Day One, Greenie.

[wegotarunner]

[Open Spam]

[Thomas arrives on the deck of the ship with a look of weariness not only on his features, but one that's settled into his shoulders. Chuck's carving is still clutched tightly in his hand. There's still blood on his clothes. On his hands. His face is streaked with dirt and sweat and blood from a cut above his eye and another on his cheek.

So this is the Barge.

He looks up at the sky with wide eyes, momentarily distracted by the sight and forgetting the events of the last few hours. But only momentarily. He blinks himself out of his dazed stupor and rubs a hand over his face. It takes him a moment to get his bearings. The first thing he needs to do is find his room, and take a long, hot shower. Change his clothes. Get something to eat. It's been hours since he last ate anything and his stomach isn't happy about it.

And then he's going to explore the Barge, find out where everything is. Figure out what to do from there. He's sure there's a lot to learn about this place, about the people he's now sharing space with. He's not completely thrilled about having to meet a whole slew of new people. People who won't know him, who will probably treat him like an outsider. Like he's not to be trusted.

Truthfully, he's still not sure should be. He remembers Newt's words. That who he used to be doesn't matter, it's who he is now that counts. And he can't save them if he focuses on things he can't do anything about. He has to stay focused.

For Newt. For Minho. For Teresa. For Alby. Ben. Even for Gally.

But most of all, for Chuck.]

[Video]

[Thomas appears on screen looking better than he had only an hour ago for those who ran into him on the way from the deck to his room. He's cleaned up, all the blood and sweat and dirt gone from his skin. The cut above his eye and the one on his cheek are still there but they look a little less angry now. He also looks a little hesitant, like he's not sure about this.]

Someone said I should introduce myself.

I'm Thomas.

Comments

Spam - Deck

[takeyouapart]

[His gut ties itself in knots because, yes, he knows exactly how that feels.]

You have cuts on your face. They're definitely yours, and they'll only get worse if you leave them.

[He tilts his head toward the stairwell, his voice quietly insistent.]

You look like you haven't rested in days. Let me help you.

[surfaceshine]

[Dean studies this for a long time before he bothers saying anything. By the time he reaches for the communicator he's certain it isn't Stiles, or a version of Stiles; the body language is different, is what sells it. He knows better than most that the shellshocked look and the hollows in the cheeks are all a matter of circumstance and timeline, but the body language doesn't lie.]

Anyone warned you yet?

[patheticvillain]

So. Thomas, huh?

I'm Cassel. You know what you're doing here yet?

spam

[broughtwhiskey]

[He's been on the Barge about two and a half months and he still rejects the idea that he should be around people, that he ought to take any time to get to any of them. He's content to be as isolated as possible, holing up in his cabin. But he can't stay in there forever. Sometimes he needs to leave for more than just the basic necessities. He just needs to be away from it, from the memories.]

[The deck is one of the few places Philip can ever be found, but he likes it better than anywhere else on the Barge. It's not artificial like the Enclosure, but it's just as open. When he gets there and spots Thomas, he thinks for a brief second it's the other boy who had been so eager to be as helpful as possible. But upon a second glance, he notices something subtly different about this one in the way he stands and carries himself. At the very least it wouldn't be how...he thinks his name is Stiles would look covered in that much blood and grime. Philip believes Stiles would break under those kind of circumstances.]

[It's only because it's not Stiles that he says anything as he takes a seat at one of the benches.]

You should probably head down to the infirmary.

[forgetyourusedtobe]

Nice to meet you, Thomas, I'm Elena.

Has someone given you a rundown of the place yet?

[wegotarunner]

[As she probably expects, he has no idea what she's talking about. His eyebrows furrow. He definitely doesn't remember that. Then again, there's not much he does remember, so it probably shouldn't be a surprise, and it shouldn't catch him off guard. It still kinda does. But only a little.]

Oh.

spam

[wegotarunner]

How do I find it? My room? How do I know which one it is?

[He has no idea how to go about doing that. Or if his room will have a shower or a bathtub. The guy's apology surprises him, though.]

Why are you apologizing?

Spam - Deck

[wegotarunner]

I just want to shower.

[Weariness cuts into his tone. A shower, and maybe a few hours of sleep, assuming he actually can. He's hungry, but he's eaten since he slept last and he needs to prioritize.]

But thank you, for the offer. What's your name?

[wegotarunner]

[He nods a little, confirmation that it's his name.]

Yeah. To help out.

[To set things right.]

Re: Spam - Deck

[takeyouapart]

[He doesn't push. There's probably nothing he can say; he knows there was nothing that could be said to him.]

Merlin. I'm a warden here, and a physician at the Infirmary. What's yours?

[wegotarunner]

Hi, Letty.

[He's less startled now to see another girl. After having met Lydia and talked to Tiffany, he's settling into the idea that there are a lot more girls here than there are in his memory.

But he shakes his head a little at the mention of finding something insane. This is strange, sure. But so was waking up in the Glade. He wonders if there's anywhere that isn't strange, really.]

How new is fairly new?

[wegotarunner]

[He doesn't recognize the face that appears on the video feed. It isn't surprising, but part of him keeps thinking one of the other Gladers is going to suddenly be there.]

Warned me about what?

spam

[wegotarunner]

[He doesn't have the option of breaking. People are counting on him and he can't let them down again. He turns toward the sound of the new voice, not sure what to think about an older man being there. Everyone else he's run into so far has been fairly young. He notes the eye patch over the man's right eye, but says nothing about it.

It makes him wonder, again, what caused Newt's limp. He shakes the thought off and draws in a breath.]

That's what everyone keeps telling me.

[He's not great at listening.]

[lydiascreams]

[She takes a deep breath and picks up her communicator, scrolling back to her own message, then showing it to him.]

Here.

[wegotarunner]

[He manages a very faint smile at her greeting. Something about her immediately reminds him of Teresa, but he's not sure what it is.]

I've heard bits and pieces, yeah. I mean I knew a little before I got here. Just not all the specifics.

[audio]

[wegotarunner]

Oh. That's not much older, though.

[audio]

[tucky]

[She shrugs.]

Still an adult, though. And most of the people here are older than me, I think.

We got some teenagers, though.

[forgetyourusedtobe]

Well, if you have questions, never hesitate to ask. Some people might grumble a little bit if you post it to the network, but I'd say don't listen to them. It's better to know as much as possible.

But if you don't want to listen to their grumbling, I'd say ask anyone who's been here a while.

[Elena makes no distinction between asking a warden or an inmate. Both opinions are valid as far as she's concerned.]

And if you need a tour, I'd be happy to show you around unless someone else beat me to it.

[wegotarunner]

[He eyes her warily for a moment, then looks down at the device in her hand, staring at the conversation that the two of them had, but that he has no memory of.

One more thing he doesn't know about his life shouldn't matter. Shouldn't make a difference. He rubs a hand over his face, his fingers curling around the carving in his other hand. Chuck's.]

Yeah, I don't remember any of that.

[lydiascreams]

[He looks like he's been through a lot. Most of them have been when they get here, though. So she doesn't wanna ask him why he's here.]

Do you want me to help you try to find your cabin? Or maybe get something to eat?

spam

[withtheoldbreed]

Because this is a lot to wrap your mind around without a lotta warning.

[And he knows how surreal it all feels after you've gone through something that's left you covered in someone else's blood.]

I had a key in my pocket when I got here. [Which he hadn't realized at first, because his uniform's got lots of pockets and he had a lot of other things on his mind at the time. But:] It should be somewhere familiar. I recognized my door.

[audio]

[wegotarunner]

[He's actually kind of relieved to hear that. There hadn't been any actual adults in the Glade. And the ones at WICKED had been killed. Or killed themselves.]

There are a lot of people here, then?

Spam - Deck

[wegotarunner]

[Physician. It takes him a second to place the word. Doctor. Med-Jacks, as the Gladers called them, even though none of the guys had a medical degree.]

Thomas.

[audio]

[tucky]

Nah, not a lot. Maybe a hundred?

Re: spam

[broughtwhiskey]

[People always notice the eyepatch. They glance at it briefly and do everything they can not to look at it again to avoid being rude, or they stare at it and try to make their gawking look like good eye contact. Either way, they have questions about it. It's obvious. But none of them say anything about it. After a while, nobody notices it or thinks anything of it.]

Well then sorry to be repetitious, [he says with a slight smile. His head tips to one side as he regards Thomas a little more thoughtfully.] That blood isn't yours, is it?