The intercom message was unnerving. Again with this I.R.I.S. thing, and some nonsense about guests and tours. What the hell was going on? Was the head doctor really dead? That seemed to be the theory, but Asch couldn't be sure. He hadn't thought this place could get any nuttier, but apparently, it could.

Asch wasn't sure he even felt like eating, but the nurse insisted. So he got his tray of food and sat in the corner of the cafeteria, away from the other patients. He was well aware that this particular strategy was flawed, of course, as it had yet to provide him with anything resembling peace and quiet.

He hoped against hope, though, that he wouldn't be bothered. That annoying guy that used to room with the replica had no reason to come and bother him, and he'd spoken to Claude yesterday. He knew that the man from the night before - Apollo, that was what he'd written on the bulletin board - wanted to repay him somehow, but that wasn't exactly going to happen at a lunch table.

He reminded himself that he'd have to take the kitchen shears to Alfred to exchange for the meat cleaver, once night fell. The cleaver wasn't his first choice of weapon, but it beat the hell out of stabbing things with shears.

He took a drink of his juice and sighed. Maybe he'd get in contact with ZEX regarding night shift; he wasn't sure he wanted to venture out alone.

[Guy]

When the shift changed, HK stayed put. Even after a long night of zombie killing, he had no interest in meatbag fuel, especially after all the discussion of chocolate with that rather strange meatbag. It was just making him crave the stuff even more than he had previously, if that was possible.

Oh, right. He was supposed to be looking for someone who was "VERY LARGE, WITH DARK HAIR." And also seemed to not know what lower-case letters were on the bulletin. As if that would help. He'd seen a likely candidate last shift, but talk of chocolate had distracted him.