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

[stlg13bomber.livejournal.com]

Carter's face lit up like Fourth of July with extra gunpowder. "Really?" he asked excitedly, leaning over the picture and trying not to touch it with his gluey fingers. He wasn't completely sure what it was supposed to be, but it was still obviously some form of weapon that caused loud booms.

"Materials is my biggest problem. I can make a molotov easy, a baby could do that, and if you get me some gasoline or TNT I'm golden, but it's hard to find anything useful in the closets around here. I've tried making explosives with basic kitchen chemicals but it...didn't go so well." Chlorine gas, really, what had he been thinking? Sure, it exploded, but not in a way that was controllable. Or safe. Or good for secret base structural integrity. "What about you? Do you do...magic bombs?"

[girlsandgadgets]

Ah, materials. While they shared an interest, they also shared a problem: the supplies at the institute were all they had at their disposal, and without the proper materials, it was tricky to make even the basest of inventions. Edgar had been fortunate in his search to find a few gadgets worth taking, even if they needed more than a few modifications; however, not everyone could have the same luck.

"Hm..." He thought for a moment over Carter's words, tapping his pencil on the page before him. "I understand that problem well enough, believe me. Have you tried the shed in the courtyard? I've found a few useful pieces in there for my projects, like a delightful number called a lawnmower," —his smile widened as he recalled the contraption, the blades on it a perfect match for the string trimmer— "but I've had to look other places for some of the finer parts."

Another pause. "And if you've not checked there already, you might also try the supply closets in the eastern wing of the second floor. I know there are some chemicals located there, though I couldn't tell you which. It's not exactly my area of expertise."

[stlg13bomber.livejournal.com]

Really, a lawnmower? He must have been from somewhere as primitive as that man he'd met in the shower if a lawnmower was fantastical. But Carter wouldn't laugh at him, he'd been rude enough today.

Carter returned to cutting out little red stockings, but he kept his manic grin. "I know which closet you're talking about, I went up there with a few guys once. I didn't see anything useful at the time, but it was pretty dark and the bottles weren't labeled all that clearly."

The real problem was that Carter wasn't a chemist. He was a masterful bomber but he wasn't good even at pretending to be a scientist in any other area. He just knew what worked, as if by instinct or intuition. The long strings of letters that described molecular shapes and bonds meant nothing to him.

[girlsandgadgets]

Folding his drawing, Edgar placed the paper into his pocket, quickly replacing the sheet with a fresh one in the hopes the soldiers wouldn't notice the switch. Whether they didn't notice or didn't care was unclear: they took no action, either way.

His eyes strayed as he pulled the paper toward him, spotting Locke as he entered the room. That was another conversation waiting to happen: just what was he going to say when it came to the topic of Celes? The thief was one of his truest friends- he couldn't avoid the subject forever; however, revealing that someone as strong as the former general had broken under the influence of the institute... it was a hard pill for even Edgar himself to swallow. It could wait a few days, at least- granted Locke wasn't gone by then.

And if he was gone, then there would be no need to discuss it at all. What a somber note.

"I'll have to keep my eyes open for anything that may be of use to you, then," he said, starting a new sketch. Something pleasant this time- less chainsaw, more chocobo. "Like I've said before: I believe cooperation is going to be a key factor in figuring out what makes this place tick. Or explode, for that matter."