prodigalson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
prodigalson) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-02-09 02:15 pm
prodigalson) wrote in damned_institute2011-02-09 02:15 pm
NIGHT 54: West Wing, South Hall 1-B
[From here.]
... this was not a good sign. Edward was used to the single hallway his room was in being empty considering how it was part of the last row of rooms, but once he stepped outside the block there had always been a few stragglers wearing the tell-tale gray slacks. Unconsciously, he pulled the pillowcase closer to him. He wasn't stupid. This was... odd.
Two hallways without a single soul in sight. Maybe it was his pace. It was hard to tell if it was merely human or not; all he knew was that he couldn't stop now. He wished he could be selfish and say it was only worry that pushed him, but his throat was rough and dry. Thirst helped. It always did. It had the driving force of a wrecking ball and the insistence of fatal pain.
[To here.]
... this was not a good sign. Edward was used to the single hallway his room was in being empty considering how it was part of the last row of rooms, but once he stepped outside the block there had always been a few stragglers wearing the tell-tale gray slacks. Unconsciously, he pulled the pillowcase closer to him. He wasn't stupid. This was... odd.
Two hallways without a single soul in sight. Maybe it was his pace. It was hard to tell if it was merely human or not; all he knew was that he couldn't stop now. He wished he could be selfish and say it was only worry that pushed him, but his throat was rough and dry. Thirst helped. It always did. It had the driving force of a wrecking ball and the insistence of fatal pain.
[To here.]
no subject
Gumshoe was confident that Detective Badd would be fine. All the same, he wouldn't mind if they happened to bump into each other. The younger detective knew what he was doing, of course (if a detective like himself couldn't manage it, what hope did the other prisoners have?). But on the rare occasion when things got a bit jumbled (even for him)--which might very well happen the older the night got--a second opinion was really helpful.
Who knew what was out there waiting for them?
Out of the people he'd met here from home (It's down to the five of us now, right?), Ms. Skye and her little sister were the only ones he didn't know that well. His scrappy collection of newspaper clippings (in all their jagged, yellowing glory) and the State vs. Skye TV specials over the past year hadn't told him what they were like as people (beyond what he'd learned from the short time they had spent together. And the odd call from Ema Skye, but those had been short, too. Long-distance rates were criminal in this day and age!).
Anyway, the point was he couldn't accurately predict what they might be doing tonight, with or without his finely-honed detective instinct. Maybe they had enough common sense to stay in their rooms, unlike the people he kept passing in the corridor.
Not likely, the detective mused with a sigh. He'd better go make sure.
The soft scuff-scuffle of slipper on tile stopped. Gumshoe had mistaken the locked-up Nurse's Station (that was what his map said it was) for the Womens' Block before. Thankfully, that wasn't the case this time. However, something up ahead did catch his eye. He turned away from the F Block entrance, raising an eyebrow at the solitary figure at the end of the hall, then headed towards them.
Curiosity prevailed once again.
no subject