Day 66: Breakfast

[nobleman]

What Guy had seen on that scan resulted in some mixed feelings. While he had expected to find something in Claude, seeing how he was sick, it hadn't been quite the same as what they'd seen when they had scanned that other ill patient two nights ago. What did that mean? It was possible that the shape of it just looked different because of where it was in Claude's stomach, but Guy couldn't help but feel that there was a deeper meaning to it.

Yet another thing that he didn't understand, then. With a sigh, he got himself up out of bed and went searching immediately for the single leaf that he'd taken from the X-ray room last night. It was stored carefully in his possessions box, which meant that he didn't have to worry too much about that.

While he wanted to quickly sketch the leaf's general shape to post on the bulletin, Guy wasn't given that chance, as his nurse showed up before he could even grab for his journal. He had to relent and let her lead him to the cafeteria for breakfast. While Guy considered stopping by the bulletin to leave a note, that could wait until after he ate. He suspected that Anise or Luke would try to find him as soon as possible to tell him about their findings, so leaving a note for them would be redundant.

He did need to ask about the clue from last night and see if anyone else had further insight on it, but that might be something Claude wanted to do, seeing how he had a better idea of who that baptist was and what it all might signify.

After collecting a small amount of food onto a plate, Guy took a seat near the cafeteria's entrance, keeping an eye out for any of his friends so he could flag them down as they walked in.

[For Anise and Claude.]

Comments

[stop_the_rain]

Murphy glanced up and shook his head at the younger guy. Disturb him from what? Staring at his breakfast?

"Not exactly working on rocket science over here," he mumbled, gripping his fork but not lifting it to eat. What was the point? Even if it was good food, what was the damned point?

But that wasn't fair, and the little rosary in his room was proof of that. There was a point, somewhere, there always was. He didn't get it, that was all. God worked in mysterious ways and all of that, but it was starting t drive Murphy mad. In the Bible, God had no problem just telling people what He meant or wanted. Or at least sending His angels.

Murphy had gotten Silent Hill and now this.

"You're not bugging me, I mean."

[unpriest]

Even though he was no longer playing the part of a priest in Sotoba, it was interesting how naturally Seishin kept slipping into the pleasant and polite mannerisms. 'Old habits die hard', was it not? But this was not Sotoba, it was not as though anyone expected him to behave in this manner...

There were the expectations again, clinging to him unpleasantly like soaked clothing after a downpour. Nonetheless, the comments drew a polite smile on his lips.

"That's...good," he said, a little uncertain how else he'd ought to respond, "The nurses... they can be a little pushy, I suppose." If he felt any contempt for just that, his voice did not carry any of it. If anything, he sounded friendly and a little apologetic.

[stop_the_rain]

"Eh, it's their job. Maybe." Murphy shrugged. "I dunno. It's pretty easy to ignore them as long as they're not talking to you." They were just like the COs and guards back at Ryall. A part of the scenery, and only something to worry about if you did something to draw their attention. At least he was good at not drawing any attention.

"So what are you..." he almost said 'in for', because as his breakfast companion had been thinking, old habits died hard. "Where are you from?" he amended. He didn't really know what the standard conversation opener in 21st century hell was.

[unpriest]

"I suppose that's true," Seishin said, though he did not entirely agree. Then again, maybe the nurses had never really bothered checking whether this man's bandages were still in place because they assumed he was prone to self-destructive behaviour. But that was not the man's fault, was it?

"...I'm from a small village in Japan," the novelist responded after a small delay, purposely excluding the village's name. His breakfast companion wouldn't have heard of it, regardless -- Sotoba had been isolated from the rest of the world, after all.

"What about you?" he asked, moving the subject away from himself by returning the question.

[stop_the_rain]

"Shit, no kidding?" Murphy shook his head. "Met a kid from Japan the other night. I'm from the states, New England." He didn't know how careful he had to be here. "Massachusetts," he clarified, figuring that was safe enough. And hell, it's not like this guy had given a name for his village.

Everybody had secrets.

Small talk had never really been one of Murphy's specialities. And he was still getting used to this. In Ryall, people didn't talk to him at mealtime. He was the kind of guy the other cons avoided, for various reasons over the years. And then he'd been deemed a cop-killer and he'd been in solitary. He was still getting used to people again.

"But I guess it doesn't matter in here," he said, finally beginning to eat. "Abandon all hope and all that."

[unpriest]

Seishin offered a nod in understanding. Unsurprisingly, he had never been towards the United States -- or anywhere outside of Japan, for that matter. His time at university in the city had been his only break from Sotoba, and even that was only temporary. His chains would never have allowed him to go any further.

Abandon all hope. It was a depressing thought, but it was fitting enough. He glanced at his food, looking sad for a moment. "But... it's all we have, isn't it? Can't help but to keep wandering through the fog..." His voice was quiet as he spoke, more so than usual. It wasn't directed to anyone in particular, and the former priest continued to absentmindedly prod his food for a moment.

"I'm...Muroi Seishin," he said after a pause, raising his gaze to meet the other man's before offering a polite bow of his head.

[stop_the_rain]

"Huh?" And then Murphy shook his head, grinning just a little. Cultural weirdness was bound to happen. It had happened in jail, too.

"Oh, no it's...it's a quote," he explained. "From this...poem book thing I had to read in school. It's about this guy who gets a tour of heaven and hell, basically. In the book there's a sign on the gates to hell, and it says 'Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here'. I was just calling this place hell."

In a really round about way.

"I'm Murphy. Good to know you." When no had was extended, Murphy didn't extend one of his own.

[unpriest]

"Ah-- I see," Seishin said, visibly growing a little embarrassed. "Hell is...fitting, yes." He returned his gaze to his plate again, continuing to prod the food. This was... awkward.

A part of him wanted to know which book that was, but he was too embarrassed to ask. Moreover, it did not seem to be an appropriate question, did it? At the introduction, he offered a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you too, Murphy-san."

[stop_the_rain]

"I don't remember much of it, other than that," Murphy admitted. "Except that the parts in hell...I think they gave me nightmares as a kid. But that was probably the point..." He shook his head, and realized he was rambling and offering no context.

"Uh...I was raised by Catholic nuns," he explained. "Some of'em had the idea the best way to make kids behave is make'em terrified of what Satan might do. I believed it, too, when I was little. And that hell was all fire and brimstone and having your skin flayed all the time." He looked at his food for a moment, voice growing more somber.

"I know different, now."

[unpriest]

"Using fear to make people behave as you see fit. It's...awful, isn't it?" But for some reason, terribly common, as though morals could not be learned in some other way. In Sotoba, they told their children that people would rise their very graves; little did the villagers know that it would actually happen. But even excluding the supernatural elements, the villagers had their ways of pressuring others into doing what they wanted.

The somber tone of Murphy-san's voice did not escape the former priest's notice, and he offered a sympathetic look. The tone did not imply that the other man believed that Hell did not exist. No, it implied that he had seen it, in some form or another that was not necessarily this institute.

"Hell is not a burning inferno below our feet," he agreed. The ones would claim otherwise were only terribly short-sighted

[stop_the_rain]

"But it's what people do." People in authority, in Murphy's experience, were assholes. Almost all of them. The exceptions to the rule were pretty few and far between. He just sort of nodded at the somewhat kind look, getting that feeling that maybe this guy had seen his share of hell, too.

"Nope," he agreed, stabbing at his food. "We've all got our own private hell, I think. Made just for us. And every bad thing we do adds another room to it." And if you were lucky there were few enough rooms that you could somehow find your way out.

Or you were Murphy, and you found your way here.

[unpriest]

"I suppose that's true," Seishin affirmed quietly, "People...They do tend to enforce their will upon others, pushing expectations upon them..."

He trailed off, partly wandering why he was telling Murphy-san all this. He lowered his gaze again, shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. "My apologies, I guess I'm rambling."

Maybe because it felt like Murphy-san had, somehow, experienced something similar.

A private Hell. He nodded in agreement. "But one can't help but to wander through those rooms, can they?" he said without looking up from his plate, "Wander forever, finding a way to sever those chains of despair while Paradise has long since rejected the damned." There was no such thing as salvation. Happy endings did not exist; they were trite, forced, meant to please the masses but held no truth in real life.

Like him, in a way. His own truth was a serpent, a snake lying in wait. It had coiled around him with its suffocating hold, a connection to his own personal Hell that could not be severed; that vile reptile would not disappear with any amount of pleasing.

He smiled sadly. "Hell is everywhere."