The intercom's chime ushered in an unusually high amount of noise this morning. Between the enthusiastic hammering and the shrill scream of an electric saw, one had to wonder exactly what the Head Doctor was planning. And how he managed to speak audibly over it all.

"I told you: that chair is a precious commodity! Let me remind you, gentlemen, that I will not be paying for any of this if you misalign even one wheel on that--"

There was an abrupt pause, as if the Head Doctor had realized one very important, very forgotten facet. A wave of shushing and screaming for quiet then followed, before everything eventually settled into a state of zen.

One could almost hear the nerves in the Head Doctor's chuckle. "H-Hello, everyone! I apologize for the clamor; you've caught me overseeing some renovations. Hopefully that extra omph to the budget will really spruce this place up, haha..."

Another pause.

"A-Anyway, nurses, if you could kindly escort our men to the Recreational Field and our women to the Greenhouse, that would be wonderful. Please also ensure that our select patients meet with their doctors today. Thank you!"

The intercom clicked off.

Loki wasn't entirely thrilled about returning to the recreation field, though he supposed it would be nicer during the day. And without the annoying presence of Riku. Some fresh air would likely do him good; that was what Sif and Thor had always claimed right before they dragged him out of the library.

He wasn't entirely certain if that was a pleasant thought or not. It was still far too mixed up and painful.

He was allowed to go back to his room and pull out every bit of warm clothing he had, bundling up as much as he could. As he followed the nurse out into the field, he also wondered if this meant he would miss out on the greenhouse, since he'd arranged to meet Soma after lunch. That had priority, of course, but he did find plants interesting. At least it was good to know there were activities they were forced to participate in during the day that weren't as horrifically painful as, say, what the music room would indicate.

Good to know that as prisons went, it wasn't all just torture, torture, torture. Some variation was good for the mind.

He wandered along the crunchy, dead grass, for now steering clear of the few other patients. The air felt much better during the day, smelled much better to him as well as he sniffed at it. even if it was cold enough to make his nose hurt. It reminded him uncomfortably of Jotunheim, and...

But at least here, there was sunlight. He wasn't trapped in that dark place as sometimes was in his nightmares.

Loki stopped about halfway down the field, tilting his head back to take in the thin sunlight, his eyes slipping shut.

[Here, angel angel angel... :D Castiel!]

_{[free if anybody wants her, but otherwise she'll just be chillin' on her own.]}

The reward system that had come along with the military’s occupation was a lot like school: get your good grades and you’d be rewarded for your work. Some of Yomi’s childhood had been like that, with her cooped up with study books, expressing concern over some upcoming exam, and Naraku (father) laughingly promising her a special dinner once she conquered her tests.

So simple, but still effective. Landel didn’t seem keen to do away with the pins himself, choosing instead to use stickers with rewards attached. It encouraged prisoners to seek out more and increase their number of privileges. To fight just a little harder, face the nightly challenges with just a little more ambition. Yomi was still waiting to know why their involvement was of such great importance, but since that explanation was likely a long time in coming, she had to be content with the bonuses her three stickers provided her. They weren’t much for someone like Yomi, of course. Nonetheless, they were hers to do with what she wanted, and what she wanted was to ascertain every limit and potential this place had. Naturally the answer was to start taking advantage of her status.

As a result, second shift found Yomi climbing the stairs to the staff exercise area. Not as exciting as being chosen for therapy, maybe, but it was better than poking around flowers in the greenhouse. And it afforded her a chance to see what went on up there, though granted, it was harder to keep her observation discreet when she was being so closely watched by her babysitters. What were they afraid of, that she was going to make a suicide run at the balcony?

After a few moments of examining herself in a mirror, Yomi set up a treadmill so as to preserve the guise that she actually wanted to exercise.

Everything seemed to be in order as Wilson walked into the front doors of Landel's Institute this Thursday morning. He could still barely believe that the entire doctor staff had been allowed such a long break, but apparently that inspection had required that some changes be made around this place. Honestly, Wilson didn't notice much that was different, except that the Head Doctor was apparently having some renovations done on his office.

He couldn't quite kick the feeling that he was forgetting something vital, but in the end he was just relieved that he'd finally gotten a hold of Cuddy over the break. For some reason she still felt that he should be spending his time here. House hadn't connected well with the patients here (which Wilson thought should have been obvious from the start), but Wilson had actually made progress with a few people. Max Vyer, for instance.

Wilson still felt that he would be better equipped dealing with cancer patients, but the pay here was good and all things considered, he didn't have to work that much. If anything, he could see this as a few months in which he could rest up.

Now that he was finally being let back into his office, though, he was determined to keep up what was apparently being viewed as good work. He sat down with the file of his first patient, Vincent Lant. He was supposed to have seen this patient the last time he was here, only to find out that he'd been suddenly discharged. That had apparently been a premature decision, since he'd been re-admitted.

Just a quick glance over the file informed him of the patient's troubled childhood along with his anger and jealousy issues as an adult. He doubted this would be an easy case, but he was just going to have to improvise and do his best.

Even if he hadn't eaten much, the time to himself had helped improve Barnaby's overall state of mind. Despite the grueling insomnia that had plagued him before his arrival, he felt remarkably well rested now. Maybe he didn't agree with all of this Landel's Institute's methods, but there was no denying that he was much more stable than before.

Of course, he hadn't managed to shake the knot of unease tightening in the pit of his stomach, nor the restlessness that seized him when he thought of all of the recent revelations concerning Ouroboros, as well as his own recollections of that Christmas Eve nearly 21 years ago. Ill or not, he didn't have time to sit in a hospital right now. He needed to talk to Mr. Maverick.

Studying his bare wrist, Barnaby inwardly sighed as he stepped out of the cafeteria. Though his knee-jerk reaction earlier this morning had been to assume that someone from Apollon would get in touch with him shortly, he realized that he may not be in any state to continue with his hero work. The fact that the doctors had deemed it necessary to confiscate his PDA said more than anyone here was willing to tell him to his face.

That didn't mean they had a right to take his cell phone, though. Unfortunately, when he asked about it, his nurse thought otherwise.

"Like I said, Mr. Banks, this program doesn't allow for outside contact with friends and family except under specific circumstances," she reminded him.

"Brooks," he flatly stated.

The nurse blinked. "Excuse me?"

"My name isn't Banks," he corrected her. "It's Brooks -- Barnaby Brooks Jr." The nurse glanced down at her clipboard and nodded in understanding.

"Of course it is, dear," she said in a tone that conveyed that she was just humoring him. Barnaby's fingers curled into a fist at his side, but otherwise his face remained remarkably composed.

"I understand if you feel the need to downplay my presence due to my occupation," he spoke in slow, measured words, "but you'll have to excuse me if I find your methods extreme and, quite frankly, unnecessary." Combined with the Head Doctor's poor excuse for an announcement a few moments ago, their conversation just made Barnaby conclude that this facility was being run a bunch of incompetent morons. Barnaby had no intention of causing a scene, but he wasn't going to just roll over and let the staff treat him like a child, either.

"That said, I'd like to look at the paperwork that was signed the day I was committed here," he stated, his shoulders squared as he look his nurse right in the eye. "I should know what my rights are."

"I'm afraid I don't have the authority to do that."

"Then put me in touch with the person who does."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, either."

Frustration welled up inside Barnaby, and he took a small breath. He couldn't wait to get in touch with his attorney later. "Then what, exactly, can you do?"

The nurse smiled. "Take you to the recreational field, of course. The other male patients are there now. Wouldn't you like to make some friends?"

Barnaby folded his arms, his cool gaze falling onto a bulletin board located along the wall. "Actually, I'd rather stay in the sun room and read what's over there, if you don't mind." He didn't catch the flicker of disappointment on the nurse's face, though he wouldn't have cared much even if he had. As long as he wasn't hurting anyone or himself, they didn't have the authority to dictate how he spent every second of his time.

"We do allow patients to stay here during activity shifts, so I suppose you can do that," she said, albeit a bit reluctantly.

Barnaby nodded. "All right, then." With that, he made his way over to the bulletin and began to peruse through the notes. Perhaps he'd learn a little more about this place and how some of the other patients could even stand being here.

[For Renamon!]

Daedalus was a creature of habit. The day he was to be welcomed back for his sessions, he had arrived as early as possible and not strayed far from his office since. Acting as a doctor for Landel’s Institute was his job, after all, and he was accustomed to immersing himself in his work to the fullest, even if his employment was temporary and of little significance. The hospital was where he should have been, working as he had been directed to, not on a involuntary “vacation” where he had little to occupy himself with except the passage of time.

To say the young doctor was ready to return was an understatement. Being separated from his sphere of influence was… uncomfortable, no matter the reasons for it. That was not to say Daedalus had spent the week twiddling his thumbs ineffectually, per se, but he certainly had been bored.

And boredom was a curse for a person like him, who enjoyed his routines.

A review of his work wasn’t necessary to get up to speed, but Daedalus did it anyway, while he waited for the day’s meetings to begin. He wasn’t excited, not really… ‘eager’ also implied more emotion than Daedalus was willing to exhibit. But he was intent on the task at hand.

There were many things he wanted to know. More that he wanted to do.

Venkman felt like he was forgetting something.

Thankfully, he didn't care enough about what it was to let it bother him. Because for once, he was actually looking forward to work. The break had been okay for a while. Lot of loafing and drinking had gotten done. He had even managed to chat up a couple of girls here and there, phone numbers stashed safely in his jacket pocket. But that said, Doyleton was no New York. Venkman couldn't exactly have a night out on the town out there. And when neither of the girls called him back, boredom had started to sink in pretty quick, and sink in hard.

There were only so many times he could wander the same circuits through downtown Nowheresville, and so he'd stayed in after the first few nights. A couple times (during the particularly dire hours of TV) he got close to phoning Ray or Egon. Heck, even Dana crossed his mind once or twice. In the end, though, he decided against it. The old gang hadn't really talked in how long now? He wasn't about to break the radio silence now. And he was betting any attempt at phoning Dana would result in him saying "Hi" and her hanging up. Not exactly the greatest communication going on there.

At least working with the patients, a serious pain though that could be, would be something different. Hunk was up first, too. That was bound to make easing into the day go a little better. Venkman was already working through Oz quips in his head as he strolled into his office. Thank god for patients with quotable delusions, he thought, settling into the comfy chair behind his desk.

Ah, his first true day on the job. There had been quite the delay between the notice of his hiring and the date upon which he was meant to start (and it had been pushed back several times too...how strange), but he'd been able to spend it relatively productively, making sure all of his things arrived safely from London and getting a head start on settling in.

Of course, that hardly meant that he was feeling totally at ease right now. It still felt strange to think, that he, an archaeology professor by trade, was actually going to try his hand at professional therapy, but anything really was possible, he supposed. And he had always had an interest in psychology, as he did in seemingly everything else in the world.

Layton sighed as he settled back in his chair, pausing to adjust the position of the pen sitting on his desk. It was trivial, really, but for some reason, he felt like it had to be aligned just right. A gentleman always made the best first impression he could, after all. So he should really fix that...there. Just a little nudge with the side of his finger, and it was in its proper place. Or maybe it was out of sorts? If he looked at it from a certain angle, it did seem to be a tad crooked...

"Goodness, you are nervous," he muttered under his breath as he finally forced himself to look away from the pen and settle his hands, fingers firmly laced, on the top of the file in front of him. Take a deep breath, Hershel. A gentleman should always face challenges with dignity and grace.

“Oh... my sincerest apologies! And here I was thinking that I... was the therapist in the room. You know, the one who actually managed to make it through Med School rather than turn to nursing after finally realizing that Beauty School just could not do a thing for me.”

By the time therapy had rolled around, Doctor Cox had already seen fit to make his mark in the best way possible: by pissing off the staff. Or at least one elderly nurse. As he argued against the woman who'd just been brave enough to interrupt fourth and long, the whole hallway was treated to their... or mostly his choice words.

“Then again, with curls like these?" he raised a hand to pull at one of his many curls, "I think we both know which of us was... the drop out; but please, since you seem to know just how these things are supposed to work, do enlighten me. I would just love to hear your insight into analyzing the human psyche as I’m sure yours is frequented by Frankie Avalon and his co-oun-tless serenades over your poor life decisions.”

“Why I never...!”

“Never, no not eh-heeee-ver, I’m sure,” Perry interrupted before he could be forced to hear an angry woman bitch and moan about how life wasn’t fair. He didn’t care, and he really didn’t care right then since the game was on and he was missing it. Worse was when he happened to notice another nurse looking in through his doorway, toting what had to be the first of his patients. This was not his day. “Look Frenchy, I don’t like my job anymore than you apparently like flatirons; but you know, I still tolerate both it and... flatirons, so instead of going all huffypuffy on me, why don’tcha just let the poor nut in and, oh I dunno,” he shrugged his shoulders, “hit up the salon for the next hour and get that perm deflated, cuz here's a little secret: a blind man could tell those were fake from a mile away. Oh, could he ever.”

Now at a loss for words, it was all the nurse could do to force herself to turn and go. She was so flustered that she barely noticed the patient or his accompanying nurse as she stormed past. The other nurse looked first at the leaving nurse, then into the room and finally back down the hallway before she quickly got the patient in and closed the door to follow after her.

A grin spread for his apparent victory as he watched the door close. He then pretended to ignore the patient's very existence as he turned his back to the man and settled into lounging on the couch. Just as he raised the remote to click the screen back to life, he spoke up for the man to hear. "Now, before you ask? I'm not actually a fan of Grease or of the sequel it somehow managed, but my formerly pregnant, former wife was just hormonal enough to find both the original and said sequel to be just the right mix of both a craving... and torture for me, so much so that I've been unable to stop humming Grease Lightning when nearing my car."

Now that one type of business had been more or less taken care of (for the moment), it was time for Rita to move on to her other business: magic research. She'd been so involved in her conversation with Taura that there hadn't been time to write down her latest discoveries. And besides that, she had an appointment.

Rita brought her notebook and a pen with her to the Greenhouse, where she quickly found a space to sit that was relatively near a few rows of flowers. The scent would at least make for some decent atmosphere, though she was a little concerned about how the humid air might affect her notebook pages.

The person she was meeting was apparently a blonde named Rapunzel. Since she hadn't arrived yet, Rita took the time to open her journal and start adding the information about Espers and related concepts she acquired the previous night. It was best to get that done while it was still fresh in her mind.

[Rapunzel!]