Day 58: Arts & Crafts (Fourth shift)

[immortale]

Firo was glad to see the end of lunch, if only for the fact that in a few more hours, the day would be over. Night was the only time he had any real freedom of movement, and it was the only time he could do something worth doing, instead of just sitting around.

The usual soldier came to fetch him shortly after the announcement, with only a curt, "Come along, Saviano." Firo frowned, but followed him out of the cafeteria into the Sun Room.

He would have been fine with stopping there, but the soldier apparently had other ideas. When Firo stopped, he went so far as to grab hold of his shoulder and roughly steer him into one of the adjoining rooms, ignoring his protests all the while. The new room was full of round tables with various items like colored paper and paint in the middle, and Firo had a sinking feeling about it. What had the activity mentioned in the announcement been? Arts and crafts?

"What am I supposed to do in here?" he spat at the guard.

"Draw a flower. Make a bracelet. I don't care," was the gruff response before the soldier disappeared out the door.

Firo had half a mind to follow him out, but no—he'd wait a few minutes first, just in case he got shoved back into the pointless room. In the meantime, he took a seat at one of the tables, turning his chair towards the door and leaning his head against one arm propped up on the table.

[For Battler]

Comments

[threepwood]

Guybrush snorted, still a little sore about the part where he turned into whatever-a-tailypo-was and gave Javert another thrilling experience to tell the handful of remaining members of the Search & Rescue. Sure, everything was back in its rightful place by morning, and the inspector said to put it aside, but there was some wounded pride rearing its head, even if Guybrush did bring the consequences on himself.

No, especially because he brought them on himself. This was why weird potions ought to be left to the experts. Or the idiots. Or the more gullible idiots than himself, at the very least. Elaine would have rolled her eyes at his reckless antics somewhere along the way, but desperation made a man do crazy things, like drink mystery concoctions in a spooky infirmary where he was being held hostage.

"Being careful really isn't my specialty," Guybrush admitted, finally uncapping the pen and making a scribble on the sheet in front of him. He took no caution mentioning his blade in front of the guards- they took it away during the day anyway, and probably thought he was delusional at best. What would they do, give him even worse food? "Not that I go wandering around unarmed. I've got my own sword, and I'm an expert in the art of insult swordfighting. I'm more formidable than I look."

[selfnighted.livejournal.com]

Still, it was suspect. What did the general want monsters for? Threepwood seemed fine enough; as long as she was careful to keep herself reigned in, Maya could find out for herself....

No, it was still silly. She'd already determined that the drugs were experimental, after all. At the very least, any data the general gleaned from her efforts definitely fell more in his favor than in hers. Pity.

"Mr. Threepwood, if you have your own sword, why did you take the drugs?" Maya asked, astonished. She'd thought the weapon had been the only consolation for doing so. Unless... "For the rank?" Maya had thought the ranks merely satiated the general's arrogance; patients scurrying around to win the general's favor certainly seemed a bit self-centered of him. Maya had simply thought it was typical of the military and had taken no notice. A mistake, perhaps?

[threepwood]

"Well..." Guybrush was getting a similar vibe from Maya that he'd gotten from Javert the night before: that 'why in the world would you do this' feeling that usually came from someone who either wasn't willing to take the risks often necessary to further the plot, or had enough common sense to avoid obvious traps. He was guessing that, like the experienced inspector, she was the latter.

He rubbed the back of his head. "They said they'd give out pins for it, and I figured more pins meant a better rank, and a better rank meant better food. Desperate times call for desperate measures, Maya. In good news, I learned my lesson and got a thorough 'I told you so' from the inspector who was with me- you know, after the part where I attacked him. In bad news, I'm still getting fed the pink stuff they call gruel, so it didn't work out all that well for me."

Oh, that was right. With his hook, Guybrush removed his hat to show Maya the pin attached to it. "There's the reward for my trouble. It doesn't represent all the trauma of having my bones rearrange themselves very well, but at least it looks nice."