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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"Hah, I know, right? Thought if it were my government I think you'd know it..." there'd be an American flag plastered somewhere, though it seemed to him that the intercoms and the military orderlies seemed to come from all over... so did his own. Slightly frustrating, to be honest, usually he was really on top of these sort of things. Another few seconds followed and he realized his table-mate was lost in thought. "Actually I dunno if they're mine..." he stabbed some breakfast with a little more force than was necessary, growling internally when it didn't do as much damage as it would have normally.

Here he was so frustratingly normal. Like they had some sort of control over him and he couldn't figure out how they were doing it. Actually it was just like that.

"So... you still haven't told me your name, yet." Everyone was entitled to their desire for privacy and all that but sometimes it was just a common courtesy to exchange names. Might come in handy in the future, especially if they were all of the mind to be getting out of here. Not to mention, if they weren't united then they'd all be just wasting their time. More 'n likely. "And I don't mean the one they slapped on the chart for you..."

No, he wouldn't, because Kratos had no idea of other governments outside of his world's, and this man certainly did not hail from either Tethe'alla or Sylvarant--neither did this institute, for that matter.

"Kratos," he said curtly, eyes flicking up briefly. And then, because he might as well steer the conversation in a direction that was at least useful: "Why would you think this place has anything to do with your government? --I assume you're from this world in the first place."

He had always been curious about what sort of world "Earth" was and the forces that lurked behind Landel and now behind Aguilar. One of the most important rules for survival was to understand one's surroundings, and unfortunately, Kratos was still very much in the dark about those, even after lasting here for a month.

"I dunno, they have a feeling about them. Kind of familiar. But I think they might be private contract." He paused for a second, thinking as he aimed another piece of breakfast at his mouth. "...At least, I think it's my world." Truth be told he hadn't even considered that he was taken away from his world but it might... be an alternative version of his. He'd been kidding earlier with England but now the likelihood seemed much more... realistic. After what that doc had showed him the other night he wasn't eager to take anything for granted.

"Also, it's nice to meet you, Kratos," one thing at a time, here. Breakfast, mingling, then sorting out this Landels institute. Priorities were sorted, now all he needed to do was implement. "So since you're talking about me being from here, where are you from?" Looking him over he could be an alien. A really exotic and cool looking alien at that. Humanoid, carbon-based from the look of it.

If he were a bonafide alien he might just have to introduce this guy to Tony. Being interstellar travelers was rare enough-- maybe the universe wasn't so big after all. That is, when they got out of here, of course.

...that was a most reassuring answer. For one fleeting moment, Kratos had believed that he might actually be learning something useful about this place or this world - he had no preference given his lack of information about both - but no, all he had gotten from Alfred were feelings and assumptions, neither of which were concrete or definite. Of course, it had to just so happen that concrete, definite things were the only things he was interested in.

"Not here, as you might have already surmised." Vague statements that just barely (but somehow fully) answered questions were Kratos' specialty, particularly when he didn't feel like being helpful or open.

"Yeah, that's a little more than obvious," he kicked his legs under the table but was careful not to connect with Kratos. "One of the docs told me I was here before," but he hadn't said it in so many words. He'd said other and other implied another person but that wasn't possible. There were no other hims unless they were mistaking him for his brother. Now that was more likely but this place... he didn't trust anything right now.

"Have no memory of it. Trying to check around and see if anyone else might be able to fill in the blanks." but he was getting the distinct impression this guy had no need or reason to speak with him. And unfortunately he had nothing to earn that kind of a bond, either. Not until nightfall, perhaps. But even then he couldn't be guaranteed to be free for the evening. "So you always eat alone in the morning?"

Best to move onto other subject and just blabber on. Better than thinking or remembering what had happened before and maybe even if the odds were stacked against him, he'd make a new friend or at least an acquaintance.

"I see." Kratos' head tilted to the side. "Those are unfortunate circumstances." Returning and yet not remembering: he had never met anyone who claimed to have done that before, but given the way this place operated (which was unpredictable), he supposed he couldn't be too surprised. Even so, it was surely disconcerting to wake up in an unknown environment and suddenly be surrounded by people demanding where you had gone despite your knowledge to the contrary.

He shook his head. "Unfortunately, I've never heard of another 'Alfred' around here, and I've been in this place for far longer than most. It may just be my own ignorance speaking, though." After all, he had never gone out of his way to get to know people around the institute.

As for their new subject...Kratos' initial response was a pointed, flat stare that maintained itself admirably. "Mostly, I endeavor to, but find myself largely thwarted. Do you always ask random strangers that you approach these sorts of questions?"

"Is there a handbook somewhere says that it's weird to ask these sort of questions of random acquaintances? I know your name, you ain't a stranger," he smiled a little as he stuck his fork into his food and looked at Kratos-- okay, smiled a lot, because asking those kind of questions always got the most interesting answers and he wasn't of the sort to let the discomfort of not knowing someone get in the way of his doing precisely that. Even if it might be a code name or something (Kratos sounded Greek) he still had a label to put on him.

The lack of knowledge about another Alfred didn't daunt him, now he knew an Alfred and that was a change for the better in his estimation. "I suppose there's something to be said for trying to eat alone but I figure you'd want people to look out for you. Just in case the docs decide they want to drag you off for nefarious things... not that we can really stop 'em even if we wanted to..." that seemed to dampen his spirits for a second but he shrugged it off, giving Kratos a rueful smile. "So I take it since you've survived this place a while you've been playing into their game? Either that or you're real good at surviving-- or both, come to think of it."

"Merely exchanging names and speaking for a while does not make one familiar with the other." The flat stare continued. Kratos was thankfully a patient man, or else he might have left the table by now, given his intense dislike for random, meaningless questions that only served to help people "get to know each other". That was fine, so long as there was an end to such purposes. If not, what was the point?

"And such things typically do not occur during breakfast," Kratos said slowly, and now there was a questioning note in his voice. The experiments that went on in the night were usually rarely spoken of during the day unless someone felt like venting or were dumping information upon an unsuspecting newcomer. "Come nightfall, having others to 'look out for you' would be appropriate, but as for now, one might call that overkill."

He bristled slightly at the suggestion that he could simply be playing along with the Institute; while that was true in some respects, Kratos would not count himself as one who had merely given up on any thought of escape or resistance. "The latter would be more appropriate," he replied coldly.

"Ah-huh," Was this guy for real? Part of him, a cynical bit, wanted to ask if he preferred to bond over showers or arts and crafts because breakfast at least was time to sit down and talk instead of be preoccupied with some other activity. But to each their own, no point in making enemies or pushing people away with a flippant answer. Though it was becoming fairly obvious that even his attempts to make himself at least pleasant was doing that very thing.

Not that it was going to stop him from doing it, but it was an observation. Some folks were loners, nothing he could do to change that.

"Can't blame me for trying to make friends at least," glancing down into his cup he rolled it between his palms. "So what do you think's the proper way for getting to know someone since I'm probably already at three strikes." it was unspoken but Alfred was going to try to at least to keep Kratos from getting killed or mauled, mangled, tortured, spliced, lasered, what have you. Being a hero was a thankless job because even loners needed them sometimes.

"Mm." If Kratos had even the slightest intent of Alfred's intent for him, he might have actually laughed. Killed, mauled, mangled, tortured...all of those had happened, some with an almost certain degree of regularity. It was impossible to protect everyone; better to direct your energies toward those who had no hope of defending themselves, those that were not him. After all, he himself was a knight, and what good was a knight if he had to be protected? It defied his very existence; he would have none of it.

"I wouldn't know." Kratos stared off at some spot over Alfred's shoulder as he laced his fingers together in front of him. "I don't think about that sort of thing often." He looked back at the blond, frowning lightly. "What do you mean by 'three strikes'?"

Somewhere, someone had to be laughing at this cosmic irony, that he be so entirely ignorant of the sport that his "real self" followed so vigilantly.

There was merit in being heroic, but there was also practicality in protecting people who would also benefit you should the need arise. He might have been more inclined to save any and all people before but now things were a bit more dire. And he had to think about his own more than about... "You know, three strikes..." being met with that same deadpan look as before (did this guy's expressions change?) prompted him to elaborate, one brow lowered and grinning a little ruefully, "...home runs, fouls, bases... and I'm not talking about any euphemisms-- baseball."

If he'd hoped to get anywhere it seemed he'd really picked the wrong guy. Normally the quiet folks had a lot more to say once someone showed some interest in them but it looked like he hadn't made the right decision or he'd misread him completely. Even he was at a loss-- couldn't chit-chat, guy didn't know sports... "It's a sport where you've got a batter, a pitcher and an umpire and the pitcher throws the ball and you gotta hit it and run like hell to the bases in an order to gain a point. Good for team work..."

"I...see." He still didn't look like he fully understood, but that couldn't be helped; baseball was probably something that needed to be experienced and seen in order to be truly appreciated, and the likelihood of Kratos ever witnessing a game was faint indeed. As things stood, though, he was sure that he could survive without knowing baseball inside and out.

Alfred still hadn't told him what three strikes had to do with this bizarre game that was good for teamwork, though. "I've never heard of it before." Frankly, it didn't sound too complex: hitting a ball with a bat was a simple concept, and so was running like hell. "You will need to elaborate; I'm afraid I still don't see how 'three strikes' connects to any of this."

"Three strikes means you're out." a thumb jerk gesture followed and he leaned forward on his elbows. "Part of the rules of the game. I'd show you some time if you're ever interested." Remembering the game prompted him to grin, something familiar and his own. "But basically you've got three chance to hit the ball-- if you strike out three times your team takes a hit. Once you have three outs your team is sent to the field instead of batting. Basically you're either trying to stop the other team from scoring or trying to score in turns. It really is much easier to show than explain." Did they have a baseball group here? If so, he was going to join up.

Might also be handy to know where all the bats were kept. Just in case he needed to brain something.

"...So three strikes... I'm out. It's just a saying, but since I keep striking out, my chances for becoming more than just some annoying guy you tolerated at breakfast steadily declines." best to be direct about it at least. "But better to make an impression than none at all, right?"

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Day 58: Cafeteria

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