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Scar continued through to the easternmost end of the hallway, finally reaching the door to the medical wing. Grumbling at the damn thing being locked, the Ishbalan bashed it a few times with his flashlight until it broke, and he pushed open the door somewhat cautiously.

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Looking around, Scar wasn't quite sure what to expect upon this returning visit to the medical wing. It was silent, for now. Scar shined his light around each corner as he moved silently through the room, ready for something to jump out at him at any moment. He wasn't sure of what to expect, but he held his scalpel at the ready with his free hand. It was feeble protection at best, but Scar was a sitting duck without his alchemic arm.

He still wasn't sure if he would actually want it back, though.

So there was a cure, and the place to search was the Medical Wing... Maybe Rita's previous hypothesis wasn't far off.

While she would have liked to investigate that, however, Rita had other plans. First was to find Taura and get herself healed - if only partially. At least this would be a chance to test the limits of the healing stone's power.

After that, it was a trip to the library with some weird old man. Rita wasn't sure how she kept ending up in such bizarre partnerships, but whatever. At least she could try inquiring more about his magic while they worked together.

With one shoulder out of commission, her backpack was going to be too much trouble to carry. Rita was going to have to leave it behind and be selective about what she brought with her. Her sword whip was wrapped around her waist with the blades hooked together to hold it in place, and one heraldry talisman was tucked into her pocket. Her free hand held her flashlight. That was about the best she could do, so when that was done, Rita made her way out into the hallway.

[to here]

It wasn't as though Tolten could ignore the (no longer just) implications. But regardless, there was work to be done. And while he felt miserable, he was certainly still very much himself now that night had fallen.

He was not about to allow this place to break him. He knew he was a rather soft and sometimes timid thing, given to strange fits of emotion and often questioning himself. But he also knew he was the last son of Uhra, blood of the ancient golden knights, containing all the strength of of his holy ancestors. He bent and bent but he would not break.

Fueled more by anger than anything else, the young king took up his pipe - he would give it to Locke, as he'd have a sword now - and headed into the hallway.

He didn't allow himself to consider the possibility of Locke not meeting with him tonight. The other man had never failed before, he certainly wouldn't now. And they would go to the Medical Wing and try and decipher the only clue they'd been given.

Failure was simply not an option.

[to here]

[In M39.]

As it turned out, Kobayashi hadn't been very interested in talking during this particular dinner. Castiel didn't know if that was because the man was struggling with his own problems or if he had simply been here long enough that he wasn't bursting with questions that needed answers, but with how he was feeling, Castiel had been relieved to have some peace and quiet, even if it was short-lived.

He forced himself to eat a decent amount of the steak, and the fact that his vessel was so open to it made it much easier to get down. After he'd done that, he went to lay on the bed, trying to get as much rest as possible before he'd have to force his body up and out into the halls.

If Kratos didn't show, would that still be his plan? He wasn't certain on that until the intercom came on and he learned a number of things. Firstly, that someone would supposedly be turning into a monster tonight. "At least one," Landel said, which left room for more. If he was in that number, then it was possible Kobayashi might be in danger, depending on how fast the effects kicked in.

It was beyond his comprehension to think he could go from being himself to something that wanted only to kill in the matter of a few minutes, but Castiel wasn't about to underestimate this place now. What he learned next, however, through what seemed to be Harrington's doing, was that there was supposedly a cure. That was enough to get Castiel moving, off of his bed and gathering his things. Even if Kratos didn't show himself, he would be heading to the medical wing tonight. There was no question of that now.

Harrington really had come through in the end. Castiel had to admit that he was surprised. It didn't take him long to grab his blade, flashlight, and radio, which meant that once Kobayashi left, all he could really do was sit on his hands. That wasn't easy for someone like him to do, but he had to at least give Kratos a short window in which to come collect him.

[from here]

hall·way [ˈhɔːlˌweɪ] n. 1. A passage or corridor in a building. 2. An entry foyer or lobby; a vestibule. 3. Really fucking boring.

[to here]

Showtime. Two parties, one full of alcohol running the gamut from horse-piss to cleaning fluid, plus at least one woman, and one with a walking skeleton, sensory deprivation, and possible death. Together they were the beginnings of a beautiful music video. Unfortunately, Sangamon could only make one of them.

Harvey and Scott would appreciate the sacrifice. He grabbed two six-packs of shitty homemade beer by their polyethylene nooses, and headed out.

[to here]