--Not the drug trials, then, L thought. It could have been a sleep study, but then she would have had to have slept through all of Saturday and most of Sunday afterward. That seems improbable.
If she's someone Edgar knows, I think he would have mentioned her... but he underwent the experimentation himself Friday night, and he was with me the night before. At the time, he was concerned about Celes. This isn't her. Nothing about the girl had come through with the strange transference of emotion and memory that they'd experienced Thursday night, either. He must know her, though... if he doesn't, he wouldn't have reacted to her the way he did.
L made the last few folds, then picked up his handiwork, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger and bringing it close to his eyes to examine it. The small bird had come out well. A tug at its tail showed him that its wings even flapped the way they were intended to.
"The names on the tags don't matter much. The man who was formerly in charge of this place was interested in convincing us that those were our real names. I don't think the current staff has the same goal... they seem less interested in whether or not you believe it than in whether or not you'll keep up the appearance of it."
He held the crane out to her, still pinched between his fingertips at the top center point. Neither his flat expression nor his matter-of-fact tone of voice changed. "Here. I'm sure they'll let you keep this. Has someone who told you that Tina was the wrong name told you one that they thought was right?"
He had another question, but her actions would answer it: he was curious to see how she would respond to a small gift. He had chosen to make the flying crane because a flower had seemed too obvious, and a block-like balloon too boring. The paper bird could have been an excuse to re-initiate the conversation if it had stalled completely; if it had gone more smoothly, it could have been "spontaneously" offered as a sign of their new rapport, trading on the sentimentality to which young women often seemed to be prone. Now, he thought that she might be indifferent to the present, or that, at best, it might help him gain a few kernels of her trust, to continue to draw her out, maybe make her begin to think of him as a friend in a difficult situation.
The soldiers would probably take the crane away in the morning, then give it back at night, though. He added, as an apparent afterthought, "You'll find a book on or in your desk in the room they take you to after this one. I'd keep the bird there. If nothing else, doing so might let you know if they're reading your journal."
no subject
If she's someone Edgar knows, I think he would have mentioned her... but he underwent the experimentation himself Friday night, and he was with me the night before. At the time, he was concerned about Celes. This isn't her. Nothing about the girl had come through with the strange transference of emotion and memory that they'd experienced Thursday night, either. He must know her, though... if he doesn't, he wouldn't have reacted to her the way he did.
L made the last few folds, then picked up his handiwork, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger and bringing it close to his eyes to examine it. The small bird had come out well. A tug at its tail showed him that its wings even flapped the way they were intended to.
"The names on the tags don't matter much. The man who was formerly in charge of this place was interested in convincing us that those were our real names. I don't think the current staff has the same goal... they seem less interested in whether or not you believe it than in whether or not you'll keep up the appearance of it."
He held the crane out to her, still pinched between his fingertips at the top center point. Neither his flat expression nor his matter-of-fact tone of voice changed. "Here. I'm sure they'll let you keep this. Has someone who told you that Tina was the wrong name told you one that they thought was right?"
He had another question, but her actions would answer it: he was curious to see how she would respond to a small gift. He had chosen to make the flying crane because a flower had seemed too obvious, and a block-like balloon too boring. The paper bird could have been an excuse to re-initiate the conversation if it had stalled completely; if it had gone more smoothly, it could have been "spontaneously" offered as a sign of their new rapport, trading on the sentimentality to which young women often seemed to be prone. Now, he thought that she might be indifferent to the present, or that, at best, it might help him gain a few kernels of her trust, to continue to draw her out, maybe make her begin to think of him as a friend in a difficult situation.
The soldiers would probably take the crane away in the morning, then give it back at night, though. He added, as an apparent afterthought, "You'll find a book on or in your desk in the room they take you to after this one. I'd keep the bird there. If nothing else, doing so might let you know if they're reading your journal."