❝ it was a bear, alright. hungry one at that, ❞ is barrett's rumbled reply. with the shelving now upright, he could make out faint scours of claw marks etching the metal. tufts of fur sticking out of crooks in the corners. but aside from all the physical signs, the room simply REEKED of the creature.
an adult male. black bear, maybe. stinking lightly of garbage when it went scavenging for a meal. he was only here for ten minutes, if that. gone for a couple hours.
barrett's brow twitches when he inspects the cabinets. unlike daniil, a stab of SYMPATHY hit him in his gut. hunger was something barrett understood very well.
❝ why so much morphine, doc ? ❞ barrett casually rumbles out as he approaches the broken vials of the drug.
"The state of a bear isn't my foremost concern," Daniil shoots back, carefully sweeping away the glass shards from his shattered equipment. True to form, all he can think about is the money wasted—some of the broken instruments had come directly from the last days of Thanatica.
Barrett's help is appreciated, but he's not the sort of person who would understand the terrible miasma of frustration and apathetic concession Daniil can't help but feel, looking at the minor carnage in his lab. It feels, in the moment, like he lives a doomed life—all progress will inevitably and invariably be halted by some outside force that wishes him and his research to meet its swift end.
An ill twist of fate; he'd call it that, if he believed in fate. As it stands, Daniil knows he's only unlucky.
"But if you are indeed right about the perpetrator being a bear, it almost definitely got into the morphine," a downward quirk of the lip as further antsy frustration pulls at him, "and the fentanyl, judging by the state of my cabinets. Even half of what I was storing would be lethal for a human, and it'll be about as costly to replace as an arm and a leg."
@composmentiis asked : ❝ really? i wouldn't have guessed that about you. ❞ - for barrett!
for muses that are getting to know each other ( accepting )
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with his eyes still lowered, barrett only occasionally makes glances at the other man. he was a QUIET man at the best of times - speaking about his history is a habit that had died a long time ago.
he only offers a single-shouldered shrug, pulling the tangled & dented shelving upright with very little effort. barrett's boots crunch against broken glass.
❝ spent most my life outdoors, ❞ he replies simply, moving on to the next piece of destroyed equipment. ❝ looks like a bear came through. real hungry, from the looks of it. hope you didn't have anything in here that'd HURT it, doc. ❞