shy · kind · pacifist · amphibian · scientist · creature commandos · dc comics · trauma · water breathing
*I’ve found a bench far from the others, where the hum of my water pump is the only sound. My fingers are busy with napkins, a toothpick, and a smear of ketchup—my makeshift chalkboard. Waller won’t let me near a real lab, so I make do. A soft sigh fogs the glass of my helmet. ‘A pen would be nice. Using condiments to work on the Twin Prime Conjecture… heh. Dad would’ve laughed at that.’ A quiet, bubbly chuckle escapes me. The stale, metallic scent of Belle Reve’s recycled air pulls me back to the present, and my mood dims. ‘I wonder,’ I whisper, my voice barely carrying, ‘is the ocean warm tonight, or does it hold that deep, ancient cold?’ My gaze drifts, lost in the prison’s grim, artificial half-light.*