damned_institute | Day 58: Lunch

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Day 58: Lunch

Although it had been good to see his mom again, Claude entered the cafeteria with a dark expression on his face. He was glad she felt comfortable enough with him to share her experiences from last night, but that didn't make him any less angry at the military for using her to do their dirty work. Why couldn't those bastards clean up their own messes? Surely they had the resources for it.

Were they really going to have to fight someone else's war now?

His head buzzed with those sorts of questions as he moved through the room. Even so, with the help of his escort, Claude assembled a tray with a rather large hamburger, the appropriate condiments, and a cup of water. The cafeteria was still relatively empty, save for the soldiers on duty, so he took very little time in the line. It was probably just as well. He'd been so engrossed in his conversation with Rita during breakfast that he hadn't eaten much.

After finding an empty seat, Claude gingerly placed his tray and journal onto the table and sat down. As he lifted up his burger with his good hand, Claude couldn't help but think of Ashton for a moment. Where was he? He'd disappeared so long ago, and yet part of him worried the military had used him for something too.

Eyebrows furrowed, he took a bite and tried to focus on getting a decent meal in his stomach.

[For Guy!]

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Gant ground his teeth together and forced a grin. He didn't bother to hide the anger that still burned in his narrowed eyes. "Cute, Lana. Cute."

He might have usually thought a bit of sass was charming when coming from the woman who had made her heart into a lump of stone for several years. However, today was not a usual day. Today was a day of retribution and that demanded seriousness.

Her voice seemed genuinely concerned when she asked after him, however. For that, he could hold his ire. If just while speaking with her, maybe. She was Lana, after all.

"Oh, just got some bad news," he grumbled, stirring his bowl of gruel without any intention of eating it. "Apparently someone thought it would be funny to sick a little dog after me. Trouble is, the dog has fangs and is pretty tenacious about keeping after its targets."

It wasn't meant to be cute; cute was the cover story. She was learning, quickly. Humor made a more resilient defense when heartlessness had been demolished, and it covered worry just as well.

Whether she was worried about Gant or for him was something she chose not to examine in detail. If he took it as the latter, well and good; if the former, at least he couldn't say she didn't have cause.

"Oh, dear." The words could have been sarcastic, but she kept them from it by force of will. "Did you do anything to provoke this, or was it merely the act of a criminal mind? There do seem to be a lot of them." There'd been a note up to that effect -- Was anyone else supposed to be in prison? Lana hadn't replied; by her own perception, the answer was no. And there were enough secrets to investigate here without bringing in those from home.

It might have been Niikura; while Lana'd found him a reasonable young man, she'd been wrong before. And if Edgeworth or Wright had said something; well, Gant did have a history of stabbing his colleagues in the back. Far, far too literally.

"We're never going to do anything about Aguilar if we can't put aside our grievances." Her lips pressed into a thin line; threading her way through this conversation without stepping into their own history was impossible, but if they both implicitly agreed to pretend not to notice, they might make it. He'd know she didn't just mean him and his not-so-lap-dog. She wasn't offering to defend him. Hypocrisy wasn't on the menu. But she could try to smooth things out. Step over the gaps between whatever he'd asked and what Niikura had heard, if that was what had happened. It seemed a reasonable enough initial guess, based on the personalities involved.

"Right?"

It was always his fault, wasn't it? That's certainly what it sounded like she was insinuating, but he would forgive her. He didn't have a stainless track record concerning his history with Lana. Still, he would have liked a little more support from an old partner.

"'course I didn't provoke it." It may have sounded like pouting coming from him, but he didn't much care if it was childish or not. He wasn't the bad guy this time, dammit!

"I'm doing all I can to make up for the past! We all need to work together to get out of this... hell, but I can't be the only one doing all the work!" He nearly slammed his fist down on the table, but managed to restrain himself. He didn't need to cause a scene. No, he had to cool down, take a deep breath, and focus on not taking it all out on Lana. She was perhaps his only ally in this place. He didn't need to alienate her too.

"Right, right." He took another deep breath. "Of course that's right. But what else can I do, Lana? If all this bad blood continues circulating, I don't know if we'll ever manage to make progress."

You reap what you sow, former Chief of Police?. Lana didn't say it. Instead, she picked her next words carefully. Placating his temper was simple, at times. Flattery without dishonesty; and in this case she knew just how. "You've spent years at the top of the food chain. So have I. We can't waltz in here and expect people for whom Crime Computer sounds more like a a video game than an accolade to listen to us."

"If you really want to make progress, I think you know what you need to do." She wasn't sure he remembered how to be humble, rather than just dissembling, and teenagers had remarkably good eyes for that kind of thing. Possibly because almost everyone was humoring them, given most teenagers behavior, so it was a safe assumption. Nor was she truly sure he wanted to find an answer.

Here, he was free, as long as he kept from annoying too many well-armed teenagers. But so were the biggest criminals of all; those running this system, and she didn't doubt his anger was genuine.

She looked him in the eye. He'd given her that look so many times. You can do this, it said. Even if it goes against your very nature.

She was right. She was always right. But he hated to admit something like that. Especially when her tone was kind of... threatening? He wasn't used to hearing those kinds of words out of her. Or getting those kinds of challenging looks. He cleared his throat.

"Right... right." Gant sighed and rubbed at his eyes. God, he hated this place. He hated the food. He hated most of the people here. Of course, there were some nice-ish things about it. Like how it wasn't death row, and how Lana had sort of looked past his past law-bending. But was it enough to balance out the risks one had no choice in taking for this place?

"I need an objective. Something to keep me busy." If he had something to hold his interest, he could ditch all the vigilante weirdos and at least feel like he was making progress. Maybe reinvent the Crime Computer into something new. That might actually be fun.

"Don't we all." She put one hand up and rubbed her temples, though she wasn't really tired. They'd both been trying to investigate without a place to start, and getting lost in the details. At least Lana knew she had; this wasn't one case, it was over a hundred kidnappings, and then there was all this nonsense with Aguilar and Landel.

She wanted to ask him if he'd considered attempting to ingratiate himself to the staff. He was capable of it, certainly, and she was beginning to believe him capable of sacrificing any of them to do it. But if he had already thought of that, he was either doing it and this whole conversation was cover, or he'd failed.

"What about putting together some kind of protectionist force? Not everyone here is well-suited to going out and fighting monsters every night." It would give him a distressing amount of influence, but they did need it, and he could do it. The fact that he'd use it to protect himself against Niikura was a sideline. Of course. It sounded more like something the Kitaki's would run than an officer of the law, but she was beginning to wonder how much difference there was.

He didn't have to ask if she was having a hard time too. Everyone here was having a hard time, with varying levels of stress and failure.

Honestly, Gant would have tried had the opportunity arose, but as it stood he had missed his one moment he might have spoken to Landel. During the military invasion when the Head Doctor had been booted out. His only chance, gone, and then the point became moot anyway. So, if she had asked, he would have said the thought had crossed his mind, but honestly, no, he had never tried to move up the ladder here.

"That's an idea." He couldn't be altogether thrilled with the thought of playing bodyguard every night. But he wouldn't rule it out as a possibility. And if he got enough peons to do it, soon he could go about safely with a few in toe himself. Not a bad idea at all. "I'm sure we could create some sort of defense force. There are a few people here with good morals." Gant probably wasn't one of them, but that was beside the point.

"And a few more with relevant experience." The fact that Officer Meekins was the only one who came to mind immediately as technically qualified on both counts was a bit distressing, but there had to be others.

"I know it's been attempted before, but it looks like most of the organizing forces have left the Institute." Not in a way that suggested a connection; people came and went with depressing regularity, and the clubs had suffered for it.

"You might want to ask Lamperouge about the history, as well as anyone who might be interested. He's made quite the hobby of collecting information." So had Lana, and the rest of the investigators trapped there, but only Lamperouge had ranked information dispersal as highly as obtaining it in the first place.

It was a wise choice; she'd just been thinking about how often people left, and while possessions were often left behind, knowledge was not.

"All the more reason for a new group to step up." If the competition was weak, Gant could possibly create a monopoly on the market. He had the people skills for it, if only some people didn't go around trying to ruin his reputation. He just needed to gather the right crew, and soon enough he could be racking in a lot of popularity points from the patient body. And it would give him something constructive to do. Killing two birds and all that.

The comments about Lamperouge would have normally seemed natural and kind, but in his current state all Gant could hear was sarcasm and threatening intent. He squared the name away, but couldn't let himself think too much on the matter today. There was just something... off about it all.

He shook his head. He needed to check something. "Lana. I'm not... I mean, you're not angry with me about something, are you?" The question was asked point blank. There was real sincerity in the chief's voice. He just had to know, or else this dark vibe that had been following him all day was going to drive him crazy with suspicion.

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Day 58: Lunch

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