standalonehuman | Recolle IC Inbox

Togusa's gaze stays on James until he is settled. Good boy. Learn to sell it, Jesus, James.

Togusa briefly looks conflicted, letting some of his real confusion about the situation seep into his tone. "It was an accident, but simple is the last word I'd use to describe it. A- distracted driver," code for 'on his god damn cell phone' "lost control of his vehicle, and when it flipped, it struck James," another quick glance at James, before he can look back at George, "pinning him underneath. EMTs at the scene did what they could, but by the time he made it to the hospital, their surgical options were- limited."

"When you couldn't be contacted, surgeons had to go with the best decision to save his life." He sounds mournful, voice tight with the emotion of the tragedy of it all, and that much is genuine.

James's sister visibly pales at Togusa's words and stares at her brother with a look of pure horror. James intentionally glances away, not wanting to see her upset and not wanting to be subjected to the look of pity. George briefly glances over to her and says, "Go to your room, Becca, I'll take care of this." She runs up the stairs, but her footsteps don't make it to her room--she is clearly listening over the staircase.

Now that she's out of the way, George brings his attention back to Togusa. "And you're telling me all this has happened since this morning?" He crosses his arms. He sounds angry, but it's not directed at Togusa himself--he's not about to shoot the messenger.

Togusa patiently waits until he can't hear the sister anymore. He wasn't sure how much to say in front of her, but at least now she knows the story. Togusa quietly huffs and frowns. "Yeah. Longest day of my life." He runs a hand over his face. Another moment where there's some truth of Togusa's frustration seeping through.

"I'm sorry." He looks back up at George. "I'm sorry this happened at all, and I'm sorry for how this played out. He was supposed to come home with an escort, somebody didn't get me the message at the hospital." He looks away. "I just wanted to know if there was anything else I could do to help."

George pinches the bridge of his nose and leans against the table, and stays that way for a few minutes. If he had his way, he'd upend the dining table right now and blow the bookcase to smithereens. But that's hardly helpful, and he needs to focus on doing what's right and helping his son.

"Yes, I want to know who the hell maimed my son and see them appropriately charged! I want to know how my son was in and out of the hospital in under a day with an amputation, and how it's even legal for him to be discharged without my knowing about it! And who the hell gave him that thing!" George points to the fake arm on the floor. His voice has definitely gotten progressively louder into shouting by now, despite his best efforts at keeping calm.

James watches from the couch, giving Togusa a guilty glance. Thanks for covering me on this.

Despite himself, there's a tension that rises in Togusa as the Lt. Col. starts to get worked up. He was right not to leave James alone to face this. The reaction is understandable, but there's no way James could manage his father's emotions and his own at the same time. The look he gives James back is one of certainty. He knows what he's doing.

"You don't have to worry about the first one, the driver didn't make it." Keeping the lower tone that he had when reporting the 'accident' in the first place.

"The hospital issues, as I said, I honestly don't know how they slipped him out of there without me getting alerted. I know they'd rather he recover at home." He glances at the arm, also, "And I'm not sure who he needs to talk to about getting a proper prosthetic." Togusa might need to have words about that arm later, because what the hell, Grell?

"The surgery's the question I can answer," Togusa tilts his head at George, "surprised you hadn't heard of it. They used surgical micro-machines," he holds up two fingers barely apart, "machines the size of a micrometer to do the surgery in risky situations like this one. It was started as military tech." With a tone as if this is commonplace, because, talking to doctors at the hospital, after Togusa learned this thing he remembered had made it into this world? They acted the same way.

George stares at the officer as if he can tell he's lying somewhere, somehow. It just smells fishy. That such a surgery could exist without him even hearing a peep about it has him skeptical...but after a few moments, he thinks, maybe it makes some sense after all.

Not that that makes this any better. What's done is done, after all. And now his family has to deal with the consequences of this driver's recklessness. Consequences that the driver will never have to face themselves, no less.

He sighs. "Alright, fine. We'll just have to roll with the punches here on out. But first thing tomorrow, I'll be taking him back to the hospital for a second look. And a prosthetic." The last portion is directed more obviously at James, but then he turns his attention back on Togusa. "Thanks for the information, officer."

In the background, James raises an eyebrow, impressed. He can hardly believe that Togusa's lie actually worked.

There are a few secrets to telling a good lie. Togusa can’t take the ‘convince yourself that it’s the truth’ route. If he had more of a choice, he wouldn’t have picked a story that wrapped up quite so neatly. So instead he’s peppering his account with as much genuine emotion as he can. What he’s showing is how he truly feels about the situation: frustration, sorrow, and heartbreak.

And a little bit of guilt that he didn’t get this whole thing figured out in time to protect James.

So he is able to meet George’s doubtful gaze until he relents. He closes his eyes and nods in response to George’s plan. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out one of his cards to hand it to George. “I know there might not be much more that I can do. But if you think of anything, dont hesitate to give me a call.”

He looks at James, “That goes for you, too.” He’ll be open about that, as well. Holds James’ eye for a second.

He shakes his head. “These are the worst, where there’s not a criminal to go after, no sense of justice. So. If I can, I would like to help.” It isn’t fair. That, too, is genuine.

James looks back at Togusa and nods. He already knows that, whatever comes next for him, whatever doctors his dad takes him to see, he's already putting his trust in Grell and Togusa. They're more trustworthy than just about anyone else at this point by virtue of being on Retrospec.

George takes the offered card and stares at it a moment, then back up at Togusa with a look of exhausted skepticism. "Help with what, exactly, officer?" After all, the perpetrator's already dead. Like he said himself, there's no justice to pursue in this case. What more can the police offer?

Togusa finally balks at the question, and his shoulders visibly slump. "I don't know. But, days like this don't sit well with me. If there is something else I can do, I want to know about it." Like with James, this isn't Officer Togusa making the offer, but just Togusa. Even if it's outside of his official capacity.

But he should go before he overstays his welcome, so he nods to George. "I'll leave you to it." His eyes settle on James, and he gives one more serious nod. He's said all that he truly needs to. And deep down, he is grateful that James is even allowing someone to help him when he needs it. Today was the worst day of James' life, one of the worst of Togusa's. But it could have gone even worse.

James returns the nod, hoping that the message gets across with the one gesture: I'll be fine, I can take it from here.

George sighs again, this time more resigned than annoyed or anything else. He gives the card another look before tucking it into his pocket and leading Togusa to the door.

"Thank you." He's said it already but he feels the need to reiterate--this time in a more general sense. "Have a good evening."

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