damned_institute | Day 21: Lunch

Hikaru and Kaoru had been so caught up in their little game that they initially hadn't heard the intercom go off. The new "ding" system was far less jarring than the old SCREECH, and as such, wasn't as easily heard, even in a place as quiet as the library. All too soon, the nurses came to separate the twins and take them to the next activity--lunch.

It only felt like a few minutes since breakfast, somehow, and yet Hikaru was starved. The lunch selection was ridiculously Americanized food of the "Pan Asian" genre, as bad as when his family had wanted Japanese food in California and had gone to the "nicest" restaurant in the English language guidebook. He cringed visibly when the surly cafeteria worker poured sauce on his rice--which was supposed to be plain--but...food was food, and he wasn't feeling terribly picky right now. At least it smelled all right.

One of the good things about being the first one into the cafeteria was having his pick of the tables. Hikaru chose one of the larger ones, saving seats for Kaoru, Tamaki, and (in a fit of hopefulness) Haruhi.

He hoped they'd come soon. He hated being alone.

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Robin had been looking for a woman with long blond hair. He wasn't having much luck, sadly. He considered sitting with his new ally, Tamaki, but something else caught his attention.

He leaned in and looked at the man's biscuit thing.
"They hide messages in the food?" he asked. His expression rarely seemed to be anything but it's blend of amusement and surprise today.

Snake glanced up to register the newcomer - redhead, freckled, almost vulpine features - and found him scanning him for weapons before he could remind himself that the other patients were probably not threats.

You're probably as confused as I am.

"Not meaningful ones," he shrugged, sliding the strip of paper across the table towards the other man. "It wasn't as if I was expecting the Head Doctor's name and address written out on it, but it makes me wonder what they're thinking."

He forced himself to relax a little, leaning back into the chair, closing his eyes so he couldn't assess this threat-that-wasn't.

"Can you give me a name?" he asked.

There was the habit-change of a lifetime.

Robin sat down, smiling.
"From what I've heard that wouldn't help much unless he lived in the building. You know a way to get out of here, friend?"

Robin was almost surprised at how calm he was. This was such a strange situation. His life wasn't in immediate danger and so he had little reason to really panic. But... nothing made sense. However, when nothing makes sense, not much help will come from fighting it. But still, pointless messages in food? That was weird.

"A name?" he asked, chuckling some more. "I can give you my real name, but you might not believe me. Or I can give you the name the Nurses call me by, but... I don't believe that."

Another thing he didn't see the point in fighting anymore: his existence. According to other people, anyway. He wasn't fictional. Perhaps history just got a little confused along the way. It HAD been around 1000 years since his time.

"I'm Robin Hood. You?"

His eyes wandered to his own little biscuit in the strange, shiny covering. He wondered what it said, but it might be rude to break it open halfway through a conversation.

Robin Hood? Snake fought a smile. Well, he had heard some odd names announced over the Intercom.

He tried to remember what Mei Ling had taught him about Robin Hood in one of her usual rambles. Robin Hood, the Robinhode, an outlaw, supposedly noble and legendary but at the same time brutal and wild - good aim, intelligent, romantic, supposedly a title given to a long line of outlaws. Mei Ling had shown him too many photographs of her visit to Sherwood Forest, her standing in front of a tree that was supposedly over a thousand years old and supposedly the one Robin Hood and his Merry Men would call meetings around - it was so old its branches were on canes and its back was hunched and most of its skin had wrinkled away, scarred with weather and lightning.

He'd particularly approved of the tree for some reason. It'd had character.

"I'm a legend, too," he introduced himself, "but one less romantic. Believe me." He scraped back his hair - damn, he needed to find a bandanna, or else cut all his hair off. "Then again, you don't need to trust me. I'm a Snake. I could be here to tempt you."

He nodded at him. "Go ahead, break it open. I'm curious to see what it has to say."

Robin looked at the man for a moment, as if trying to read his thoughts. He was a little suspicious. "A snake you say? I knew a snake back home. Sir Hiss. Fell in with the wrong crowd, you know. Bit of a follower."

He leaned forwards, resting on his arms.
"Are you really a snake? What do I call you?"

He looked at the little packet and tore it open, breaking the biscuit it two. He cleared his throat and read out loud, "You will make a new friend." He looked up at his companion. Was this to be true?

"At least yours is positive," Snake said, smiling. "And a lot more candid than usual." He ate another forkful of noodles, before continuing. "It wouldn't surprise me if they've been choosing who gets whatever message, but I don't see the purpose in it. Perhaps I'm just being paranoid."

He registered Robin's hopeful look, and tilted his head. "I don't make a lot of friends with a personality like mine. There's only one friend here with me, Fox, and he's over there -" he pointed towards the tall, silver-haired man in the corner - "- talking with his new little sister or whatever she is. He'd planned to meet up with her last night, but she'd vanished. I thought it might be best to leave them alone."

This, of course, was the sort of thing Fox tended to do - get randomly, moonishly attached to someone else, tail them for a week, and then end up separated from them with nothing but bitterness and complaints. He wasn't jealous at all. Just paranoid again.

"I'm a real Snake, alright," he said, "or as real as I can be without shedding my skin. The name's Solid Snake, but they're calling me Hans Davis here, and that's as good a name as any. Names are meaningless, anyway. They just obscure reality. After all," he added, "who needs words at all when you can see what's in front of you?"

Day 21: Lunch

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