The shift from night to day was as welcome a transition as always, but getting up wasn't. Lelouch felt weighted down, sluggish, and if the entire day was going to be like this, what the hell was his incentive for getting up?
"... Loiterers may find themselves without food for the day..."
All right, that would do it.
Gingerly, he peeled back the covers and pushed himself upward, unsurprised to find himself fully clothed again. The clothes themselves earned a raised eyebrow, but continuing his self-assessment ranked much higher in his priorities. He still felt slow, weakened, but the sleep, unnatural though it may have been, seemed to have done him some good. Food would help even more, assuming he could reach the cafeteria without incident.
His nurse-- no, the soldier who came to fetch him was quick to instruct him to put on his boots and beret when he arrived, and Lelouch obeyed without comment, picking up his journal and a pen while he was at it. These were the changes brought on by the new regime, hm? He could live with that, at least while he was here. Being on the receiving end of of their orders would take more getting used to, but he would see to it that it didn't last for long.
As he'd hoped, the journey to the cafeteria proceeded without incident, even if he was a little unsteady on his feet. He still wasn't sure entirely how much blood he'd lost, but what mattered now was replenishing it. He did somewhat distantly recall that he had a meeting lined up for this morning, but... he'd have a seat first, try to force down some of the gruel, and gather his thoughts. There was no evidence at all to suggest that this potential member for G.A.M.B.I.T. would be worth his time or effort, but he could at least try to make a good impression regardless.
no subject
"... Loiterers may find themselves without food for the day..."
All right, that would do it.
Gingerly, he peeled back the covers and pushed himself upward, unsurprised to find himself fully clothed again. The clothes themselves earned a raised eyebrow, but continuing his self-assessment ranked much higher in his priorities. He still felt slow, weakened, but the sleep, unnatural though it may have been, seemed to have done him some good. Food would help even more, assuming he could reach the cafeteria without incident.
His nurse-- no, the soldier who came to fetch him was quick to instruct him to put on his boots and beret when he arrived, and Lelouch obeyed without comment, picking up his journal and a pen while he was at it. These were the changes brought on by the new regime, hm? He could live with that, at least while he was here. Being on the receiving end of of their orders would take more getting used to, but he would see to it that it didn't last for long.
As he'd hoped, the journey to the cafeteria proceeded without incident, even if he was a little unsteady on his feet. He still wasn't sure entirely how much blood he'd lost, but what mattered now was replenishing it. He did somewhat distantly recall that he had a meeting lined up for this morning, but... he'd have a seat first, try to force down some of the gruel, and gather his thoughts. There was no evidence at all to suggest that this potential member for G.A.M.B.I.T. would be worth his time or effort, but he could at least try to make a good impression regardless.
[For Phoenix Wright.]