damned_institute | Day 56: Black Rock Inn (morning)

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Day 56: Black Rock Inn (morning)

Five boondollars wasn't going to go very far. Nor would a couple of tickets for restaurants and salons, unless Mystic Healing Spa was a euphemism for more prosaic forms of repair work. Since she hadn't been injured aside from her pride, last night, it was superfluous either way.

Rose would have to be circumspect in her purchases. No new laptop. Five minutes at an internet cafe might be pushing it. Maybe she could find a connection just lying around. It wouldn't be the first time.

The largest building bordering the park looked promising. Black Rock Inn. Real life didn't come with save points, but what kind of adventurer would she be if she didn't hit up an inn or two? Sentimental nonsense, of course, but she couldn't rely on the designers being as immune to its wiles as she was. She strolled over to the door, and flung it open as if she owned the place.

The inside was, in a word, quaint. A fireplace burbled merrily away, welcoming weary souls with its dancing, ephemeral visage, and an empty bar promised ale and wenches to roaming heroes who had reached the age of wanting one or both temptations.

Rose just wanted an internet connection. Or a clue. Really. She wasn't picky. Any sort of indication towards the next step would be welcomed with open arms. If by open arms one meant biting sarcasm, of course.

[free!]

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Even if the word had reverberated through his mind for the entire trip, the icy bite of the wind was enough to shade over thoughts of Doyleton as 'artificial', as Landel's previous comments had suggested in the notes from the night before. While the cold still didn't match up to winter in Berlin, it still proved enough to leave him questioning how any of this could be a construct. How could it not be real? Perhaps Landel was referring to a more figurative definition of artificial; a false sense of peace, perhaps, or of safety. That was certainly true, after the zombie attack from two weeks earlier.

All he had to do, however, was remember just how skilled a wizard Landel was when it came to weaving his illusions. If he could create a false death, a living shadow, a perfect replica of home, how was one sleepy town out of the question?

It didn't, he decided firmly, particularly matter at that precise moment. First he needed to meet with L again and come to a decision about what they were to be doing with the day. Part of him still felt drawn to the Doctor's office, but with the clumsy mess he and Mello had made of it last time still weighing on his mind (and, doubtless, the mind of the receptionist) he didn't see how that could possibly bear fruit. He had money, this time, but it was clear enough from his last trip and from the military heavies roaming the area that there was nothing useful that he could buy with it.

Lunge stepped into the lobby of the Black Rock Inn and felt his face colour with the sudden rush of heat over the hefty knot of his scarf, which he loosened almost immediately. He would have liked to had a tie to wear, but the pile of his shirt, pants and heavy trench coat presented to him by his escort that morning had decidedly lacked one. Speaking of escorts- curious, that they were going to be undercover. If Doyleton truly were artificial, wouldn't the reactions of the townspeople be a moot point anyway?

Taking a seat by the fire, he peeled off his gloves, laced his fingers and awaited L's arrival. They still had much to discuss.

L watched Lunge move away from the buses, then, seeing where he was headed, made his own way in that direction.

The park might have been slightly more private, but the weather made spending much time there--spending much time outside at all, except in moving from place to place--out of the question, and they would still have been watched. Anyone who chose to sit and chat in the snow when they could be inside might be subject to more attention and suspicion than otherwise, rather than less. Their nonintuitive behavior would suggest that they had something to hide.

The abandoned building that he and Howell had met Marc in a week earlier was another possibility, but it was a considerable distance from the place where the buses dropped the patients off, and there was no guarantee that either L or Lunge would be able to slip away from the guards to get inside; even if they could, it wouldn't be heated. He was still interested by the structure's imperfection, the way it contrasted with Doyleton's near-cinematic flawlessness, but he had to dismiss it as irrelevant for the time being. The alternative was to think in circles about whether it made the town seem more or less real. He could construct logical arguments to support either stance, and he suspected that the answer wasn't important enough to be worth his focus--not yet, anyway.

The weather presented a larger problem than just the question of where he and Lunge should meet to continue their discussion. It also made it unlikely that he would be able to get back out to the old town any time soon, or to the mine that Jones had mentioned. He could endure these bitterly cold conditions if he was properly prepared and supplied, and a good lead was prompting the attempt, but he wasn't willing to risk losing digits to frostbite over strictly hypothetical clues. For at least the next night or two, he'd have to stay indoors.

Walking the short distance to the Inn in daylight when it was well below freezing was uncomfortable enough. The new white snow crunched under his feet wherever it hadn't been cleared, and he noticed several pairs of footprints heading towards his destination: one that certainly belonged to Lunge, and two smaller sets. He knew that the snow itself would be trampled and filthy by the end of the day. Any beauty it held was temporary and passing, fragile, easily corrupted. He frowned and shook his head, continuing on his path without stopping.

When he stepped into the lobby of the Inn to the chime of the bell over the door, Lunge was waiting, seated by the fire. L joined him, peeling off his own gloves, stuffing them in the pockets of the coat he had been given, and then taking off the coat itself. The fire warmed the skin of his hands, giving a feeling of real coziness and comfort. The line between snug and stifling could be fine, though.

"You'll never guess who just sat next to me on the bus," he said, without preamble, once he was sitting. "Miles Edgeworth."

Edited 2011-05-09 17:03 (UTC)

Lunge had been waiting long enough that his hands and face had warmed up a little more, and so he felt the sudden roll of cold air as the door opened before he heard the bell or the footsteps that followed it. The first thing L did was take his coat off, which presumably meant they'd be staying inside rather than simply using the Inn as a meeting point, and he could certainly appreciate that sentiment- he followed suit, shedding the extra layer himself as the man made himself comfortable. For a moment Lunge couldn't help but wonder if, were it not for how public the lobby was, he would have preferred to half-crouch on the chair in the way he did on the sun room chairs.

He also found himself wondering if it might not have been a better idea for L to leave the coat on and spare him the eye-strain of that sweater.

It was almost fortunate that straight away he was provided with another distraction. Lunge blinked, a little startled by the revelation, then tilted his head thoughtfully. "Miles Edgeworth, the prosecutor? Wasn't he released a week or so ago? How interesting. Not unheard of, but..."

But rare. Rare enough to be notable. He leaned forward, brow furrowing as he ran over what he remembered of the man: young, lean and professional, with a sharp edge to him he hadn't quite been able to define in a single meeting. It helped considerably that he had been the one to help Javert with the experiment notes; while their content and purpose was questionable at best, the organisation and attention to detail behind them was promising. "We met only the one time, but he seemed a good man to know in this place. Javert vouched for him well enough. What did you make of him?"

So he had a few dollars in his pocket, but was there anything in this town worth spending it on? It was probably just a distraction. Something to occupy them while they were here so that thoughts of real escape stayed far away. Maybe if he was lucky though, he'd be able to find a decent set of pins. But from the last couple times he'd visited, he wasn't going to expect much.

The cold was a pain too. It got cold in the winter in Shibuya just like it would anywhere else, but there was almost never this much snow. It wasn't long before his fingers were getting numb and his nose was a little red, so he pushed his way into the nearest building. He hadn't explored much up the street, so might as well start here and see what he found.

The Black Rock Inn seemed like pretty much what it claimed to be. Though he hadn't ventured to many of the hotels in Shibuya (one of the fastest ways to pick up unwanted company), this wasn't like any of the ones he could think of. The whole thing reminded him of a bad horror movie. Just like a lot of his time in this place, he added mentally. Maybe it would be better to just hit the electronics store for a portable radio or cheap cd player. The incoherent static that kept him from using any of his focus in the daytime was going to be a pounding headache by the end of the day otherwise. He put a hand to his temple, wincing a bit as he turned back toward the exit, nearly knocking into a blonde girl that looked a couple years younger. Was she a patient too? Or just one of the people living in this town?

"Sorry," he remembered a moment later, was the correct response, in favor of stay the hell away from me. "Didn't see you."

[Neku ok for Rose?]

Another boy, also below the target age group for this fine establishment, and thus likely one of her fellow players rather than a glorified NPC, had just attempted to mow her down. Her reflexes were, as always, impeccable, but he was already apologizing.

"I was just leaving." She paused for a moment, before adding, "I thought I might find a computer in here. I am shamefully forced to admit that was an exercise in futility."

Now would be a perfect time to make her escape from the niceties of social chit-chat, if she had anywhere else to go. Or anyone she knew to talk to instead.

"You wouldn't happen to have any ideas on that front, would you?"

[Awesome! If they want to wander over to the electronics store that is fine by me.]

She seemed okay. Well spoken for a what... twelve? thirteen-year-old? Neku wasn't sure he could rattle off something like exercise in futility at that age, let alone use it coherently in a sentence. It was enough to make him pay attention at least, even if he didn't remove the fuzzy black ear warmers.

"Yeah. Um. Yeah, there's an electronics store on the other end of town, but the stuff is seriously antique. Like 90's vintage," he shrugged, but took a few steps toward the door, pushing it open and nodding for her to go through. "I can show you where it is though. I was thinking of checking it out myself since they actually gave us something to spend this time."

The earmuffs didn't hide a handsfree computing device. Pity. She wasn't sure why he'd wear them, except for the minor matter of practicality. Certainly not for style. Unless he was an alien.

"Better that than waiting around here." She shrugged.

"Lead on, my gallant and gracious guide." She bowed courteously as she walked through the door, and then let him catch up, as she didn't, actually, have any idea where the other end of town was.

> ==>

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Day 56: Black Rock Inn (morning)

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