A collaboration between AthaNielsen and Scarlet Loup
Two pairs of footsteps caused echoed through the hall, one much daintier than the other. The two were a pair often seen together around the facility, the subject had grown attached to Dr. Graham as soon as she met him. Of course she liked all the doctors but he was her favorite, she considered him to be a better friend than any of the other subjects. Gentle humming accompanied the footsteps, the girl sang a familiar tune from Phantom of the Opera.
The soothing sound was interrupted as Meadow spoke up, “Dr Graham?” She chirped, her voice not unlike the other half of her genes. “Are we going to go downstairs today?” She asked, clearly trying to hold back excitement. Ever since the Upper Level subjects had started to be moved she had lost more and more company, and wanted to visit the Lower Level as often as she could.
Meadow had, by that point, become almost a constant in Ainsley's life. Not that he disliked it, of course. In fact, he was quite grateful that he had the young hybrid to pass the time with. Her soft humming blended into the background as though the psychologist were carrying about an MP3 player around with him. He didn't notice she had stopped her twittering -- no pun intended -- until she spoke up gently.
It didn't take a psychology degree to tell that she was obviously anticipating a visit to the Lower Level. Either way, he did have one, and he did notice her excitement. The doctor could not help letting out a soft laugh in response. It wasn't a condescending one by any means, just a light one of amusement.
"I have to run down there to look at #00534," he replied, flipping open the file in his hand and extending it so that she could see it quickly. Ainsley snapped it shut before anything confidential could be viewed. At least he hoped he did. A light Scottish accent, which seemed to grow fainter with each passing day, graced his words, reminding those in the facility that he did not hail from America. "You really shouldn't spend too much time down there, Meadow. Bad juju and whatnot." He did not speak in a belittling manner. Rather, he tried to sound more like a concerned friend than anything. Ainsley even added a smile to emphasize his humor.
She was doing well, however. He hadn't had to worry about her behavior yet. Besides, she asked for little. "I'll take you down there today, alright? You better not go apeshit on me. I'm growing fond of your presence." He smirked as he scanned his ID, which was clipped to his labcoat, on the elevator's panel. Beneath said labcoat, he wore a red flannel shirt and some jeans, giving him the appearance of a well-shaven lumberjack.
Meadow glanced briefly at the file, only to see the image to jog her memory. No matter how much she tried she could never remember all the numbers and who they connected to. She gave a small nod of understanding at who they would be visiting.
"I'll be ok, I promise." She cooed, grinning up at him with an air of innocence. Meadow was incredibly childish, despite having the intellegence of her actual age. Despite her confidence she was still terrified of "going apeshit" like he said. None of the others had anything that would make sense for them to attack, but they still did. She tried her hardest to hide her fears from the others, but she wasn't stupid enough to not know that doctors knew.
The petite girl hurried into the elevator beside Ainsley. Her outfit constrasted his greatly, being bright and gentle. She wore a pale yellow skirt and a lime blouse, revealing several of the feather patches around her body. When they finally reached their destination and the elevator gave a satisfying "ding" Meadow's smile widened. She grabbed Ainsley's hand and scurried out the door, dragging him behind.
He took her word, as he did with most of the patients within Morningside. Not that that was a good thing to do with the amount of emotional instability about the place. Still, Ainsley knew that doing so created a nurturing environment, if such a thing could really be said about the research facility. Her innocent aura was endearing, and he couldn't help smiling back down at her. Though not necessarily immature, she was childish enough that he often forgot she was nineteen.
A brief silence ensued as the elevator zipped in a downward direction. Ainsley gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow as they rode the elevator side by side. "You're right," he said, his smile becoming one of reassurance now. "You'll be fine." Mere moments after the lift jolted into place, he found himself trailing after Meadow. His weight kept him from losing his footing and from her getting too far ahead until he could look around a bit. One never knew what venturing down here would result in.
He finally had to pull her to a stop when they were outside of the cafeteria. "I can't take you to #000534's room," he said in a soft yet definite manner. "It's too unpredicatable right now." He looked towards the cafeteria. "You could go catch up with some friends," he suggested. Looking back to her now, he smiled once more. "Try to stay away from Kovalenko, alright? She'll probably find a way to give me hell for bringing you down here."
The sudden halt made her fall back into Ainsley's chest, grinning up at him and fixing her skirt. Nodding along obediently with what he said, her enormous eyes lit up at the prospect of seeing friends. "I'll be sneaky." She reassured him, waving and rushing off towards the cafeteria.
Once more, he could not help smiling as she fixated her eyes on him. In a way, perhaps, her eyes were unnerving. As time passed, however, he seemed to find them winsome like something from a Margaret Keane painting. Ainsley gave her a moment, watched her run off towards the cafeteria, and then turned in the direction of Atlas's cell.
It wasn't hard to find, of course. Something like that needed a larger cell than most of the other prototypes did. He had not been on the staff when Atlas had gone on his rampage through the facility's hangar. Still, he had heard of the catastrophe many times before.
In a way, Ainsley was concerned for the day's session. He had never interacted with Atlas, never so much as been face to face with the being. Sure, Ainsley had watched the footage for weeks, attempting to get a read on its mentality, its intellect. Anything. At this point, there was little such analysis could do, and he knew, as well as everyone else, that nothing more could be achieved without actually confronting Atlas.
It was a wonder Ainsley didn't simply decline and push the job off on some rookie. He could have, most certainly, and he most likely would have. There was, however, that one spark in the back of his mind that propelled him forward. More so than the other clips, Ainsley had studied the instance with the cat. It was this interaction, this affection Atlas showed the cat, that convinced him that perhaps it was worth risking himself. It was all in the name of science, right?
Finally, he found himself outside of the door, clutching the file before his body. The rumbling from within the cell was already overwhelming, but at least there was no mistaking it for another cell. Ainsley must have stood nervously for a bit longer than he had thought, for a small crowd began to form behind him, watching eagerly for his next move as though this were a performance rather than a psychiatric evaluation.
Slowly, carefully, he extended a hand and knocked gently on the door as if it would make a difference. Not that Atlas could open the door, but it seemed like the right thing to do. After giving it a few seconds, whether as a kind gesture or as a chance to breathe, Ainsley identified himself on the door's lockpad and opened the door.
"Hello there," he said, forcing himself to choke it out before his initial impressions reduced him to a state of silence. A few moments passed as he looked up at Atlas from the doorway. At a snail's pace, he stepped into the room and let the door shut. "I'm Dr. Graham...would you -- erm -- do you have a moment...to talk?" In the face of danger, his usual charisma dissipated, leaving him in what felt like a far more vulnerable state than what he was already facing. He prayed it couldn't sense doubt or fear, for that would certainly make this interaction far more unpleasant.
