Mello tried to absorb every detail of his surroundings as the orderly carted him to the cafeteria, but nothing in his mind seemed to connect. It was an unpleasant, infuriating feeling...he'd anticipated the possibility of being disarmed, but not like this.

He barely noted the mass of faces as he was led into the large room, and he held one hand against his head as he half-sat, half-collapsed into the chair that seemed to appear before him. Eating was the furthest thing from his mind, and although a vague nausea attached itself to every thought, he forced himself to keep thinking. No stupid sedative was going to get between him and the answers. He barely noticed the plate that was thrust before him, but his body, seemingly detached from his awareness, started to pick at the chips of a chocolate chip muffin and he licked his fingers without thought.