Day 64: Cafeteria (brunch)

[gald_digger]

Well, that went well! Anise had gained herself a gorgeously handsome new friend. She just hoped that weird illness didn't get either of them killed before she could get to know him any better.

... Yeah, that was morbid. It was hard not to think about, though.

Before going to the Cafeteria, Anise made a stop at her room to grab her journal, maps, and a pen. Once she finished eating, she could get a start on copying the maps for Barnaby. He was going to be so glad he met her!

With that done, Anise made her way to the Cafeteria, where she picked up an assortment of food, making sure to get some meat, vegetables, and milk on her tray. She then sat down at a table and set her notes aside while she started on her meal. It was hard not to feel self-conscious about the rash on her arm, though the makeup she used had blended the discolored part enough that it couldn't be seen from a distance. Anise just hoped no one would come specifically looking for it.

[Ilia!]

Comments

[skeletonenigma]

"Hm." Landel had a sense of humor, it seemed. There were a lot of convicted murderers Skulduggery had gotten put away over the years. If he ever received a letter and photograph from any one of them claiming to be a friend, regardless of the circumstances, he'd probably just laugh and throw the whole thing away. Or burn it, depending on how angry he was. "What did the letter tell you? Was there an address on the envelope, or a stamp?"

He was slowly becoming an expert in eating egg. It had a taste, which Skulduggery still considered a luxury. It wasn't a half-bad taste, either. He was halfway through chewing his next mouthful when a small commotion elsewhere in the cafeteria made him look up.

"That would be a doctor, then?" he asked as he watched a man in a white coat storm over to one of the nearby patients. Skulduggery's face almost seemed to fall a moment later. "Please tell me the pretense ends at mandatory therapy."

[tasteoftruth]

"You could get lucky. Doctor Cox just sits around watching football and mocking everyone." Badd had actually found the man's company enjoyable. Cox gave no fucks and neither did Badd, so they'd found some common ground to bond over.

Badd again stirred his breakfast. Thinking back on the letter made him a little queasy. It was lies, sure, but it was lies very close to home...almost designed to be the most painful concept for a false life.

"The letter..." He drew out his words slowly, reluctantly. "Well. Any identifying information was censored out, but it pointed me out as some cop who went insane and confused a serial killer and child kidnapper for an old partner while trying to kill his wife because he thought she'd murdered said partner. They give everyone here a fake life, but god knows why they go to the trouble." Badd licked his lips and stared down at his food, trying not to let the bad thoughts show on his face. Just another reason to kill them all once he had the chance.

[skeletonenigma]

"I see." Doctor Cox did sound like a man Skulduggery would get along with. Then again, he also sounded like Professor Grouse - minus the football - and Kenspeckle Grouse had made it very clear that he did not approve of anything Skulduggery so much as tolerated. Apart from Valkyrie, for some reason. "I've never trusted psychiatrists. Trying to put the human experience into words defeats the purpose of having that experience in the first place, and yet they keep trying. He'd be the first exception I've come across."

Censoring letters made a frustrating kind of sense, both as a mental hospital and as a prison. Just knowing where they were supposed to be would have been helpful, though. Everyone he'd spoken to so far had an American accent, and Badd had mentioned L.A, but that didn't necessarily mean they were in California. Skulduggery was no expert, but the rain outside wasn't exactly L.A.-type weather, was it?

Skulduggery looked at Badd, his face still completely blank. "Interesting," he murmured. "Has anything like that ever happened to you in your real life?"

[tasteoftruth]

Badd liked his thoughts on shrinks, they were quite aligned with Badd's own. Shrinks were like the kids who took things apart to see how they work, often breaking them in the process. Though with Landel that was probably the point.

He gave a short, jerky nod to Skulduggery's question. "The woman in the photograph was the woman who murdered my partner," he said, his voice slightly lowered. Even with Byrne alive again the wound was still open and festering. "And made a few attempts on a kid who's practically family to me. There's a few people in the world I'd like to beat to death more than her but it's a very short list." And Landel knew that. The choice was not random. Somehow he knew their histories intimately enough to know how best to twist the knife on each and every one of them.

The idea that this was hell became more viable the more one picked the place apart.

[skeletonenigma]

He and Badd had more in common than Skulduggery initially thought. Both detectives, both with partners murdered, both with kids they considered family, and a strong desire to protect them. Even though Skulduggery wouldn't quite call Valkyrie a kid anymore, he knew that anyone trying to kill her would meet with a slow and painful death at his hand. Several people already had.

Instead of mentioning the similarities between them, however, Skulduggery just dipped his head lower. "I know the feeling."

He didn't want to talk about Valkyrie, or anyone else from back home. Even thinking about them left a dull ache in his chest, an ache underlying and feeding the ever-present anger seething at the bottom of his mind. Even if Skulduggery managed to escape from here, he would never see them again. It was a fact he needed to understand and accept, because if Landel was going to try and use them against Skulduggery here, he needed to know right away that it wasn't real.

[tasteoftruth]

Badd couldn't read Skulduggery's face, but he could read his tone and his posture quite easily. The skeleton man had lost more than his internal organs. When you put all that magical garbage aside a detective was still a detective, wasn't he? And being a detective hurt. It meant seeing your friends die or fall victim to corruption. It meant failing repeatedly because the crooks found some little loophole that let them run free. And it meant after all that you picked up and kept going, because when you were a detective there wasn't much else you could do. It was in the blood.

Or the bone, as the case might be.

"I'm sorry," Badd said quietly, politely averting his eyes.

[skeletonenigma]

A few moments dragged themselves by, and Skulduggery gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "As you said, bigger problems. There's an old Irish proverb in Gaelic. It roughly translates to 'The power fellow will have another day.' It's basically a very pretentious way of saying the more you live through, the stronger you become, and the greater your chances of survival in the future." He paused, and tilted his head. "Not quite as comforting as I remember it."

He needed to find Yomi. She'd left a lot of things out of her explanation the night before. Not that Skulduggery could particularly blame her; she'd had a lot on her plate. But now that he was on more even ground knowledge-wise, maybe she'd be a bit more willing to talk. She was the closest thing to another mage Skulduggery had encountered so far, and he needed to know more about how power was limited here. He needed to know how dangerous he would be if something managed to break through his careful control of his emotions, and how far people should run if that happened.