damned_institute | Day 36: Waiting Room/Lobby 2

Okita hadn't been expecting it when his nurse suddenly appeared in the Game Room. He'd expected to be left alone like last week, but instead she gently took him by the arm and told him he needed to say goodbye to Kaden for now. Okita assumed it was time for his visitor and waved goodbye to him, only to be led off himself. The swordsman had followed obediently into the Sun Room, but when he tried to go off to another room, she stopped him. "Not today, Julian."

Not today? Something about his nurse's demeanor seemed off, almost as if she were worried about something. It wasn't until she led him out of the Sun Room that he understood what was going on. He had a visitor. There were only so many people that would come to visit him in a place like this. His sisters, Tetsu, Kondou or... Okita didn't want to think about the last option.

Taking a step into the waiting room, he stopped at the door and turned to look at his nurse. "Are you sure you're not mistaken?" he asked, feeling actual fear for the first time in a long while. If this wasn't some strange punishment/joke for behaving poorly in the chapel, he didn't know what to do. Badou's graffiti was still on his hand and he quickly slipped that hand into his pocket. He could feel the pen there, clipped to the inside of his waistband. The nurse shook her head and moved to the side of the room, keeping a close watch on him as he stayed by the door, trying to hide his anxiety by feigning interest in the strange magazines on a table nearby.

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David and Valerie Mitchell... The similarities in the names could not have been a coincidence. Which meant someone knew. Not Wright, no. Aside from the time issue, the man was trapped in the same hellhole as the rest of them. Though Klavier related the story, he didn't think his brother was the originator. He wouldn't be so lucky to pull this on his own.

"Enough," Kristoph interjected. It was at this time he'd realized he had yet to have a name for this visitor. "You said an arrest was made, Brother. May I ask who was in charge of the investigation team?" He paused, knowing his chance of being correct in his next words was about half. "Was it you?"

"If you don't remember, I suppose there's no sense in hiding it from you. The police needed a fresh set of eyes, and they needed someone with contacts. The Fraulein Detective that always gives me such a hard time was reluctant to ask me, but she eventually did. She didn't even throw anything at me, which is how I knew things were serious."

Konrad looked him in the eyes. "I agreed." There wasn't an apology in the statement - if their positions had been reversed, Bruno would have done the same.

It was him. Better than the alternative, but still... Kristoph would be a liar if he said he didn't feel betrayed in some manner. "How nice," he responded blandly, once again fiddling to keep his glasses up. "Then I broke down and confessed, enough to win an insanity plea."

"Was that all? Have I missed anything?" Kristoph continued. "Oh, that's right. I suppose since you've seen me at my worst, this question should hardly come as a surprise." He eyed his brother, the glint of his glasses resulting in veiled eyes. A fortunate thing for both Gavins: Kristoph would hate to make Klavier think he held any venom against his own blood. Visually, anyway.

"What is your name? I certainly don't recall you in my memories." Keep them guessing-- Keep them satisfied in their own answers. That was all the man could do at the moment.

"Ja. I couldn't bring myself to watch the confession, but you did." The look in his eyes wasn't apologetic - but it wasn't happy, either. The truth had needed to come out, but that didn't mean the process had been pleasant. Far from it.

"The case never went to trial, as I've explained already. I had to lean on all of my contacts to make that happen, but it was the least I could do."

It was all he could do after that question not to react with anger, but he choked back the urge, instead figuring he could jog the memory a different way. He took a small bottle of expensive clear nail polish out of his pocket, tossing it in the air and catching it a few times.

"I cancel band practice - to a lot of protests in the key of 'dammit, Konrad' - come all this way with this, and you say you don't remember me? Pity. I suppose I'll have to hand it over to one of the nurses."

"How magnanimous of you." Hadn't he known? If this Bruno had went to trial (provided he and Kristoph were one and the same), this special "privilege" need not have occurred. Or was that the true reason? "Why not prison? Why not the death penalty? I'm a grown, fully-capable adult; isn't it only fair I serve my full due as opposed to living on my younger brother's goodwill?"

Klavier--or Konrad, rather--certainly jogged something when he pulled out that bottle. Ariadoney. The symbol of his control being handled so unfavorably in the young man's hands. The older brother's eyes literally glinted at the object, whether with desire or fury, one could not tell.

"I would prefer," Kristoph began, his voice low, "the bottle to be in my hands."

Konrad bristled at that comment, the sound of the nail polish bottle falling into his palm one last time seeming to echo despite the ambient noise in the room. "You know perfectly well why I made the choice I did, but I might as well remind you of those reasons. First, you were actively suicidal. The police confiscated the poisons they could find, but no one knew whether or not you had something else up your sleeve.

Second, juries do not take well to insanity pleas. The Prosecutors' Office has been almost desperate for a test case for the Jurist System, and they would have taken yours. You would have had me risk a jury trial, Bruno? I think not."

He didn't think he would need to explain the third reason. That ought to have been obvious. He hadn't wanted to be the one responsible for sending his brother to a certain death. No amount of shock could erase that fact.

The final reason was something that also defied explanation. There was a certain amount of blind hope in the decision to not pursue a trial. Sending his brother to prison would have meant giving up on the idea that with the right kind of help, he could turn things around, and not want to hurt other people anymore. It was a sentimental reason, but no less valid because of that.

The strain of telling the story had made him forget the bottle of nail polish in his hand, until that last statement. He held it out to Bruno, without commenting on the tone of his voice or the look in his eyes.

Blue eyes followed the bottle almost hypnotically, words of suicides and poisons passing through to the man's mental back burner. Why even entertain the subject? He wasn't the brother Konrad believed him to be, not while he existed in this place. Suicidal? Kristoph had his pride even in captivity. There was no need to resort to death, particularly one so overdone and needlessly melodramatic.

He, however, had to pause at the second reason (the third hadn't even graced surface thoughts), his right hand hovering over the bottle in his brother's hand. "Jurist System?" Kristoph repeated, his expression and voice a perfect example of surprise.

"...I know you know about the Jurist System. You even called an all-staff meeting to discuss it." There was a slight touch of exasperation in his voice. "I suppose I can explain it, though."

Konrad sighed, settling back into his chair. "It's simple enough. Instead of the judge simply declaring a verdict, six jurors watch the trial over closed-circuit television. They have access to all of the evidence and can replay testimony as needed. When all the evidence has been presented, the judge turn the final decision over to the jury panel. It's a challenge for both sides - who can capture the hearts of the jury?"

Day 36: Waiting Room/Lobby 2

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