DAY 65: Breakfast

[envy_the_sinners]

Scar came to slowly, vision blurred and head throbbing. His memory of the previous night was vague and somewhat scattered. What he was most aware of was his renewed and increased hatred for the man called Lingormr. The Ishbalan didn't give a damn if he had been a special counseling patient. That bastard had enjoyed every second of tearing Scar to shreds. What he may or may not have realized was how much it had affected Scar emotionally. He had felt a renewed sense of drive at the start of the night; the disruption on the intercom and the news of the 'cure' had rekindled a fire that fueled Scar to drive forward. To have a little hope.

Lingormr had promptly crushed that.

He was in pain. So much pain. The cut on his hand was only fading scab at this point, but stitches now pulled at the deep gashes in his legs and back. Not only had the nausea not settled, but his stomach was beginning to cramp. The rash on his arm was impossible to hide without the old bandages covering it. It had nearly reached his elbow.

Scar's hazy eyes could make out the nurse, now pushing a wheelchair up to his bedside. This was humiliating. And he was too exhausted and hurting to lash out or become angry. He was just broken. He still tried to take some sort of grudging control, insisting that he didn't need to be pushed around, that he could at least turn the wheels of the damned chair himself. But he didn't make it down the hallway before the pulling and sharp pain in his back became so obvious on his face that the nurse took over.

He entered breakfast with a frustrated, tired, but overall defeated look to him. Scar felt too sick to eat. He sat at the table and brooded, wishing more than anything to simply be left alone.

[For Goku!]

Comments

[rocksthecourt]

Aggravation wasn't really a good way to start the day off, but there was no helping it by this point. Unfortunately, he had no one but himself to blame for it. Klavier understood all too well how this place could be both physically and emotionally draining. He regularly found himself exhausted. But he was no exception; everyone else was exhausted as well. So there was absolutely no excuse for him to have slept through the entire night like that. Moreover, he was shaken by the idea that he had so easily closed his eyes and let his guard down during the most dangerous hours this place had to offer. It was careless.

Perhaps it was a testament to the heavy toll this place had had on him. Maybe he had needed the rest. He felt a little more refreshed this morning, admittedly, so perhaps it was for the better in the end. But he still didn't like it.

He also didn't like this atmosphere lingering over the cafeteria as he walked in. There was no proper way to pinpoint it exactly. People often looked desolate first thing in the morning, after all. Despite that, there was a noticeable heaviness on many of the faces he walked by. The room itself seemed more hushed and tense. It wasn't exactly difficult to speculate that something or several somethings had happened the night prior. Just wondering about what exactly he may have missed made him nervous, especially if it garnered this kind of mass reaction.

Klavier gathered his breakfast, quietly eyeing the people around him more than his food and trying to guess. His best bet was to probably check the bulletin after eating, but that was a limited source since it was so public. Interrogating people first thing in the morning probably wasn't a good idea either, and people were probably going to be irritable and jumpy all day. He had no choice but to be patient... and careful, he supposed.

It was for that reason he decided it might be best to sit with someone who didn't seem so openly depressed and at their mental limits. One such person was a white-haired man (not old; just white-haired) who seemed more focused on gorging himself on his breakfast than anything else. Sitting with someone like that, the worst that could happen would be getting ignored in favor of french toast. A reasonable choice.

"I'm guessing it tastes pretty good," he said as he placed his tray down in front of the seat across from the man. He offered a light, harmless smile. "I'd been wondering if they did it any justice."

[sorry it took so long getting to this]

[oneman_onekill]

"Mm?" Niikura looked up, halfway through chewing a piece of toast. Oh, this was kind of awkward. Some blond guy had sat down across from him, and of course had to comment on his...enthusiasm.

He desperately wanted to be snappy and irritated even though the man had been polite about it, just because he could, but he could be also better than that, and it wasn't worth it to get that worked up this early in the day. Maybe this could even turn out for the better; he could take his mind off of things for a few minutes and have a nice, civil conversation, couldn't he?

...yeah, it was a pipe dream, but Niikura was going for it.

"Aye--" He swallowed hard and coughed, pounding his chest for a second to make sure it all went down the right way. "It's pretty good. I gotta say, as much as it sucks bein' here, at least the food's alright." He'd found himself more thankful than ever for it after eating pink something or another for several days straight, actually.