There was no satisfaction to be found in his suspicions being right when it meant the night would present yet more new and different dumbfuckery for the prisoners to deal with. Mello ignored the presence of the pink gruel, and immediately reclaimed the chocolate bar from his possessions. He did a quick inventory to make sure everything was still there, got the hell out of that idiotic orange hoodie and back into the uniform, then perched on his desk, as usual at dinnertime, to tear the candy bar wrapper open and snap off a bite.
The rules had changed, that was certain. Aguilar's apparent mania for results seemed so far to display itself as a willingness to let the prisoners be more dangerous to themselves and others, outright allowing the items that would've been confiscated under Landel. It went with the parts the principals had played: Landel faking that he wanted what was best for the prisoners, the father figure dispensing tough love; Aguilar trying to goad them into giving him what he wanted, the implication being that playing the game was better for everyone, that some nebulous reward worth achieving was available thought merit.
Mello still didn't buy either angle; it was all no more than ways to fuck with them, mentally and physically, as far as he was concerned. He was no closer to seeing the picture of what the Institute was really about come clear, but all the necessary pieces were there. He was sure of it, and damn the bugs trying to tell him otherwise. He snapped off another bite of chocolate, viciously. Whatever the night held in store, he wouldn't let it distract him from his goals.
M31
The rules had changed, that was certain. Aguilar's apparent mania for results seemed so far to display itself as a willingness to let the prisoners be more dangerous to themselves and others, outright allowing the items that would've been confiscated under Landel. It went with the parts the principals had played: Landel faking that he wanted what was best for the prisoners, the father figure dispensing tough love; Aguilar trying to goad them into giving him what he wanted, the implication being that playing the game was better for everyone, that some nebulous reward worth achieving was available thought merit.
Mello still didn't buy either angle; it was all no more than ways to fuck with them, mentally and physically, as far as he was concerned. He was no closer to seeing the picture of what the Institute was really about come clear, but all the necessary pieces were there. He was sure of it, and damn the bugs trying to tell him otherwise. He snapped off another bite of chocolate, viciously. Whatever the night held in store, he wouldn't let it distract him from his goals.