Once Lana had taken the flower, L gave Edgar a nod of acknowledgment and reversed the whole process: he zipped the bag shut, replaced it on the less tender of his shoulders, retrieved his torch, and switched the light back on.
Then, L watched Lana, his gaze keen and intent. Would the supposed cure work? He'd felt responsible for her, especially after the long slog through cold, wet fields and woods, where the reward for all their labor had turned out to be healing for only one of them. If that -- if it wasn't an illusion of some kind.
His stare broke when she spoke to him. He replied, airily, with a put-upon expression, "Yes, I was thinking that we could wander aimlessly." There was a beat of silence, and he added in a more serious tone, "To be honest, it depends on the condition everyone is in." He turned his head to meet Edgar's eyes, then turned it back to address Lana again. "The two of you" -- he glanced at Nina -- "haven't attempted the basement yet, I believe? It might be an option, but there's something important that everyone should understand before trying it... and even then, everyone needs to be in good shape. I have a portal ring that will take us there, but I can't guarantee most of what we'll find once we're down there.
"The other option is what we were attempting to do last night: another visit to the X-Ray Room to be sure that, if an implant was making us sick, the St John's Wort destroyed it. This might turn out to be the less taxing choice... but if we do that, I'd like to try to go to the basement tomorrow."
Apart from his brief glances at the others, he hadn't looked away from Lana. He reached up to run his fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp.
If they went to the X-Ray Room, he realized, the others might see the first implant. They shouldn't... they should be taking images of his stomach... but none of them was a trained radiologist. That line of thought led him to wonder whether he'd choose to do it. He could confirm for himself that it had happened, and he could let the others know what had been done to him, within certain limits.
He would never tell anyone about some of the elements of the procedure. If he could have the implant removed, one day, he would try to forget it had ever been there.
no subject
Once Lana had taken the flower, L gave Edgar a nod of acknowledgment and reversed the whole process: he zipped the bag shut, replaced it on the less tender of his shoulders, retrieved his torch, and switched the light back on.
Then, L watched Lana, his gaze keen and intent. Would the supposed cure work? He'd felt responsible for her, especially after the long slog through cold, wet fields and woods, where the reward for all their labor had turned out to be healing for only one of them. If that -- if it wasn't an illusion of some kind.
His stare broke when she spoke to him. He replied, airily, with a put-upon expression, "Yes, I was thinking that we could wander aimlessly." There was a beat of silence, and he added in a more serious tone, "To be honest, it depends on the condition everyone is in." He turned his head to meet Edgar's eyes, then turned it back to address Lana again. "The two of you" -- he glanced at Nina -- "haven't attempted the basement yet, I believe? It might be an option, but there's something important that everyone should understand before trying it... and even then, everyone needs to be in good shape. I have a portal ring that will take us there, but I can't guarantee most of what we'll find once we're down there.
"The other option is what we were attempting to do last night: another visit to the X-Ray Room to be sure that, if an implant was making us sick, the St John's Wort destroyed it. This might turn out to be the less taxing choice... but if we do that, I'd like to try to go to the basement tomorrow."
Apart from his brief glances at the others, he hadn't looked away from Lana. He reached up to run his fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp.
If they went to the X-Ray Room, he realized, the others might see the first implant. They shouldn't... they should be taking images of his stomach... but none of them was a trained radiologist. That line of thought led him to wonder whether he'd choose to do it. He could confirm for himself that it had happened, and he could let the others know what had been done to him, within certain limits.
He would never tell anyone about some of the elements of the procedure. If he could have the implant removed, one day, he would try to forget it had ever been there.