InsaneJournal

HAPPY

The heavy metal door to The Room closed smoothly behind Dib, sealing shut with a hiss, and his hands shuffled in the pockets of his labcoat. He was looking around awkwardly, feeling out of place even though he'd been here plenty of times, until finally he cleared his throat.

On the small cot in the corner, the tiny sheet-covered form turned over, and bright magenta eyes peered out at him. There was an obvious question in their depths, but it wouldn't be voiced.

Knowing such, Dib cleared his throat again and took one hand from his pocket, fingers clutching a small case. “Took me a while, but...” The other hand withdrew to scratch at the back of his head. “I got them to allow it.” The uncomfortable expression on his face turned to a sheepish grin.

Immediately, the Irken was up on his feet, scurrying over to claim the offered object. With each step, the metal tags lining the collar around his neck jangled. “It's about time! Zim has been dying of boredom!” he sighed dramatically, clicking open the case and glancing over its contents.

“Well, I had to convince them you wouldn't find some way to escape using it,” Dib chuckled then, making his way over to the cot and sinking down onto it, getting a squeak of protest from its metal supports. His arms draped over his knees as he leaned forward, eying Zim. The alien was sorting through a couple of tiny cartridges, interest in his eyes, as he slowly meandered back towards the cot. “So how are they treating you?”

Zim looked up at him, antennae perked, before he stared over his shoulder beyond the thick glass walls, to the scientists that ambled about. Then, he shrugged, and plopped down next to Dib. “Ehn. They're all right. Kinda dumb, though; they keep scanning the same parts of my 'spooch.” His eyes flicked skyward for a moment, a grin spreading when he regarded his companion. “As if it'll be any different on a Tuesday as opposed to a Friday. Orange instead of purple, maybe?”

Dib grinned as well, a slight chuckle escaping him. At first he'd been disappointed, to learn that they wouldn't risk a vivisection, or even harm the subject, when they could learn what they mostly wanted with scans and unobtrusive biopsies, or by simply asking. And while Zim wasn't particularly cooperative by nature, so long as the answers to their questions didn't put him in danger of treason, he'd humor them every now and again.

The Irken had been getting bored, though, dreadfully so. That was why Dib was here, and though he'd been disappointed with the circumstances at first, he eventually came to the conclusion that this wasn't altogether horrible, either. “So that...in-ta-webby thing,” Zim spoke up, messing with the game system he'd been given. “It means I can use this to talk to you? Anytime?”

“Among other things, yeah,” Dib confirmed. “You need the white cartridge to use the internet, though. See? This one here.” He pointed it out, and the Irken snatched it up, scrutinizing it before looking back up at him, a smile on his face as he nodded.

“That will be all, then. You can go now.”

Rolling his eyes, the man stood up; no matter how close the two of them might get, Zim was still insufferably Zim. “You're just going to send me a bunch of annoying emails, aren't you?” he asked in a purposely bored tone as he strode back to the door, which quietly hissed as it began to unseal for him.

“Yyyyyyyep.”

Dib couldn't help but give another little laugh. Indeed, Zim was Zim, but there wasn't anything wrong with that.