The day was getting off to a weird start. First, there was Landel's voice on the intercom- either he'd changed his mind about the whole partnering with the rebel plan, or Aguilar had a personal parrot ready to mimic the Head Doctor's usual announcements whenever he didn't feel like wasting his breath. Frankly, neither explanation made much sense. Then came the realization he was no longer in the military getup: the grey shirts and smiling faces were back, along with the useless sweatpants. Last, there the nurse at his door, who was clearly the same guard who had kept Guybrush from staying in the antique store too long: same scowl, same lovely disposition, same everything save for the nurse uniform.
Though it was like they'd taken a few surreal steps back in time, they were definitely moving forward: Guybrush found his nose wasn't bandaged for a change, and his ribs didn't feel quite as broken. Also, it was Sunday- visitor day, yuck. Maybe he would get lucky and not be forced into a chat with Stanley the court-appointed attorney about Brian Moriarty's criminal record of stalking and petty theft. Were they trying to lull some of the newer patients into a false sense of security? Or the military thing wasn't working out. Either way, Guybrush would take a hospital over a military operation any day.
Led into the Sun Room by his nurse/soldier, Guybrush skimmed the bulletin board, posting a note himself before taking a look at the rest of the room. There weren't many patients around- he thought a good number might have headed for the Chapel instead, figuring most would opt for the Sun Room. He'd only avoided it so he didn't have to be reminded of the previous week, and of the conversation he'd had with Elaine while there. Sigh, Elaine. So much for not remembering.
Not that the Sun Room wasn't home to a familiar face or two. As he turned to leave, Guybrush nearly ran straight into another icon of the LucasArts name. It was strange how over the course of a week, his perspective on whether or not a man believing himself to be a copyrighted character actually could be said copyrighted character had changed. With people showing up from entirely different times (Elaine from the not-so-distant past, Leela from the way-too-distant future, and all the areas between), patients being brainwashed, and everything from warping doors to evil shadows appearing at night all bets seemed to be off.
Guybrush cleared his throat. "Doctor Jones, I think I owe you an apology."
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Though it was like they'd taken a few surreal steps back in time, they were definitely moving forward: Guybrush found his nose wasn't bandaged for a change, and his ribs didn't feel quite as broken. Also, it was Sunday- visitor day, yuck. Maybe he would get lucky and not be forced into a chat with Stanley the court-appointed attorney about Brian Moriarty's criminal record of stalking and petty theft. Were they trying to lull some of the newer patients into a false sense of security? Or the military thing wasn't working out. Either way, Guybrush would take a hospital over a military operation any day.
Led into the Sun Room by his nurse/soldier, Guybrush skimmed the bulletin board, posting a note himself before taking a look at the rest of the room. There weren't many patients around- he thought a good number might have headed for the Chapel instead, figuring most would opt for the Sun Room. He'd only avoided it so he didn't have to be reminded of the previous week, and of the conversation he'd had with Elaine while there. Sigh, Elaine. So much for not remembering.
Not that the Sun Room wasn't home to a familiar face or two. As he turned to leave, Guybrush nearly ran straight into another icon of the LucasArts name. It was strange how over the course of a week, his perspective on whether or not a man believing himself to be a copyrighted character actually could be said copyrighted character had changed. With people showing up from entirely different times (Elaine from the not-so-distant past, Leela from the way-too-distant future, and all the areas between), patients being brainwashed, and everything from warping doors to evil shadows appearing at night all bets seemed to be off.
Guybrush cleared his throat. "Doctor Jones, I think I owe you an apology."