Day 56: Callahan's Grocer (Noon)

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

 
Matt was leading the way to the grocery store; it was easy to tell what was what here, thankfully. A really simple town, so far as he could tell, and the best bet he had here from the looks of it was the grocery store.

If they didn't have his smokes, he was screwed.

Mello could follow as long as he wanted. It wasn't like Matt was going to just fall over without a moment's notice; no, he'd been zombified, but not much else seemed out of the ordinary today. No voices were constantly rambling in his head, no little angels or devils making a cozy little workspace out of his shoulders. He wasn't seeing things that weren't there, and he wasn't in dire need of swallowing a couple fresh brains.

He didn't feel like a total zombie, at least. He still had his good old nicotine craving, after all.

Which was refusing to take a backseat any longer. It had been at least a good twenty-four hours since his last cigarette, and Matt felt like he was going insane. His right hand wouldn't quit twitching, and his irritability was meeting its all-time max; he wasn't sure how much longer he could go around letting Mello hover over him without ripping someone's head off.

So inside the grocer's he went, glancing behind him at the blond he figured was planning to follow him around all day. "Coming?"

 

[for his co-conspirators Mello and Javert!]

Comments

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

First thing was first. The pack Matt had just purchased was opened and a cigarette slid out between two fingers and lit before either of the other men could say anything - and before he even made it all the way out the door. Holding the filter between his lips, the brunet watched his two companions closely, already tired of their presence. He didn't need this right now, but he knew they did; it was like a kind of closure for themselves, but there'd be none for Matt. He already knew it wouldn't work like that.

As he took the first drag of acrid smoke and let it sit in his lungs for a few moments before exhaling it through his nostrils, Matt closed his eyes - and suddenly he was back in that room, strapped down to that operating table. He couldn't feel the cold but he could sense it, and it was almost as though he could smell the sterilization once again.

When his lungs were clear, he opened his eyes.

Better get this over with.

Taking another drag, he held it a few more moments before letting his gaze fall on Javert, asking as he exhaled, "You have something to jot it all down with?"

Well. Maybe it would be simpler than Matt had initially thought.

Simple, but not easy.

[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

Mello had wondered before if there were something at work to keep the prisoners from making progress at night, something more subtle than outright diverting them from their intended destinations, as the Institute had done, and could presumably do again. Possibly, that was a tactic saved as a last resort. It had to require a non-trivial outlay of effort or energy. It seemed to Mello that getting anywhere at night had been difficult from the start of Aguilar's regime, unlike the first few nights he'd spent here, when he had accomplished enough to fully believe he'd escape.

The asshole in charge wasn't all that had changed since then. Now he was positive the game was rigged, that Aguilar got his kicks mocking their efforts even as he made sure those very efforts would fail. Defeatist or realistic? Mello couldn't have said anymore; they boiled down to the same thing, and he didn't care to examine the semantics too closely. He would ask Javert if he'd experienced the same recent crackdown, but later. Now all he said was, "If they're trying to make us snap out of frustration, they're damn close to succeeding with me."

Then he fell silent, waiting for Matt to go on, not without a look at him that said he'd expected both the instant lighting up and that Matt would talk now.