The Head Doctor had at last stepped down from his early morning energy. When he next addressed the patients and staff, the man passed for somber to an attentive listener.

Sadly, to most, he seemed a hair less excited than before, which likely changed nothing in their minds.

"Hello again, everyone. I hope you enjoyed our new lunch setup. If we garner enough interest, we may be able to add this to our daily route so please provide any and all feedback on this shift to the staff!"

The please bordered on begging, as though the Head Doctor was truly interested in the potential critique. This somehow was deemed as odd as the man quickly took to changing topics.

"Anyway! We have another wonderful hour planned for you all. Yes, something to hopefully add a bit of harmony to your lives!" He paused for effect and then coughed roughly into his hand. "Nurses, if you will escort any interested patients to our lovely Music Room, that would be swell."

The intercom clicked off, perhaps a little prematurely.

Harmony?

Somehow, that sounded very ominous.

Then he recalled that Rita had said it would be a Music Room shift. Just the thought of it gave him a near-paralyzing flashback to a time that had involved a lot of wine, and an attempt at singing by Thor, Fandral, and Volstagg.

Rita had also said that they could meet in the Sun Room, but it was best to be prepared since the staff seemed to regard the prisoners as if they were sheep and the nurses were dogs. As the hateful woman (really, was her face a mask? she had the same terrifying smile just fixed on her lips and he was almost certain it didn't even budge when she spoke) approached to collect him, Loki scrambled to one of the drawers of art supplies and extracted a few cotton balls, palming them.

A weak defense, yes, but better than nothing. As an alternative, possibly superior to a blood bath that involved using the strings of a lute as a garotte. Or improvising with whatever horrifying instruments Midgard had come up with in the last few centuries, which no doubt involved all sorts of things that went twang and tinkly little chimes that encouraged the common idiot to not so much sing outside of his proper range as sing way outside of his proper range.

Loki hastily pasted a smile on his face that seemed to eagerly insist no, he had not just been contemplating mass murder, goodness, he was too much of a nice young man for that sort of nasty thing. The nurse didn't notice one way or the other. With (feigned) meekness, he asked if perhaps he could please go to the Sun Room instead, as he was not particularly musical.

And pleasingly, it worked. The nurse smiled and began telling him something about her husband not being musical, and choir practice, and yes wasn't it lovely, and... they actually reached the Sun Room before the gripping conclusion had been reached, but he stood and listened politely anyway, making vague noises at all the appropriate pauses in the conversation. She said a few more words in the sort of final tone that indicated she was done speaking, and he laughed for her, gave her an extra little smile, and made his escape.

Pretending to be a nice young man was much less fun when it came without the power to have someone flogged.

Loki walked to bulletin board and waited near it, keeping an eye out for Rita. Or at least someone that matched her description.

[Rita!]

It wasn't often that Renji felt less like punching people in general as his day wore on. This was a new experience for him. A not unwelcome one, if he was being honest. And the fact that he felt less like punching Fai? Kind of mind-blowing. The sort of thing Zen masters would probably use as a kouan to reach an all-new level of non-punching enlightenment.

So he was back from the dead, almost everyone he'd known was gone, and yet bizarrely his day felt like it was looking up. Kind of. Renji wasn't sure what to make of this. Maybe his grumpy meter was just nearing empty. That was as good an explanation as the next, considering how this place made him feel.

Whatever the reason, he ended up in the music room. And he remembered oh yeah. He'd always kind of hated this damn shift. He grabbed a little book of music and a drum and retreated quickly to the far end of the room. He put the drum down in front of him just so he looked like he was doing something and opened the book. But he had no idea how to read music, and really, he was more interested in the ongoing puzzle of what the hell had happened in the last four weeks.

And brooding. Of course. There was always brooding to be done.

[Okay Tolten, let me lay it out for you. When there's a mommy and a daddy... or sometimes a daddy and a dadddy. Or, hell, sometimes a mommy and a mommy if you buy the right kind of wood cuts (and a third mommy if you go to just the right shop)... but anyway when they love each other very much, or at least a suitably large amount of money changes hands, there are some things that happen...]