the best disposal method available in Amber, where trained haz-mat crews were few and far between. Goran's return route took him through the storeroom behind the bar of the main lounge. The storeroom was almost directly under Petra's private office. As he passed through, Goran heard a sound through the ceiling; a heavy thud, almost like a body falling. It drew his attention - for no-one should have been up there. [Continued offlist] |
