Gregor has one hand, you ableist cowards

[moonshadows]

Gregor was nearly dressed when the commotion started. Deftly, he slipped the tip of one finger though the last buttonhole and braced against the edge of the button, lifting it slightly as he pushed with thumb and ring finger, the cloth hesitating slightly before sliding over and around the button. A quick glance in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable as an employee of the Limbus Company, and he left his room to see what the excitement was all about.

 

Agitated ticking greeted his ears as he made his way towards the front of the - for lack of a better word - bus. Hong Lu and Dante were standing in the middle of the aisle, the manager’s hands on his hips and Hong Lu with bandages encasing his right hand. The ticking switched to annoyed words as Gregor got close enough for resonance to convey Dante’s intent.

 

“-consequences of your dumb mistake. I am not rewinding your stupidity. It won’t kill you to have to improvise for a few days.”

 

Hong Lu wilted slightly. “But…”

 

“No.” The word came overlaid with a deep bong, the sound emphasizing the intensity of his refusal.  

 

“But I’m hungry,” the other man whined. “How am I supposed to make something to eat with one hand?”

 

Dante’s clock face tilted towards Gregor. “He manages. It’s the same hand, too.”

 

Gregor blinked as Hong Lu turned towards him with a pathetic, pleading expression. He sighed, already knowing how this was going to play out, and before the wheedling could begin he said, “I’ll show you how to make a sandwich.”

 

Hong Lu brightened at this apparent surrender and followed the other man to the kitchen area. 

 

The conspicuously open cabinets, showing off their empty shelves, only stopped Gregor for a moment. “No plates,” he said flatly. “That’s fine.” 

 

He picked up the roll of paper towels from the top, shaking it to get it to unspool slightly and then catching the corner of the paper towel between his chin and his shoulder. A tug freed the sheet, and he set the rest of the roll down before retrieving his makeshift plate and laying it on the counter. 

 

“Bread,” announced Gregor as Hong Lu hovered a few feet away, and tugged the half-eaten loaf of whole wheat towards him by its plastic wrapper, standing the loaf on end. While his ring and little fingers curled around the empty end of wrapper, he used the other half of his hand to grip the little plastic tag and twist it, freeing the bag as he lifted it to spin itself open. Then he set it down, put the tag aside, and slid his hand in to count off two slices of bread and pull them out, laying them on the paper towel before lifting the bag, again gripping the wrapper with ring and pinky fingers while his thumb and forefinger gave it a twist. When it had spun itself to a stop, he lowered it and grabbed the tag, forcing it around the tightly-twisted plastic and then shoving the bread back down the counter towards the other loaves and partial loaves. 

 

Deftly, he picked up the two slices and moved them to one side of the paper towel, fingers moving to the top slice almost in the same motion of releasing the bottom one, and he flipped it over to the other side of the paper towel. “Mayonnaise,” he said, ignoring the sharp prickles as the right arm dangling at his side went from a blunt length to something with jagged bits, silently laying odds on who was now hovering in the doorway behind him. He tugged the door of the refrigerator open, nabbing the squeezable bottle of mayo from the door and righting it with a flick of his wrist. Once upright, he braced it against his chest and held it still with his ring and pinky fingers while prying the squeeze cap open with his thumb, his fore and middle fingers providing a counter pressure on the neck of the bottle. Then he shifted his hand down to grip the whole thing securely, and squeezed uneven squiggles of mayo onto both slices of bread. Closing the bottle was as simple as setting it on the counter, thumb bracing this time as middle and pointer fingers pushed the cap down into place with a tiny click. 

 

With the bottle occupying his fingers, he used the side of his hand to push the fridge door open and place the condiment back into the door before reaching over to grab the package of sliced cheese and the deli bag of ham, using the heel of his hand this time to close the door. The arm tingled again as another set of quiet footsteps stopped at the doorway, and there was a hushed whisper. Gregor ignored it.

 

He moved the flat package of cheese off the ham and slid his fingers between the layers of the re-sealable side, pressing against the bottom layer with the backs of his ring and pinky fingers while he jammed the tips of his pointer and middle fingers into the actual zip part, feeling the seal break and turning it into a grip with his thumb, pulling the package open as he spread his fingers. His hand slid inside, fingers gently wiggling under the top slice before pulling it free. Using one side of the slice with the tips of his ring and pinky fingers holding it down, he gently turned the cheese into an improvised knife and spread the mayo squiggles into something more even before laying the cheese atop one slice of bread. 

 

More steps and whispers; Hong Lu had retreated to the doorway to let the observers know what was happening. Gregor gripped the bottom of the resealable side in a pinch, squeezing and moving up a tiny bit, listening to the little click, click, click of the plastic zipper sealing. When he got close to the top, he lifted the package by the top corner and pressed it against his chest, squeezing the air out before pinching that final little stretch shut. Then he took the corner in his teeth, pulling his pinching fingers firmly down the length of it to make sure it was sealed the whole way before putting it back on the counter and picking up the ham.

 

This time, he held the end of the zipper side between the last two fingers and his thumb, while pushing the zipper tab held between his pointer and middle fingers, ‘walking’ down the side of the bag until it was completely open. Firmly ignoring the growing crowd in the doorway, he slipped his hand inside and lifted the edge of the butcher’s paper, holding it aloft with outstretched fingers while he counted two slices with his thumb and pushed it underneath to lift them, then pinching them and pulling them up and out of the bag to lay on top of the cheese. Once again he ‘walked’ his hand down the zipper side, sliding the tab ahead of him, before lifting the package to press the air out against his chest and pull the tab the last little bit shut, the other end gripped between his teeth. 

 

With both packages in hand, he pulled the fridge door open with the side of his wrist and reached in to put them back, closing the door firmly as he turned back to the counter. The hushed anticipation spiked as he flipped the top slice of bread over onto the ham, completing the sandwich. Gregor slipped his hand underneath the paper towel and lifted it, turning at last to see that fully half the Sinners were crowded in the doorway, looking at him. As Hong Lu stepped forward, uninjured hand stretched out to receive sustenance, Gregor shifted his grip and lifted the sandwich to his mouth, taking a big bite and chewing with quiet smugness as his audience gasped. 

 

“And that,” he said once he’d swallowed, “is how you make a sandwich. Your turn,” he added, moving deliberately towards the doorway with the jagged length of his right arm slightly extended. The onlookers melted out of his way as he left the kitchen, Hong Lu standing in shock behind him.

 

Dante turned in his seat as Gregor approached, ticking in quiet curiosity, an unspoken question mark that hung in the air between them as the Sinner took his own seat, sandwich still in hand.

 

“I said I’d show him how to make a sandwich,” Gregor said, his voice hovering between sullen and smug. “I never said I’d make one for him.” 

 

The manager ticked laughter as the jagged right arm went back to something smooth and unobtrusive, and in quiet victory, Gregor ate his sandwich.