Day 61: Sun Room [Second Shift]

[baniichan]

Even if he hadn't eaten much, the time to himself had helped improve Barnaby's overall state of mind. Despite the grueling insomnia that had plagued him before his arrival, he felt remarkably well rested now. Maybe he didn't agree with all of this Landel's Institute's methods, but there was no denying that he was much more stable than before.

Of course, he hadn't managed to shake the knot of unease tightening in the pit of his stomach, nor the restlessness that seized him when he thought of all of the recent revelations concerning Ouroboros, as well as his own recollections of that Christmas Eve nearly 21 years ago. Ill or not, he didn't have time to sit in a hospital right now. He needed to talk to Mr. Maverick.

Studying his bare wrist, Barnaby inwardly sighed as he stepped out of the cafeteria. Though his knee-jerk reaction earlier this morning had been to assume that someone from Apollon would get in touch with him shortly, he realized that he may not be in any state to continue with his hero work. The fact that the doctors had deemed it necessary to confiscate his PDA said more than anyone here was willing to tell him to his face.

That didn't mean they had a right to take his cell phone, though. Unfortunately, when he asked about it, his nurse thought otherwise.

"Like I said, Mr. Banks, this program doesn't allow for outside contact with friends and family except under specific circumstances," she reminded him.

"Brooks," he flatly stated.

The nurse blinked. "Excuse me?"

"My name isn't Banks," he corrected her. "It's Brooks -- Barnaby Brooks Jr." The nurse glanced down at her clipboard and nodded in understanding.

"Of course it is, dear," she said in a tone that conveyed that she was just humoring him. Barnaby's fingers curled into a fist at his side, but otherwise his face remained remarkably composed.

"I understand if you feel the need to downplay my presence due to my occupation," he spoke in slow, measured words, "but you'll have to excuse me if I find your methods extreme and, quite frankly, unnecessary." Combined with the Head Doctor's poor excuse for an announcement a few moments ago, their conversation just made Barnaby conclude that this facility was being run a bunch of incompetent morons. Barnaby had no intention of causing a scene, but he wasn't going to just roll over and let the staff treat him like a child, either.

"That said, I'd like to look at the paperwork that was signed the day I was committed here," he stated, his shoulders squared as he look his nurse right in the eye. "I should know what my rights are."

"I'm afraid I don't have the authority to do that."

"Then put me in touch with the person who does."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, either."

Frustration welled up inside Barnaby, and he took a small breath. He couldn't wait to get in touch with his attorney later. "Then what, exactly, can you do?"

The nurse smiled. "Take you to the recreational field, of course. The other male patients are there now. Wouldn't you like to make some friends?"

Barnaby folded his arms, his cool gaze falling onto a bulletin board located along the wall. "Actually, I'd rather stay in the sun room and read what's over there, if you don't mind." He didn't catch the flicker of disappointment on the nurse's face, though he wouldn't have cared much even if he had. As long as he wasn't hurting anyone or himself, they didn't have the authority to dictate how he spent every second of his time.

"We do allow patients to stay here during activity shifts, so I suppose you can do that," she said, albeit a bit reluctantly.

Barnaby nodded. "All right, then." With that, he made his way over to the bulletin and began to peruse through the notes. Perhaps he'd learn a little more about this place and how some of the other patients could even stand being here.

[For Renamon!]

Comments

[rocksthecourt]

It had been quite a while since Klavier found himself faced with so many conflicting emotions upon waking. At first, he'd been confused. Everything had changed. The soldiers, the uniforms, even Herr Kommandant... they were all gone. Disappeared as though it had all been nothing more than a passing dream. Only in this case, it was simply a case of replacing one nightmare for another. Whether soldiers or nurses, the tune was exactly the same. They were all still trapped there.

But even so, he'd foolishly felt some kind of optimistic relief when his morning had started with a nurse's cheery smile rather than barking orders. Yes, his inquiries were met with confusion on her end, but he hardly found it off putting. He'd long since given up on getting answers from the staff. And he was so happy to see her back that he didn't even care about her being ignorant and uncooperative.

This, however, was short-lived. Because as soon as his nurse started talking about getting breakfast, Klavier finally realized what exactly a change in uniform meant. Namely, the fact that he wouldn't be able to hide the embarrassing gauze pad taped to the upper side of his head under a hat anymore. It was something he hadn't had to worry about too much outside the showers. But as things were now... it was embarrassing just to have the nurse see it, let alone the entire populace.

Unfortunately, the woman didn't seem at all understanding of his plight, and this led to an argument that lasted almost the entirety of breakfast. Klavier was stubborn normally anyway. But this? This he would allow absolutely no leeway for. Because he absolutely, positively refused to go out looking like this. And asking him to ignore it was almost as impossible as asking him to excuse the grating twang of a poorly tuned instrument. It simply could not be done. But in the end, Klavier found himself here, his shame bare for all to see and nothing but hunger rewarding him for his stubbornness.

Despite how painfully self-conscious he was, however, there was absolutely no way he was going to meekly huddle in a corner and hide himself. No, no. He simply grit his teeth behind closed lips and walked in just as he normally would. He even smiled as he did so. A big arrogant grin, at that. Oh he was embarrassed, yes, but that feeling just made him want to flaunt himself that much more, facing it head on and sweeping it aside all at once. Yes, that's right. He is Klavier Gavin and he has a bandage on his head. Problem? No? Good.

With that settled, he walked over to the bulletin board to see what bits of "daily" gossip" he may have missed so far. He certainly hoped whatever was up was well worth all this hassle.

[secretly grumpy as hell, but freeeee]

[fourstonewalls]

Winter wasn't something most Angelenos relished, except as an occasional thing one drove up into the mountains to ski in. Lana was just as happy to avoid going outdoors even for the short path to the greenhouse.

Hmm. Klavier Gavin was, if one could accuse a prosecutor of doing any such thing, loitering near the bulletin, looking like he'd spent his entire life gearing up for nothing other than standing around a facsimile of a mental institution. Whatever else the young man had, or didn't, he certainly had style. Lana didn't try to match it; she merely walked up to the board and started flipping through the notices.

She paused on one, not quite smiling at it so much as looking a little less grim, and then went on until she ran across handwriting that she knew she'd seen before, but she couldn't be completely sure. The description of the girl and the fact that his natural inclination had been to catalog any discrepancies, despite what had to have been an unnerving sight, made it more likely.

"And how has patient life been treating you, Prosecutor Gavin?" Lana said, without turning away from considering what she was tentatively tagging as Byrne's description. "I suppose it's better than the alternative."

[rocksthecourt]

Strangely enough, the bulletin board seemed relatively peaceful today. With the exception of a few, most were people checking in with one another or asking to meet. Not to say he was complaining, mind you, but it was interesting. Either people were being quieter or the more antagonistic members of the populace were dwindling. The latter possibility wasn't really something to celebrate. Disappearances were bad, no matter who they were.

The other exceptions on the board proved to be fairly interesting, though. The one asking for more information regarding the sudden power shift, for example. Convenient, that.

According to this, apparently... the shift happened two nights ago. In other words, he had lost quite a bit of time. Again. Not exactly a thought that sat well with him, if he were to be honest. Even if he were to ignore that little detail, he wasn't sure how to feel about the entire thing. Was this good or bad? What were these power struggles supposed to mean exactly?

A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts immediately, and he turned to eye the woman next to him before widening his smile in recognition. Ah. Former Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye, wasn't it? Hah. Admittedly, it was difficult to look at her face and not first see the striking resemblance to Fräulein Detective. It would probably be a while before he stopped doing a mental double take.

"Aha~ Despite all these changes in management? About the same as usual, I would say." He turned to regard her. "And you, Frau Skye? I do hope this place has been treating you well. Relatively speaking."

[fourstonewalls]

"I haven't made my mind up as to which I prefer." Her lips twitched. "I suppose I'll get to see something similar happen at home, provided they ever see fit to send me there." Seeing Gant again was going to be...interesting. She'd prepared herself for accusing him, breaking the silence, but not for seeing him alive after watching him bleed out practically in her arms.

"I've been well, as has Ema." If he couldn't figure out what that emphasis was implying, he didn't deserve his badge. "I'm glad that you, at least, can say the same." That lazy confidence worried her; whether it was genuine or a front she couldn't tell. A few years ago she would have trusted it without question; she'd been very young. About the age he was now, and still so sure she knew everything.

She didn't have the heart, or the ability, to break that for him. Though she could make one recommendation. "I've been taking some self-defense classes -- whether or not they'll make a difference I don't know, but it seems remiss not to try."

[rocksthecourt]

Yes, he understood. All too well, actually. And that referred to both her first and second statements, neither of which he was going to touch for sake of courtesy. Just because he had been here a while didn't mean he had grown jaded regarding people getting injured or disappearing. Often times, it was worse to see it than to experience it. So he knew enough to leave that be without prying.

He also remembered her situation regarding her position back home very well. And although he couldn't say he found her forging evidence as anything close to admirable, no matter what her reason, he could at least respect the fact that she openly admitted it and seemed fully prepared to face the consequences head on. It was at least a little more honorable than the alternative. Brave, even. So no, he didn't feel sympathy for whatever punishment she faced upon returning home, but he had no intention of rubbing it in her face either. It simply was what it was. Though, hah, what a mess that must have been to deal with, hm?

In any case, he left both be without comment, although his expression faded to something a little softer when she mentioned Ema. ...He was glad. Both Ema and her sister had remained unharmed despite their environment. Last he had spoken to Ema, her spirits seemed to be better as well. ...And Ms. Skye didn't seem like the type that broke easily. It also seemed that Ms. Skye was thoroughly on top of her sister's condition, which likely meant they were still sticking together. He was glad for that as well.

"...Self-defense classes?" he repeated, obviously a little astonished. Without thinking, his eyes immediately flicked over to the bulletin board, over to one of the posts he had just glanced over a moment ago requesting something similar. ...Interesting. Normally he would be completely skeptical of such offers, figuring they were either a trap or a code for something else. Yet Skye was saying whatever she was participating in was legitimate. ...It still didn't sit completely right with him.

"Isn't th--? Ah. That is to say... I agree to a point. I doubt such a thing would be a useless effort, by any means. Any little advantage one can get here may ultimately prove to make all the difference in the end, ja?" It made logical sense when you thought about it that way, but still. "Though I am surprised to hear such 'classes' even exist here, I must admit." He turned back to her, frowning a little in attentive curiosity. "...What kind of 'self-defense' is this precisely?"

Admittedly, Klavier was a little concerned as to what the answer might be. Regardless of what moralistic mistakes she may have made in the past, she was still a prosecutor. So he had an expectation of her not participating in anything... unseemly. However, the same did not go for whoever her 'teacher' was. What kind of things would these people teach? And how many people here had they taught? ...Did this have anything to do with the History Club, he wondered.

[fourstonewalls]

"Anything I can learn. My roommate is a military scientist, and she's shown me a few things." He might not think it useless, but he obviously didn't quite agree with her choice, either. "It's rather hard to investigate when one's jumping at shadows, after all."

That wasn't why. She'd seen enough, and there was stubbornness and then there was just idiocy; if she were by herself, she'd do things differently. Though, to be perfectly honest, if only with herself, whether that would lean towards caution or reckless self-endangerment, she wasn't entirely sure.

"I spoke to someone on the bulletin, who was willing to see if they'd let us practice outside this afternoon. Though I'm afraid I can't invite you -- you're pretty, but not that pretty." She smiled, gently, turning what could have been critique or uncomfortable praise into merely what it was: the truth.

"Mostly I've had a few lectures in running away, and a very basic refresher on how to throw a punch." She understood why the former had been necessary, but once had been enough. At least Ema had listened to Renji, when she wasn't quite as happy listening to her sister.

"I take it you haven't found the nightlife here too limiting?"