damned_institute | Night 56: Main Hallway, 1-West

[From here.]

He had reached the meeting point in less than a few minutes and there was still not another patient to be seen. Castiel paused, standing near the wall as he moved his flashlight up and down the corridor. There was nothing, not the sound of a shadow slipping through the dark; not the whisper of something less than human.

The only sound was the static that periodically came from his radio. He couldn't seem to get it to let up, and he wondered if it was reacting to him or if he'd been given a faulty one.

He would have preferred the former option, but he had been knocked down too many notches when it came to the loss of his abilities, his divinity, the very things that made him him.

Castiel let out a breath that had been caught in his chest and then lowered his flashlight. He wondered how long this whole process would take, but he supposed that all depended on how well he did as a student. He fashioned himself a fast learner, but he had never been able to grasp things like popular culture.

He imagined he would do a bit better with lockpicking, though. Leaning himself against the wall, Castiel stood there quietly, waiting for Orihara to show himself.

[For Izaya.]

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Though her exterior was cool, calm, collected, she'd been standing there, ready and waiting to snipe in with some biting comment when the right moment struck. Despite what she'd said, as her anger started to rise, she was quickly losing the desire and the patience to hear him out. There would be excuses, things hardly worth wasting her time hearing, things that wouldn't help her at all....

But hearing that unsaid implication, that weight in his apology, was like a punch to the gut, and it caused her to pause, her mouth opening and then closing again. Somehow, she could feel the sincerity lurking behind those words, and it was oddly similar to being caught under his honest gaze, the one that seemed to see straight through her when nothing else did. Like back then, it almost compelled her to listen. Maybe to believe him.

.... And she had no idea what to do with it.

For the second time in recent memory, she had been rendered speechless.

"Gren's right," Leela said. "You stand around here too long, you're likely to get sucked into a scary house, or a parallel universe, or something."

She was perfectly aware this was the sort of thing that made people look at her like she'd sprouted an extra eye (another extra eye), but Faye, assuming that was the name she preferred, would see that much was true after a couple of days here, if not less.

"I was dragging Gren along to look for some files," she went on, pretty sure he wouldn't have any desire to add to the awkwardness by explaining that he needed them, or why. "We could use an extra pair of eyes. Plus, you get to see more of scenic Landel's if you come along. ...all right, that was lame, I know." But exploring was never really useless here, Leela felt. If nothing else, poor Faye (she really did feel for her) would have something to comment on if anything typically ridiculous happened to them.

Leela's assessment of the situation might have been slightly outlandish (though it was hard to forget the problem with the doors that had occurred his first night there) but the sentiment was right--if they stood around too long, they were targets.

Of course, if they continued on their search, they were still targets, but at least they'd be moving targets rather than stationary ones. He cast Leela a grateful look for that little doctoring of the truth as it pertained to their records search--what had happened to him was a little too much to be dumping on Faye all at once, especially given how uniquely suited she was to understanding its full implications. For now, he just wanted to make sure she was safe--not that Faye was the sort of woman who needed--or particularly wanted--protecting, but this wasn't home.

"I can answer any questions you have while we search," he offered. He owed her that much, anyway.

Faye might not have been in this for too long, but she had the general idea just from the atmosphere. It wouldn't be safe if they stood here for too long, from whatever was hiding around here, and she knew it. Moving on was the only option.

She had about a million questions, and that list was expanding exponentially by the second. What was this place? Why were they really here? What were they planning to do? How was Gren still alive? But those questions would have to wait.

"Fine," she said finally with a quiet sigh, conceding just that one little bit. If she couldn't leave just yet, finding out more about the place in which she was stuck wouldn't hurt. And maybe it would be all right, at least this once, to team up with someone she already knew. He had an advantage over her in that he knew the lay of the land.

As much as she was reluctant, as much as she wanted to prove that she was right all along, that she didn't need comrades and was perfectly capable of operating alone, maybe he was the one who was right, at least on some level. Maybe she needed a comrade. ... Just this once.

"My friend said the file room's up on the same hall where they keep our stuff that isn't really our stuff." This didn't make as much sense as Leela was accustomed to making, but in the overall nonsense of Landel's, struck her as actually quite sane, so she let it stand without elaborating, and just smiled back at Gren.

Faye was definitely coming across as the strong, silent type, which Leela could appreciate. She herself was the closest the Planet Express crew had to an example of that type. She headed for the stairs to the second floor.

[to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1111315.html?thread=78236691#t78236691)]

Night 56: Main Hallway, 1-West

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... wow, guys, sorry for my fail ;_;

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