[Sorry this is so completely, ridiculously, inexcusably late! D:]
With his stomach rumbling all the way down the hall, Guybrush finally arrived at his room, tray in hand and ready for a good night's rest (or what the institute considered one, as it was anything be restful any given night). He'd been escorted back to the bus shortly after his chat with Morgan- something about how his lengthy stay in the antique shop, coupled with the fact that he was attempting to see how various objects fit into his pockets, sent off red flags with those whose entire job it was to watch the patients with "kleptomania" scrawled on their files and keep them from succumbing to their disorder. Unfortunately, that meant he'd skipped a meal, and all he was getting at the institute was the pink stuff. His stomach grumbled again as he opened the door- he knew he should've eaten before going to the antique store.
In good news, he was eager to satisfy his hunger for exploration that night. Just himself and Morgan, taking on the Institute and maybe the town with files in one hand and swords in the other. He was feeling marginally better, despite his lack of food: his nose was still a little swollen, but at least the bandage was gone; however, his ribs still rattled when he walked. He sighed as the door closed behind him- maybe after a while of sitting and talking with Scott, he'd be ready to go. He probably should have followed the 'experienced' inspector's assessment and stayed in the previous night.
Oh yeah, Scott. Guybrush gave him a nod on the way in, setting his tray on his desk, figuring he could stand to starve a little longer. Even though apologies had been exchanged, it was still a little awkward chatting with the guy who'd knocked the stew out of him. Guybrush felt badly for not being able to do anything about Scott's kidnapping, and Scott felt badly for the whole mess in the first place, even if it hadn't been his fault in any sense.
Guybrush tried to perk up, putting on one of his more winning smiles as he took a seat and turned it to face his roommate. "Hey there, Mister Pilgrim. How'd the day treat you? Great? Great."
no subject
With his stomach rumbling all the way down the hall, Guybrush finally arrived at his room, tray in hand and ready for a good night's rest (or what the institute considered one, as it was anything be restful any given night). He'd been escorted back to the bus shortly after his chat with Morgan- something about how his lengthy stay in the antique shop, coupled with the fact that he was attempting to see how various objects fit into his pockets, sent off red flags with those whose entire job it was to watch the patients with "kleptomania" scrawled on their files and keep them from succumbing to their disorder. Unfortunately, that meant he'd skipped a meal, and all he was getting at the institute was the pink stuff. His stomach grumbled again as he opened the door- he knew he should've eaten before going to the antique store.
In good news, he was eager to satisfy his hunger for exploration that night. Just himself and Morgan, taking on the Institute and maybe the town with files in one hand and swords in the other. He was feeling marginally better, despite his lack of food: his nose was still a little swollen, but at least the bandage was gone; however, his ribs still rattled when he walked. He sighed as the door closed behind him- maybe after a while of sitting and talking with Scott, he'd be ready to go. He probably should have followed the 'experienced' inspector's assessment and stayed in the previous night.
Oh yeah, Scott. Guybrush gave him a nod on the way in, setting his tray on his desk, figuring he could stand to starve a little longer. Even though apologies had been exchanged, it was still a little awkward chatting with the guy who'd knocked the stew out of him. Guybrush felt badly for not being able to do anything about Scott's kidnapping, and Scott felt badly for the whole mess in the first place, even if it hadn't been his fault in any sense.
Guybrush tried to perk up, putting on one of his more winning smiles as he took a seat and turned it to face his roommate. "Hey there, Mister Pilgrim. How'd the day treat you? Great? Great."