[From here]

It was cold. But for once, it wasn't the first thought that crossed Wolfram's mind as he was practically thrown into the giant cooler. He was more worried about his eyes than anything. It still hurt to open them, and when he tried nothing would focus anyways. And he could still hear what was going on in the kitchen behind him.

Crawling over to the nearest side, still clinging possessively to his items, he tried to focus on listening for Aidou and "John" as best as he could, trembling more in fear than from the cold. Not that he would admit to being almost terrified. No, of course not. Wasn't like he wouldn't be seeing that ugly thing in his dreams for the next five years at least.

[from here]

For some reason, Mello had expected stale air and the scent of moldy books, but the space the doorway opened into was as pristine as any laboratory.  He cast a quick beam of light around the room, following it with a slower one, and spent a second listening for any reaction.  Nothing.

Landel certainly knew how to spend a swollen budget.  Mello walked past a few pricey-looking bookshelves and leaned over a leather chair, resting his weight against the tabletop with one palm.  The computer was new, with the type of aesthetic detail that indicated it probably cost the institute four times what it would have cost to buy six months later, though its overall design placed it about a decade behind what Mello was used to. 

His thumb pressed into the power button and he listened closely, watching the screen.  No immediate reaction, but he waited, hand not moving.  Maybe it just needed a second to register.  Even the best turn-of-the-century technology was moody.