damned_institute | Day 58: Cafeteria

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Day 58: Cafeteria

Anise woke up feeling lucky to be alive. She still felt a bit waterlogged, even though her skin, hair, and clothes were completely dry. During last night's adventures, she'd swallowed a lot of water, and it still felt heavy and disgusting in her stomach. Her arms and legs were tired from treading water. Lying still in her bed, she still kind of felt like she was floating and bobbing in the water.

But she was alive.

Knowing how close she came to death last night, and remembering the lengths her friends had gone to in order to save her, there was no way Anise could let a little discomfort get her down. She had to be at her best today so she wouldn't seem ungrateful to Guy and Claude. On that note, she had to remember to thank them properly, now that she was better able to express herself.

While getting ready, Anise was surprised to actually run into Claude that morning. He came to her room asking for the notebook he stored there (or maybe it was an excuse to see her cute face again), so Anise happily located it and handed it over. She was pretty tired, but the big smile she gave him was genuine. Who wouldn't be happy to see her savior so soon after a dramatic rescue?

After he left, Anise finished re-tying her pigtails into a low position so the military beret would fit on her head, and then she was ready! Even though her stomach wasn't feeling that great, she figured sitting down to a decent meal would help normalize it. And luckily for her, she was among the few who had the privilege of eating such a meal. Anise filled a plate with french toast topped with syrup and fruit, accompanied by small portions of each of the available side dishes.

It looked like she was early, which meant there weren't a lot of people around. That was okay, though. Anise could get a good head start on her meal before any company came around. She sat down at a table by herself and started on her sausage first.

[for Tolten!]

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Not even the sudden switch in scenery or the sound of an overly enthused voice on the intercom could cause Harvey to startle as he came to. Instead, he was filled with a numbness, the sort of creeping sensation that he remembered most clearly from when he'd been in that hospital bed at Gotham General. It had happened all over again. This time didn't compare at all to the night with Rachel, but he'd once again had to stand by helplessly while --

The worst part was that there was no one to blame, not really. Except for Aguilar. Harvey wanted to gather up all of his rage, all of that darkness brewing in him, and confront Peter, yell at him for what he'd done and shake him. But that wasn't right, because the kid hadn't had a choice and Harvey was going to hazard a guess that he was even more traumatized than the rest of them.

No, it was Aguilar who really should suffer for this, and suddenly Harvey knew that even if he found a way out of this place, back to Gotham, he couldn't go. Not until he'd tracked the general down and put a bullet between his skull, coin toss willing.

It was as if he was back to his first day here, where he didn't even want to talk to anyone, let alone get to know them. He'd slipped too much with Jones, gotten too friendly, and now he'd paid for it just like he had with Rachel. He was really starting to wonder if he was cursed at this point, though the thought was almost too melodramatic even for him.

If he believed in God, he would have said that the guy didn't like him, but as it was, he just had terrible luck.

In any case, he'd learned his lesson. It was getting himself to face the day now that he'd learned it that was proving to be the hard part. Harvey was still laying prone in his bed when the door opened and a soldier marched in. He was soon on the receiving end of a glare.

Harvey wanted to be difficult, wanted to yell in the man's face and throw a tantrum because he deserved to by now. But he knew that would only end in humiliation, and so after murdering the man with his own glare, he got out of bed and finished getting dressed. He was struck once again by how ridiculous he had to look with half his face bandaged and his head covered with the beret.

Not bothering with the bulletin (he didn't need to check on the others), Harvey collected his bowl of food and realized that he'd never wanted to eat it less than he did now. He sat with it in the corner and fought off the urge to strangle someone. Eventually he had to get out his coin and started flipping it around in his hand.

[Free!]

The voices were only getting worse. Or that's how it seemed when Grell woke up that morning. Kurogane was already gone and so he'd taken his time brushing his hair out, waiting for his own intrepid little military lackey to come get him. That was when they started again, like whispers along the corners, voices he recognized. They said words he couldn't quite hear and it sounded like it was coming from the walls. Throwing his hairbrush down, Grell jumped onto the bed and pressed his ear to the wall, banging his fist against it. "Can you hear me?! William! What in the name of God are you doing?!"

"Burnett! Get down!"

After a brief yelling match, Grell had been pulled down from his bed and given a "talking to" about behavior and protocol and blah blah blah. The death god gave no mind to any of that until the voices faded, which they did, as they had last night. "Didn't you hear something?" he asked, ignoring his guard's exasperated eye roll. Of course not, the man said, motioning him toward the hallway. It was time to go to breakfast and he'd best behave himself since he'd been awarded a new rank today.

A new... rank?

This rank business cleared itself up when Grell was given real food rather than the pink mess for the first time since these military buffoons had come into power. What a pleasant day this was shaping up to be - insanity rewarded with a bit of cinnamon toast and syrup. With a final warning to be careful about shouting unnecessarily, Grell was let loose in the cafeteria to find his own seat. It seemed many people were already seated, some engaging in pleasant conversation while others appeared to have the pall of death upon them (if only). Still, only one person stood out to the god and he smiled, switching his tray to one hand as he sauntered over.

Harvey Dent looked like he was barely containing his rage. Maybe he was trying to hide it behind those bandages. Or maybe he was just trying to pick out someone to murder. Oh, Grell hoped for the latter! Sliding into Harvey's field of vision, Grell's smile turned less friendly. "Bad night, Harvey Dent?"

If Harvey had had any say in the matter, he wouldn't have wanted to be bothered at all. In fact, he would have preferred to just stay in that room and brood for a while, even though it would be pointless and accomplish nothing. He figured he was allowed that much after what he'd been put through last night, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually gotten what he wanted.

But as it turned out, he was being bothered by Grell again. He took in the man's shocking red hair and sharp-toothed smile and was overwhelmed by exhaustion. He didn't have it in him to deal with Grell right now, and yet --

There was one good aspect to this. He didn't have to reign himself in around the so-called god of death, did he? Harvey tightened his grip around his coin and slipped it back into his pocket as Grell seated himself, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he tried to gather up the energy to interact with him.

Honestly, a part of him was tempted to correct the man, to tell him it was Two-Face. He didn't know where exactly the urge came from, except that right now he wanted to disassociate from the man called Harvey Dent even more than usual. He glanced down from his bowl of slop over to Grell's french toast with an unreadable look on his face. He didn't even care, he realized, seeing how he could barely get his food down even when it was mush.

"Not in the mood," he said after a pause, running a hand down the good side of his face.

Grell would pay a king's ransom to see a day when Harvey Dent was in the mood. Maybe it was like winning the death lottery and being allowed to live on past one's appointed time. Or maybe it was much rarer than that. Like hearing William praise someone. Whatever the odds, Grell knew they weren't good and so he shrugged, ignoring the man's obvious distaste in his company. Harvey Dent would simply have to deal with it since Grell found him to be a lovely partner for a morning well spent.

"That is one way to answer," he replied, picking up his fork. Regardless of what Harvey said to him today, Grell wasn't going to leave him alone. It was a shame to see pretty (or half-pretty) men be in distress. And Grell was of the persuasion to help them when possible and when his own whimsy lead him that way. Harvey did look like he was in distress, too. Or anger. It was one of the two and either one could lead to something interesting for a death god.

Leaning to one side, Grell crossed one leg over the other and began cutting up his toast with the side of the fork. "So what is it that has you so upset, dear Harvey? Someone take away your toys?"

This guy really couldn't take a hint, could he? Or was it girl? Grell had insisted he was the latter, and yet his voice and body type gave out a completely different message. Harvey was not normally sensitive to that sort of thing on a good day, and this was about as far from good as he could get. So Grell was a he as far as he was concerned.

The way that the redhead was continuing to harp on about this instead of accepting the fact that he was not in the mood made Harvey sincerely tempted to just punch him in the face. Maybe the sedation would actually be welcomed this time, seeing how right now he wished he could just forget about everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.

Instead, though, he lashed out verbally. "If you were at all what you claimed to be the last time we talked, then you'd already know what's got me upset," he spat. He wanted to shove a fork down into something, but all he had was a spoon and some gruel to work with. He ended up gripping the side of his chair instead, but that wasn't a very good outlet for his anger.

His rage was almost palpable and Grell smiled through it all. He loved to see pretty people on the verge of breaking. The paths they took from their righteous old lives to the worlds unknown were always so different. Some simply trudged forward, believing in a future brighter than their present. Some broke down into tears and lamented the world that created their unhappiness. And a few bright stars chose that point to burn so much more brightly than before, reducing everything around them to horror and cinder. Just how would someone like Harvey Dent break? Or had he already broken?

Grell quirked an eyebrow at Harvey's accusation, leaning forward with chin in hand. There was only one thing Harvey's words could mean. Someone had died last night and Grell, of all people, hadn't been aware. Without the List, Grell was at a loss of knowing who would die and when here. It made his job a lot harder, but it also gave every day a bit more excitement.

"So that's it...?" He was more than aware that people could die here. Grell had, after all, murdered one of them to test that theory. But he'd never had to deal with someone grieving before. Death gods were there for the job itself, never the after care. "And? Are you wishing for revenge or simply mourning the loss? Revenge, I can help with. Mourning? Not my field."

The reaction was something that he could have expected, and yet for some reason it still caused a whole new sort of anger to shoot through Harvey, at least briefly. But if Grell was a death god like he'd claimed, then Harvey had to assume that he was so used to the very idea that he couldn't take it seriously. Something that was enough to crush a normal person was probably nothing to someone whose job it was to handle it.

Which really meant that Grell was the wrong person to talk to about this, but it wasn't like Harvey had much choice at this point. He certainly wasn't asking for sympathy or help, so he had no idea where the redhead had gotten that idea. He'd been here, minding his own damn business, and Grell had come over to poke his nose into things.

Still, the last thing he wanted to be accused of was being someone who either couldn't handle death or only reacted to it by mourning. Maybe if Rachel's death had happened differently, he would have been content to mourn her quietly, but everything had changed after that night. He didn't really view death the same way anymore. "Revenge," he replied, his one visible eye narrowed as he stared down at his sad excuse for food. "Aguilar went too far." And he was going to bring him to justice in the only way he knew how to now.

Revenge.

Grell's smile widened as the answer he'd hoped for tumbled from Harvey's mouth. He wasn't asking for help, but then Grell wasn't entirely certain yet if he deemed Harvey worthy of the breach of rules. To help a mortal kill wasn't allowed, after all. Meddling in the affairs of life and death tended to end in nothing but tears and a bloody trail of unnecessary corpses coupled with hours of extraneous paperwork. Still, he had done it once for her and would gladly do it again for her sake. So why not bend the rules here where no one could see for another person's sake?

"Aguilar...?" Even better, the target was someone Grell had his eye on anyway. Admittedly, his aim was different from Harvey's (unless Harvey had a few extra secrets under those bandages), but a shared target made affairs so much easier. He wanted to ask if Aguilar was as handsome as his voice suggested, but went with tact and kept his mouth shut. Aguilar had stolen someone precious from Harvey, enough to turn a man of the law to revenge, and that was the focal point here.

"How tragic....and cruel. Using us as pawns and taking away that which we hold dear." Grell twirled his fork lazily in one hand, turning the tines against the plate as he spoke. "It pains me to see you so upset, Harvey. Tell me, what can I do to help you accomplish your revenge? I've been rather bored and killing someone who rightfully deserves it can be ever so gratifying."

Tragic and cruel. While Harvey tended to shy away from such overblown phrasing, he had to admit that those words easily fit what had happened last night. It annoyed him that he couldn't even be properly angry at Peter, seeing how the kid had clearly been heartbroken by what he'd done. Harvey still couldn't wrap his head around how a scrawny teenager could kick a hole into someone's chest, but it didn't really matter, did it? The point was that Jones was dead and Peter was responsible.

But Grell was putting words in his mouth. Never once had he said that he'd lost someone he "held dear." All he'd said was that someone had died, although his reaction probably implied a whole lot more. Still, that didn't really describe his relationship with Jones. They'd worked together and they'd gotten along, but that was about it. It was more the principle of the matter, the fact that he'd been put into an experience like that again. No, he'd walked right into it.

And Aguilar had watched from afar. He hadn't acted like he'd been enjoying it, but Harvey knew he must have been. Just like the Joker had enjoyed taunting him in that hospital room.

The offer for help in his revenge gave Harvey pause for a moment, mainly because he hadn't been granted anything like it since Jason had been here. He stared across the table at Grell as if he could somehow judge his sincerity if he looked for long enough. He was decent at it, considering his profession. "Unless you can get me a clear shot at Aguilar, I don't think you can help," he replied. While Grell's openness was intriguing, Harvey knew that actually getting his hands on Aguilar was probably impossible. Or it wouldn't be happening for a while yet, at least.

Harvey was silent and Grell kept turning the fork silently, slowly against the plate. Sooner or later he would break and Grell would find another tenuous source of entertainment. Everything here was, after all, for his entertainment in some manner or another. Last night someone had died and this morning people had this sense of utter doom about them. There was a shadow hanging over the Institute, almost tangibly so, and Grell felt a bit put out that he wasn't allowed in on the reasons for the mortal misery. Curiosity was one of his worst traits, but Grell rather enjoyed it.

"And if I could?" He really couldn't; not yet at least, but he would be willing to try to see Harvey take a few more steps into the darkness. A shining star was so much more brilliant as it fell from the Heavens and Grell had a feeling that when Harvey fell, it would burn everything in its wake. Or perhaps he already had and this was simply a reenactment of that horror. The fork stopped and the death god smiled. "If nothing else, Harvey, I do want to help you. I've taken quite a liking to you-" and to his dour attitude "- so whatsoever is within my power...I extend my hand to you."

He'd done this once before. He'd helped a woman take revenge on the dirty whores of Whitechapel. Women who did not deserve the gift they'd been given flaunted it in the face of those who had what was rightfully theirs stolen away. They had deserved their deaths at her hands. Grell had never seen anyone so beautiful as she had been when covered in blood and drowned in rage and sorrow.

"If you want it. I can be a wonderful ally." He stabbed a piece of toast and raised it up, considering it for a moment as the smile on his face widened and darkened. "Or a most fearsome enemy."

To Harvey, this all felt like it was coming out of nowhere. He and Grell had met, what -- three times? And Grell was now going on about how he'd taken a liking and wanted to help him. Harvey had spent more time with Indiana Jones than anyone else in this place and he'd only just now been acknowledging that they were maybe something like friends. And he still didn't know if he only felt that way because the guy had gone and died on him.

Still, it wasn't like he should brush this off for that reason. Maybe Grell was telling the truth. There really wasn't much reason for him to lie, was there? And it would help to have someone he could work with who wouldn't shy away from death and morals that weren't quite so spit-shined. He hadn't had that since Jason, and he had to admit that it was tiring, having to act like he cared at least a little bit all the time.

"Doesn't seem like you have much in the way of power, but I'm not going to refuse help," he said after a lengthy pause, partly because it was entertaining to leave Grell hanging for a bit. He didn't know if that last part of Grell's offer had been some sort of threat, but he decided not to take it that way.

"But all right, deal. Not sure when I'll need you, but I'll keep it in mind, at least." He wasn't going to say that it went both ways since Harvey honestly didn't know if he'd want to lend a hand to whatever Grell got up to at night, but he figured he could play this whole thing by ear.

What a backhanded acceptance! The casual beating Grell took in that single line was enough to set the god's cheeks burning. Oh, how he loved it when people were so cruel! Harvey Dent was so lovely, no punches pulled, no honey given, just straightforward honesty in a most brutal fashion. Grell sighed, unable to hide the satisfied smile on his face. It had been so long since he'd experienced such a verbal one-two. Not since Sylar. Not since--

You're going to rot here. Human. Grow old, die, and decompose. We're not coming for--

Grell waved a hand at the air around him, trying to chase off that familiar voice. Not now! Why did he have to hear his voice when he was having such a good time?! It wasn't until the voices stopped that he realized how odd it must look to Harvey, seeing Grell shoo away demons that didn't exist to him. Humans could barely see what was right in front of their faces sometimes. Gods couldn't expect them to see supernatural things as well. To cover up his actions, he quickly stabbed his toast and took a bite, swallowing it down in a huff.

"Yes, well, you've simply never seen me shine at night. These dreadfully dull days take all the power out of my performances." Reaching forward with one hand, palm down, Grell smiled. "It's a deal, however, Harvey Dent. Should you ever find anyone else you simply can't stand, do let me know. It's in my business to rid the world of people after all."

The reaction that Grell gave was almost enough to make Harvey reconsider his agreement to this so-called partnership. The redhead went from looking like he'd just gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas to batting angrily at the air to stabbing at his food. What was with this guy?

But here was someone who knew a thing or two about death -- or didn't seem to mind discussing it openly, at least -- and that was surprisingly hard to find here. It hadn't been hard back in Gotham, but it was like everyone was packed with morals in this place. It occurred to Harvey that he'd once been that way, but he chose not to dwell on that too long.

"All right," he said, taking the man's hand and giving it a brief shake before pulling away again. "We should figure out a way to signal each other on the bulletin without being obvious about it." Peter and Scott and the others would probably notice if he was discussing less than savory plans with someone, after all.

"And what have you been doing at night?" he went on to ask. Harvey had been making good use of his time -- or so he'd thought until the coliseum -- so he wanted to know how Grell had been utilizing the freedom they were offered when the doors unlocked.

A handshake wasn't exactly what Grell had been hoping for, but he'd take what he could get. With a shrug, he pulled away, continuing on with his meal as Harvey mulled over this and that and went on to be the smart professional and ask for aliases. The Dreamer hadn't been around for awhile nor had Legs or even Aura. It made Grell more than a bit nervous to think that all those he had come to rely upon (some for more squeaky clean reasons) were slowly disappearing. People disappeared or died here all the time and yet when Grell's own allies started doing it... Well, he would say he cared, but it was more of a selfish sort of caring. Without humans around to act as his meat shields someone might actually get close enough to scratch him and that could simply not be allowed. That and it was always the pretty ones who disappeared. What a shame.

"Do you have any nicknames you prefer?" Grell asked, inspecting a piece of toast on the end of his fork. "Or shall I simply create a name you?"

Because there were sooo many names he could give him; none of which would likely go over well with him. Except for one, but Grell doubted Harvey would find that one very amusing despite it being appropriate. After finishing off one of the pieces of toast, Grell took a sip of water and sighed, pushing the remaining slice around on the plate.

"As for the night? Enjoying myself of course. What else is there to do?" Other than explore and go places he had little interest in. "Unlike the others here, I have no pressing need to return so I simply..." Grell smiled and pressed the tines of his fork slowly into the bread, watching as syrup blossomed up as blood would from skin. "...Enjoy my time. If that means exploring, I go. If it means teaching someone naughty a lesson?"

Grell stabbed the toast harder.

"I've every means to do that." He set the fork down and leaned forward, threading his fingers together and resting his chin on the bridge created. "Now I would ask you that, but seeing as you've just lost someone it would seem we can all see what sort of dangerous things you do."

When asked for a nickname, Harvey was once again tempted to just say "Two-Face," but he realized how stupid that would be. It was too easy to identify him by that name and the whole point of this was to stay under the radar. "So long as it's something plain that isn't going to stand out, I don't care what name you use. What do you want me to call you?"

He was probably going to get a ridiculous answer to that question, but it was a necessary evil at this point.

In the end, Grell's answer about what he did with his nights was pretty vague, but it seemed to boil down to "whatever I feel like." Sometimes that was exploring and sometimes that was teaching someone a lesson, which could really mean any number of things. Still, what stood out most was the fact that Grell didn't seem that interested in getting home. Considering what he'd said before about waiting for his boss to come find him, that seemed contradictory.

But then Grell had to mention Jones again, even if it was just a reference. He didn't even know who it was, couldn't have any way of knowing, and yet Harvey had to fight not to flinch. "Yeah, it hasn't been all fun and games on my end," he said darkly.

"But why aren't you gnawing at the bit to get back? I thought you were waiting for your boss to come get you." It was a question that was going to bug him unless he asked and he saw no reason not to.

"How boring," he sighed, going back to poking at his food and nibbling at what little there was of it left. Although, giving Harvey his own little nickname would be rewarding. Just what to call him though? Oh, there were just so many names to choose from...! Grell smiled and wondered if he should just reuse some of his old aliases or if he should stick to new ones. One name in particular seemed appropriate to use here, but it could attract attention. Well, it wasn't like Grell wasn't used to doing that. "Angel," he said, winking at Harvey. "Since I'll be your angel of death from now on to help make your days full of fun and games from here on."

No more frowns for Harvey. No, Grell would be making sure the pretty American attorney-turned-vigilante would get his revenge in the bloodiest way possible. What would Harvey look like, Grell wondered, with Aguilar's blood splashing over his skin? Soaking into those bandages? Or whatever was hidden behind them?

You're not wanting to come back because you know there's no place for you to go back to. You're going to end your days as a mortal, Grell Sutcliffe. No one is coming for you.

The sudden reappearance of William's cold voice caused Grell to hiss at the air beside him. "You be quiet," he snapped, knowing how crazy it looked but not much caring. When it seemed no more disparaging comments were coming from the unseen gallery, he turned back to Harvey. "And as for that?" One last bite of toast, let Harvey stew in silence as he paused for effect and to allow himself to swallow. "Because I'm rather enjoying myself right now. And a damsel in distress should wait for her knight to save her, don't you think? William would be so disappointed if I went back before he had a chance to make his grand entrance."

That seemed just a little bit ironic. There was nothing angelic about Grell, but his explanation about the angel of death was easy enough to accept. Either way, it worked well as an alias since no one was going to look at the redhead and think angel. "All right, I'll keep an eye out for notes signed with that name." There was the slight chance that there was someone else around here who was actually called that, but Harvey figured that he would be able to tell if a note was meant for him.

Grell was still doing a fantastic job of acting totally nuts, and Harvey had to wonder if it was all an act, something meant to unnerve whoever he was talking to, or if it was the real deal. He knew that beggars couldn't be choosers, though, and anyone who was comfortable with death was bound to be a little unhinged. So he ignored it.

It was hard to believe that anyone could actually enjoy their time here, but with someone like Grell... Maybe it was possible. He clearly wasn't your average person, especially if he was telling the truth and had lived a life that consisted of reaping souls.

Whatever, he'd let the guy believe that he was going to be heroically rescued if he wanted to. It was no skin off his back, anyway. "Fair enough," he said with a shrug, more or less in unison with the sound of the intercom coming on. Well, wasn't that well-timed for once?

As Harvey stood from his seat, he offered Grell a tired glance and a weary smile. "Pleasure doing business with you." It was clear that his tone was only half-serious, though, since he couldn't yet make any judgments on how it would be to work with Grell. For all he knew, this could be a terrible mistake.

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Day 58: Cafeteria

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