Chapter Text
Simon was getting tired of the Doctor's extreme list of nicknames for him- Bud, Pal, Friend, Kangaroo, Rainbow Trout and John Doe- when Ryland was talking to the Rock alien things or writing notes about his “treatment”. (He might’ve taken a peak at the clipboard, god forbid he does? Can’t a guy be curious? He’s allowed to know what’s the fuck is wrong with him.)
But his final straw was alligator. Simon doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told Ryland his name. He hasn’t been pressured either, he’d just gotten annoyed at the growing number of nicknames that this… unconventional doctor has given him. They made no sense, and it pissed him off, so yes. He felt inclined to question it.
Ryland paused at the door, his hand on the doorway, nails tapping. He noticed that nervous habit of tapping from the man. He didn’t mind it truthfully. It wasn’t that bad, he spaced it out enough that it didn’t annoy him.
“Well, I wasn’t calling you an alligator. It’s a saying. Um, you're supposed to reply with, in a while, crocodile.”
Ryland explained, turning around, his glasses were looking like they were about to fall roght off his face. He noted the man never really wore them right, does he want them to break or something? Or is he just a lazy idiot?
“Right.”
Simon replied, short and quick. His tone was low, it was almost a whisper. Truthfully, he didn't think he could speak any louder, he was afraid to raise his voice. (He doesn’t want to apologize for being too loud, for being too angry.)
Ryland was right beside him again, sitting in his chair at Simon's level. He still felt like he was being treated like a child, being coddled, being treated like he was fragile. He was a grown man, he was the reason for.. Hm.
The doctor was speaking again. Simon wasn’t paying attention. He huffed in response to whatever Ryland was talking about.
“Do you always talk so much?”
Simon asked. He was a bit surprised at himself for genuinely trying to talk to Ryland. He didn’t know what had changed, maybe he'd gotten bored with brooding.
Ryland stopped at that, he looked like he wanted to say something else before he sighed and looked away to the ground.
Simon hummed, going back to the laptop. Using the touchpad to look through files, he still wanted to find those books Ryland talked about.
“I think we might’ve gotten on the wrong foot.”
Ryland said, after a few minutes of quiet, (Simon wished it would’ve stayed quiet.) Ryland ran his hands down face, grabbing his hanging glasses and pushed them back on his nose.
“Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Ryland Grace. My friends call me Grace.”
Rylands reintroduced himself, offering a hand to Simon. He stared at it for a moment, and scoffed- Ryland turned his head away. bringing his hand back to the side with a slightly defeated sigh. He was tapping his fingers on the chair again as he looked to his feet, clearly debating if this was a good idea. Simon pitied the Doctor extremely so, would his opinion of Simon change if he brought up the fact he was a convict?
“Simon.”
He replied, he didn’t know why he suddenly felt inclined to finally introduce himself. It took him long enough, he supposed. Rylands clapped his hands again with a big grin, bigger than any other smile that Simon had seen before, creepy.
“Great! It’s nice to meet you properly Simon!” Ryland exclaimed in response. “I was getting kinda tired of having to call you John Doe to the Edrians— you know?” He dryly chuckled, like that was funny. It wasn’t that funny, is Ryland broken? Is his humor that shitty?
“Am I allowed to be alone now?”
Simon asked. He was unsure if he was allowed to request that. He wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do or say, but he badly wanted to find those books on the laptop and read until he fell into a dreamless sleep once more. He would rather be alone, he likes to be alone. It’s what he’s used to. It’s what he knows.
“Oh— heck! Right. Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair—“ Rylands scrambled to get up, laughing slightly as he made his way out. “See you later, alligator—“
“I’m not fucking doing that.” Simon interrupted him with a blank expression, that’s fucking stupid.
“Right— okay. Uh. Bye Simon.”
Ryland was gone, Simon was left alone.
He decided he didn’t really like the quiet that much, but there wasn’t much he could do.
Giving up on trying to find something interesting on the laptop, he set it aside. Leaning back down on the hospital bed (though it felt more comfortable than the ones he remembers), grabbing the blanket and pulling it over his shoulder.
Sleep might do him some good. Even if he hasn’t been awake for that long, he’d gotten tired already. (He blames the drugs they keep pumping him with.) He doesn’t have much to do in the first place but rest and silently judge the man's actions.
He closed his eyes and entered another dreamless slumber.
When Simon awoke again, the first thing he notices is a box with his name on it on a table next to him. Ryland must’ve left it when he was asleep, Great.
He scoffed as he leaned over to pick up some of the items from the box. The first thing he grabbed was a small circular plush thing. It was blue with hints of green, the colors obviously well-worn.
He squished it in his palm before letting it rest on his lap. He moved to grab another item. It was on the softer side material wise, less rough than the circular plush. He pulled it to sit in his lap. It was a sweater, he ran his fingers through the fabric, it reminded him of his sweater before. Though this one wasn’t made of patches of salvage fabric, it felt shockingly nice.
He didn’t actually know how he put it on, lacking an arm and all. He’d figure it out. He’s resilient like that, he isn’t going to let a missing arm fuck him over. There was one more thing in the box, he reached over and pulled out a small potted plant.
He stared at it, he cupped his hand around it. Holding it as far away from himself as he could, he didn’t want this around him. He doesn’t know why, but he feels a sudden panic rising in his chest over a damn plant. He threw it back in the box, without a care how fragile it was.
He ran his hand through his hair with a steady exhale, going back to feeling the soft fabric of the sweater. Trying to keep himself together.
What is his problem? Why is he like this suddenly?
Stupid fucking Ryland Grace, giving him stupid (likely) personal items. His own personal items.
A part of Simon wanted Ryland to come into the room and Simon wanted to snap at him, yell until his voice went raw, but he doesn’t know why he would be so angry. Shouldn’t he be in debt to the man..? He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in this situation, they didn’t really tell him how to deal with someone who’s.. just so fucking nice?
He exhaled again as he reached over back to the small potted plant in the box, it was luckily not broken.
He was actually quite relieved by that, so he set it on the small table joined by the circular plush. He didn’t really get why he was given this but he’s (even if slightly) grateful, just a little decoration for the hospital(?) room. (Though Simon has been imagining it more as a cell, it brought him more comfort than the concept of being in a hospital.)
He found where he set the laptop and went back to his mindless scrolling through the files, might as well kill some time before Ryland shows up.