Asylum (Murdoch and Kristie)

First topic message reminder :

Nothing is easy when you're a patient at an institution for the mentally ill. No matter what you suffer from, there are troubles and tribulations that one must overcome in order to remain somewhat normal and in control of your own mind. Not to mention the fact that, at this particular institution, the treatments are radical and sometimes cruel and inhumane. As a new volunteer, your job is to interact with the patients and help them with their day to day tasks. So how will I, a patient, react when seeing you becomes part of my regular day? Will I dismiss you? Or will I let you get to know the person inside?
The setting, specifically, is a criminally insane asylum (or, at least, an asylum with a criminally insane section).


Myen Bioen, as they say in Germany, or as they call it, “Germanean”. Lol…

Name: Gregory Wilde
Nicknames: He was nicknamed “The Trickster” after his spate of killings in which the victims had been tricked out of everything they owned and then murdered, made to look like suicides. It took the police five years to catch up with him.
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Sexuality: Straight
Height: 6’9

Body Type: Gregory is tall, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. His muscles aren’t overly large, but are well defined.
Hair Colour: Natural? Black. But he’s dyed it purple.
Hair Style: Wild vertical spikes.
Eye Colour: A very dark green.
Facial Features: He has a somewhat squared, angular face with just a hint of curving.

Personality: Gregory is a tricky individual, being able to leap through loopholes like they were large hoops. He is intelligent and selfish, and does things just for the hell of it more then monetary gain. He is sort of arrogant, and views the entirety of life as a game in which the object is to cause as much trouble as possible.

Other: Find out.

History: Not much is known about his earlier life, and the name Gregory Wilde only appears six years ago, suggesting an alias that means he is not an easy man to work out the background of. He appeared six years ago, murdering 13 people after tricking them out of their possessions, and was on the run evading police for the next five years. He was thus nicknamed “The Trickster”. He takes immense pride in that nickname, and does his best to play up to that persona.

OOC- My reason for being so friggin’ slow on a reply: I had work, and I had to go to the Hospital.. Got my finger lodged in between two car doors, SO much fun. My pink looks like it ate an apricot.

BIC-

I remember having an argument about this with him before, but I can’t remember the exact date. I think it was the third day.. Whatever. It was all about how he thinks I have this high horse attitude. How I think I could get into his head without effort or sweat, in record time just because I was confident in myself. Clearly, his opinion hasn’t changed much, because he’s still going on about it, thinking it’ll crush my confidence in myself just that much more. He continues to under estimate me – Cocky, I know, given what’s happened and how I reacted in the past 24 hours. But, that was then, this is now. Sure.. Maybe I could have said less, maybe not seemed as annoyed as I did during my ‘Tantrum’, but kept doing that! He was beginning to sound like those game show hosts who ask you every four seconds if you’re sure on your answer or choice in something. No, I picked that bloody box because it has the most lights around. There’s a reason I ask everything, and he needs to stop assuming that I’m pulling these questions out of my ass before I ask them. Basically, his arrogance is getting to me. Whether that’s good or bad, I wanted him to get rid of it, now.

“When a bully repeats himself, Mr. Wiled, it just gets boring. They’re like cheap pain killers that your body builds immunity to after only a couple uses;” I said, without emphasis on anything; it was still, “Eventually, their effects. Ware. Off. Eventually, people stop caring what the bully dishes out because it’s the same shit over and over again. You say I think I’m this big-shot, but look at you? You have yourself so high up on your pedestal that you think you know everyone is inferior to you. I don’t know if you’ve looked around you, Mr. Wilde, but you’re Not outside terrorizing people; you're sitting in a small room with four walls, getting your jollies from making a nurse feel two feet tall. You.. Got stupid.” I was getting loud.. Excited about what I was finally getting to lash out at him. That was bad, maybe, probably. I’d stop, but not until I made my point. I didn’t want to put up with his arrogance anymore, and this may just make it worse.. But hell, it made me feel better. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, and I may never know why you get off by torturing weaker people – Oh, you’re a bully, but why? You don’t think I’ve realized my position? Who I’m talking to? You don’t think that the past couple days have shown me point blank what you’re capable of? But I still come back, day after day, and if I’m not suicidal, I must just be ignorant and moronic, right?” Now I was just beginning to feel repetitive. The entire situation was a case of déjà vu that had now twice wasted a good portion of our sessions together. It needed to end, because just as before it would go nowhere from here; we needed a new day. “Get something new to throw at me, or else very soon.. I’ll catch up to you in your game.”

Without stomping, without walking as if to say 'I won', without any noteable expression in how I was placing each foot in front of the other, I left the room. I let the door close behind me, and in a couple steps down the hallways I heard the click of the latch. Now.. What to do about the cigarette situation.

Wilde has to stop himself from laughing out loud. It's working! She actually thinks she's winning! As she rants, his urge to laugh and smirk and mock gets harder to suppress. She actually thinks she has him figured out, that she has become immune to him? That he is a one-trick-pony? She claims that he is arrogant, yet she is equally guilty of that; she has the arrogance to assume that he is not as dangerous as he seems, and that she alone has gotten through the hardest part! The thought makes him smile a little smugly, and he lets it stay; she's likely seen it, now, and if he suppresses it, she may get suspicious.

But the fact remains; he has her where he wants her. His plan is going well. As she turns and stalks out of the room, he can't resist; he claps slowly and sarcastically as she shuts the door and walks off, the sound of his palms following her.

I needed the lashes to stop. Mine, and his, until more progress was being made at a constant rate. Once I had information flowing nicely, with the payments flowing as well, I could aim at trying to make him flare up again. So far, the only flaring was mine.. Not helpful really. He would always try to piss me off, and obviously confronting him about what he does gets me no where.. He didn’t care, that was the thing. You think I would have remembered that yesterday?
“You know your shift ends at 7, right?” Karl asked, oddly starting the conversation while we were still in the elevator. Usually he doesn’t pipe up until we’re a couple steps from Mr. Wilde’s room.
“I know. Why do you ask?”
“I ask because you probably didn’t know that we have security cameras in the upper corners of the hallways.” .. As if I really needed this. No.. I didn’t know we had cameras because I’ve never seen them.. Effective. No doubt Karl was suggesting he saw the recording.. And was just trying to get me to admit it before he called me out on it. So, do I lie? Of course I do.
“I left something in Mr. Wilde’s room, that’s all. I was held up by a patient, didn’t want to disturb any of the doctors, so I got the key and went in myself.” By now the elevator door was opening, and during the short conversation we still hadn’t looked at one another. He was the first to motion towards the hallways, me following about a foot behind him.
“You never came out of the room with anything,” he paused, than interrupted before I could explain, “I don’t want an explanation.. Just don’t let me catch you doing it again. You need MY clearance to go into the rooms after your schedule, especially after your shift. Understood?” He didn’t give me a second to answer that even, before he slipped the key into the hole and stormed off. So, maybe that’s why he was such an ass to me all yesterday? He’ll cool down.. Eventually. At least one good thing came from this though; he didn’t notice my hands in my pocket the whole time, holding the cigarettes, among other things in my jacket pocket. It was all surprising though.. I though he’d fire me on the spot.

The door opened, I took the key and closed it behind me. “Good morning, Mr. Wilde.”

Wilde looks up from the book he's reading- he's already halfway through the book, and it's good; certainly not quite how Jordan would have written it, in parts, but Jordan is dead now and Sanderson has taken over. There are obvious, vast swathes that have been written by Jordan, but much of it is Sandersons work...and the way he is developing Talmanes and Cauthon is very, very good. He prefers this Mat.

He heard the raised voices outside, even through his padded walls, and offers a tiny smile. "Trouble at the home fort, girl?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, so you could hear from inside the room.. But not from the outside. I’ll have to remember to smack whoever invented these types of ‘sound proof’ walls. I’ll just guess he heard loud voices, and not necessarily the topic, so I could brush it off. Me getting caught would only give him one more thing to pick and gloat at. “Just a disagreement between an employee and her boss, I’m sorry if the ruckus disturbed you.” I said, sounding half sincere about apologizing for him hearing it. Half, because most people would have taken me literally.. But Mr. Wilde wasn’t most people.

“But, I’m going to disturb you one more time. I need you to move away from the table, so I can move it to the center of the room, please.”

Wilde stands up and moves away to the edge of the room, raising an eyebrow slightly. What is she doing? This, he didn't expect. Perhaps to give her an easier escape route? But no, that would mean that he's closer to the door as well, and the table is a useful barrier against him. So why is she moving it? He'd better just wait and see...ooh, exciting!
"This is...interesting," he says, "Whatever will you be doing, girl? I can't wait to see..."

I smiled kindly, as to say Thank You to Mr. Wilde for moving without a fuss. What, no excessive questions? No, ‘Why should I?’ Maybe he was in a good mood.. Lucky me. “You’ll see in just a moment, Mr. Wilde.” I made my way to the table, and while lifting one side of it, I dragged it to the center of the room. It made a heavy screeching sound, but with the padded walls it wasn’t a worry. I grabbed the chair next, after circling around the table and lifted it over beside it. I slid off my heels and stepped carefully onto the chair, than quickly onto the table. I was only four, maybe five inches from the ceiling at this point. Once I centered myself on the table, I took out a small, thin star head screwdriver from my jacket pocket and looked up – I was directly underneath the smoke detector.

There were four screws around the circular outside of the detector, all holding the front casing of it firmly on. I undid the last of the screws and the casing came lose, where I put everything into my pocket, holding the casing with one hand. Inside was a string of batteries, all lined up along the center. I took out the working ones, put them into my jacket and replaced them with dead batteries. Incase anyone should ever notice the small green light wasn’t flickering, there would be no suspicion as to it being tampered with. I replaced the screws, let go of the casing and cautiously stepped from the table, to the chair and to the ground. “Now, since I don’t know if your window opens or not, I highly doubt it, we’ll need to set some rules for you, Mr. Wilde.” By now it was clear what I was doing, but I wouldn’t hand over the cigarettes until he agreed to the rules.. No point in risking anymore than what I already have.

“You smoke no more than four a day. That’s sun up, to sun down. You will not smoke while I’m in the room because of the smell; I don’t need it attaching to me. You have to smoke at the table, not the bed. The less fabrics it gets to the better. This,” I pulled out a three inch tall spray can from my pocket, “Will kill the smell to an extent. It will still need time to fully spread in the room, so only smoke after the nurse who brings you your meals and such leaves, so there’s a good time period. Three sprays after every cigarette, and the smell is virtually gone. The fewer clothes it has to cling onto as well, the better. Your breath I can’t do anything about, so be careful.” I tossed the spray can onto his bed, than slipping back into my shoes. I than went into my pocket, and pulled out the pack of cigarettes, holding it in front of me to show him I had them. “Agreed?”

Wilde looks at the cigarettes with unconcealed surprise. He figured out what she was doing when she disabled the smoke detector inside the room, but that she has the cigarettes on her and she is willing to give them to him so soon? That caught him off guard, and he has no problems with letting her know that. Let her think that she's making progress. "Of course, girl," He says, reaching out for the pack as if to take it, "I wouldn't want you getting fired, now would I?" He snatches his hand back suddenly. "Although," he murmurs thoughtfully, "I don't think you want me to be lighting 'em up without you around...that would be giving me matches or a lighter, now wouldn't it? Aren't you the least bit worried about what I'll do with them?"

There he goes again.. Asking me if I've thought it over.. Unfortunately though, he had a point, and believe me it crossed my mind what could happen if I left him alone with a match.. But I just pushed those possibilities away. I couldn't be in the room with him while he smoked; the smell would stick to my clothes, and no.. Wearing as little as possible was NOT an option.. It's just disturbing. But, what could he really do with four matches? (What I would be giving him everyday) He could set his room on fire.. He'd probably die. He could try and escape.. He'd get caught. He could attack me or a nurse, but there goes his access to outside things that I give him. Ah, now I remember why I pushed the possibilities away.. He couldn't do much with them.

"I should be, shouldn't I? I'm not though.. Beucase I believe you won't screw up your chances. You want them, yes? And you've already given for them.. So I trust you to behave with them." I threw the cigarettes on his bed so they landed near the spray I'd chucked earlier. It avoided him coming to get them.. Not something I really want. "You'll also get four matches, along with the box needed to lite them. I'll refill them each day I come in so there is always four when I leave." I'll give him the matches before I leave.. Just to make sure I can tell that I can actually trust him with them fully.

Wilde inclines his head; she's smart, whether she knows it or not, and he'll have to think something else up. Oh, it's unlikely to be an issue...he would rather not hurt her immediately, after all. In fact, he has another plan forming...maybe a couple more days, and then he'll act. He'll milk this girl for all she's worth. Without so much as looking at the cigarettes, he gives her a small smile. "Well then, girl, have you any more questions for me?"

“Don’t I always?” I ask rhetorically, not in a rudely though. He seems strangely.. calm. Have you noticed no matter what emotion he gives off, it’s always a bad thing? Angry equaled.. Well, the obvious. If he was happy, you should be worried. Or.. If he seems tranquil, like right now, than you should Really be worried. So, what’s he thinking about, I wonder?

I stepped, grabbed the chair next to the table, and pulled it towards the spot I’d been standing. I sat down, crossed my legs and asked, with a smile just a bit bigger than his, “The question I asked you yesterday, Mr. Wilde.. I’m still waiting..” Let's see how far we can get with this today, hmm?

Wilde smirks. She still wants that answer? Fine, if she wants. "Remind me," He says, smooth as oil. He sits down and leans backwards in his chair, watching her intently. She seems a lot more controlled now, and that is good...it shows that she is wary of him, and that gives him much more power than simply fear. She will be over-analysing every little thing he says...and that will keep her on her toes and suspicious. He could tell her the complete truth and she would pick it apart, looking for a lie.

He would suck at poker, terribly. Yea, he could hide a lot more inside him than most people.. But that smirk was everything. So, he was thinking about something, but what? What did Mr. Wilde have planned, or what IS he planning in his head? You could say I was being paranoid.. But it’s better to be safe than sorry, if that’s possible with him. Whatever it was, he was pleased with himself, with whatever is giving him the ideas. Like just realizing you’ve slowly collected the Ten, Jack, Queen, and King of diamonds.. Just waiting for that Ace to pop up.

“The one about your favoured victim, Mr. Wilde; details and why.. Remember?”

ooc: I can't post ATM (edit later) but one thing...wouldn't he do well in poker, since the smirk makes you think, but he can choose when to do it? Lmao...

Ic:

Wilde laughs a little. "Oh yes, that one." He has been thinking about this for a while; which one would he choose? How should he present it? He thinks he's got it nailed down, but only delivering it will tell. He wants a mixed reaction from her...not completely one or the other. But, she would be suspicious if he didn't play around a little more, wouldn't she?
"What price did I set, girl, or didn't I think of one? I can't remember..." Obviously that's a lie.

So, is he stalling purposely, or just being this irritating by accident? I want to say he’s delaying the answer because he knows it’ll give me something he would have preferred I don’t know.. But I doubt that’s true. Mr. Wilde is.. Mr. Wilde, and sparking at people is what he does on purpose or by accident, either way he does it. OR, he could be just stalling to make up a lie, which again lead to the fact that I could be paying for useless information.. There were always too many options sadly.

“No, you never did, Mr. Wilde.”

"Oh," he says simply, smiling nastily. "Didn't I? Well, I suppose we should get that sorted out as soon as possible, shouldn't we? What would you be willing to give for such an answer, girl? I think I need help thinking of a price...." He chuckles sadistically. He already knows the kind of thing he's looking at, but he needs to draw it out as long as possible. Make her work for the information, make it clear that he has the power; he has the answers she wants, and unless she meets his terms, she isn't getting them.

It was pretty clear that he was having fun with this, more than he usually does. A price for him was usually simple, something he’d already thought about the second after I finished the question. This time? He was dragging it on. Trying to get me frustrated? Make me snap? Or is he seriously just lost on what to ask for a price.. Hell if I know what he wants.

“Anything that’s reasonable, Mr. Wilde. What’s something you liked to do before you were put here? Something that doesn’t relate to the reason you were put there, preferably.”

"Ha-ha!" He says, genuinely amused; she is getting better at this...of course, she is assuming that he only behaves in one way, and that his power lies only in speech. She's right, in a way, but she isn't being cautious enough. Your enemies are most dangerous when you think you understand them, after all, because then they can slip things past you as something else that you expect. Oh, she will learn soon enough.
"You are learning, girl," he says, smiling widely, "so I will give you my price. I want a change of clothes. These...drab clothes are getting stale."

I couldn't figure out why he chose clothing. The ones he is wearing are.. 'drabe', as he so puts it, but enough for them to actually bother him? Unlikely.. It didn't sit right. So why clothes? Isn't there anything else he could put to more use than a new outfit? Of course there is. I think I'll start keeping a record of everything he asks for, in order and what I got for them.. I have to be missing something. And if I'm not, and he really just does want new clothes, than at least I'll know it's that and not something I'm over looking.

I raised the right corner of my mouth, forming a half smile, not to look complimented by the 'You are learning' which I'll assume is sarcasm, but entertained by it itself. "Your sizes, Mr. Wilde?" I'll worry about the obvious problem later; The nurses couldn't see him in clothes they didn't give him without being told it was okay. Maybe Karl would believe me if I said it was therapeutic for him.. Or I didn't have to tell him at all. There's only two nurses that come in here during the day.. I could just talk to them.

"Can't you tell?" He asks in a mock-wounded tone. "I certainly am not a small...I'm a medium, possibly a large. It would please me greatly to get some new clothes...and I will give you your answer, such as it is." He laughs lightly, but the twinkle in his eye says that he has lost none of his sadism.

“I’ll get you a large, it’s better to be too big than too small.” Saying he was a large.. Was difficult to say sadly. I guess the size difference was still imbedded in my head.. Lovely. Here I thought I’d gotten slightly past that. “So, any specific style, Mr. Wilde? Or, just anything different from your current clothing?”

"Something different, preferably black...I like dark colours. I always looked good in them." he laughs, then, as if remembering something funny, and shifts his gaze to a point just past her. "I did like my dark colours...wouldn't touch any clothes if they weren't black, dark grey, dark blue or had a design of some kind on it. Not quite sure why." He laughs again.

Ah, so he dresses in colours that make him look morbid. How, not surprising.. Whatever, it makes my job a bit easier. Just pick out some clothes and walk out. It could have gone worse. “Your bottom size, Mr. Wilde. Pants don’t come in small, medium and large, I’ll need a number for your hip size. If you don’t know, check the tag on the ones you’re wearing.” It was moving slowly.. Really slowly, but at least after this I could get my answer finally.

Wilde smiles innocently. "Why don't you come check yourself?" He asks, putting on his best creepy-cute face. He cackles at the look on her face, and waves a hand. "No, I'm only kidding, Girl," he says, still laughing, "I'm honestly not sure. I just try trousers on and see if they fit me. I would say use your best judgement." He laughs again, but only partly at his comment. That was a lie, obviously; he does know his waist size, but this is all just to keep her wondering about just what is a lie and what isn't. A small thing, but it will be interesting to watch her puzzle through it for hidden meaning.

Hu.. I think I’m getting better at this.. Because that was actually funny. It wasn’t like last time he’d made a comment like there, where I was forced to look away and regain myself. This one actually made me laugh. I didn’t say anything out loud, but the growing, large smile on my face would have given it away to anyone that I was really amused by something. I guess I should have seen something like that coming though.. But the surprise of it aided in what I need to learn not say around him. Watch my words.. Even if it’s not about yourself. “I’d guess a 34inch hip.” I had a cousin who was about his size, muscular, and he had a 36inch hip, so I’ll probably end up getting tat, but somehow saying he looked smaller than that.. Just felt good. “You’ll have them the day after tomorrow, Mr. Wilde, as you’ll be without my company for tomorrow.”