Night 58: West Wing, North Hall 1-B

[promisedawhale.livejournal.com]

[from here]

"I wonder where everyone is at?" Brook paused a moment in his humming to question at the empty hallway.

He knew he'd left his room in a bit more of a rush than was his usual, but still, more patients were about at this time of night. It was strange to see not only so little of a number, but even stranger to have no one else passing him by. He thought back to what announcements had been made only to realize that only one had broadcasted. That short message at the beginning of the night: Code 1-8. The message had been mysterious enough to warrant an equally short comment from Brook to his guard about it, but the lacking response had caused Brook to let the man alone. Now though, he had the feeling that he should have pressed more about the reasoning.

His humming resumed as he took the usual left and tried not to worry even more for what might have been happening this evening. "Code 1-8" didn't sound good. Then again, in this place, nothing did.

[from here]

Comments

[cons]

At first she just sort of stared at him, through his excuses for coming back and the radio transmission, because... oh. Well. Alright. Sure. Maybe he was only trying to sound more legit by mentioning his crew, and they didn't actually need him. Maybe. Kinda suspicious either way.

Wichita hadn't honestly been expecting Kirk-- Riverside to catch up with her, but it was sort of a blessing because she couldn't seem to get her map out of her boot anyway. Not without sitting down and untying it, and that seemed like entirely too much effort when she now had someone with her that knew the way. Usually she didn't trust anyone so quickly with this sort of thing, not when it was possible that he had an ulterior motive or some angle to play, but it was extremely difficult not letting herself just trust him. He knew the place, knew the random voices on the radio she never bothered to pay attention to, and seemed calmer than a lot of the other 'patients' in this place, so. That was enough, for now. Until she got her hands on a bat, anyway.

'Unfairly hot' made her grin, but it was too late to comment on that. And she wanted to ask about the radios, but. Maybe later. Getting a bat and being armed, that was the important thing.

But while she walked, she'd take the bait he set.

"I would actually love to hear a boring story about you. If not just because I was really banking on this being a quick job, maybe some sneaky running to get out to the shed without being seen, but otherwise nothing too risky. Are we talking monsters or armed guards?"

[doneinthree]

"Monsters," Kirk answered. He walked at a steady pace, a little slower than the usual brisk half-run he favoured while navigating the halls of the Institute, but he wasn't in a rush. Yes, fine, Wichita was very attractive, it had been awhile, and he was enjoying the attention, but his intentions weren't completely unpure. Not completely. He knew from experience how easy it was to get off-guard in the hallways just outside the prisoner dormitories.

But for all that Kirk carefully scanned the darkness ahead before each step, his voice was as casual as ever. "Or just one — in my case, anyway. I know, how uncool, I got taken out by just one massive science-experiment-gone-wrong abomination, but trust me: not as cuddly as it sounds. Although, I don't think we'll see her out there tonight..."

While he was pretty sure the chimera-like thing hadn't died on that night, Kirk had seen neither hide nor hair (nor feather) of her since then. It made him shiver to wonder where exactly Landel — and now Aguilar — stored their eldritch creatures during the day.

Maybe he should just be grateful the answer wasn't "anywhere near here," apparently. He and Wichita reached the exit door without incident, and Kirk shouldered it open before stepping into the cold night air.

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