Day 37: Breakfast

[scarletspeedstr.livejournal.com]

[for Sylar, I believe]

At the sound of the intercom, Wally jerked awake and blinked around at the room. He’d fallen asleep. He should have been up and keeping an eye open for ZEX, but he’d fallen asleep waiting on his bed.

“Idiot,” he groaned, ruffling his hair and sighing in annoyance. “Way to help a guy out, hotshot.” Hopefully ZEX hadn’t dropped by and thought he’d left or something, or wouldn’t be too mad at him for just forgetting about it like that. If he was lucky, he’d be able to catch up with the other patient at some point and explain what had happened.

Rolling himself a little awkwardly out of the bed, Wally took the opportunity to stretch his injured leg and test how well it was holding up. It was feeling a bit better, not so much that he could abandon his crutch or that it didn’t pull painfully if he wasn’t careful, but better. Tony had apparently made it through the night in one piece as well, which was a relief. He really didn’t feel comfortable about the thought of his roommate wandering about on his own with an injured arm. Not when Wally himself could relax and fall asleep in the apparent safety of their room.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to let himself forget that one in a hurry.

It was at that moment that the door swung open to admit one of the nurses. She seemed surprised to find him awake and ready to go already, but smiled warmly. “Hungry, are we Mr. West? Well in that case, let’s get you to the cafeteria. The staff have provided some delicious French Toast as well as a range of other foods I’m sure you’ll like. Now will you be needing a hand with your leg, dear?”

“No thanks, I can handle it,” Wally replied, smiling back. After all, it probably wasn’t the nurses’ fault that this place was so messed up, so it wasn’t like picking fights with them would do anything. With a cheery wave goodbye, Wally slowly made his way to the cafeteria, keeping a tight grip on his crutch all the while. Obtaining a plate of food was only slightly less difficult than it had been yesterday – he didn’t have the painkillers to work around this time – but he managed well enough, coming away from the buffet with a tray containing a plate piled high with slices of French Toast and slathered in maple syrup, butter, and sugar, as well as a glass of juice. Not quite as good as some coffee would be right now, but the sugar would hopefully make up for it. And, with how few people were here at the moment, he could afford to take more food than might have been considered ‘normal’ – he’d have most of it gone by the time anyone came to keep him company, then he could just worry about how many extra serves would be allowed before he aroused suspicion.

Feeling pretty happy with how things were looking so far, Wally hummed faintly to himself as he dug in to his breakfast.

Comments

[el-lolly-eat.livejournal.com]

With a response like that, this man certainly hadn’t been around very long. “I take it you are one of the new arrivals, then? Unfortunately there is no name mix-up, and there is certainly enough going on in this establishment to warrant revolt among the patients.” He popped a bite of food into his mouth and chewed for a moment, savoring the sweet taste in his mouth.

“Typically, in order to be in a place like this without the option of signing yourself out at the end of the standard three day observation period, a court has to designate an individual a danger to either themselves or society. But no one here ever remembers a hearing or the circumstances in which they were committed.” L said after swallowing his food and preparing another bite for himself, “When new arrivals are brought in, if they are fortunate enough to first wake up during the day, are greeted by a nurse who will address them with a name they have never heard before. This is the name the institute has assigned to you, and you will find it on all of your files and records.

“The files and records all essentially cover a past you are familiar with, though there have been changes made to better suit the institutes case. That is only a minor issue, however. Things appear to be tame right now, but this institute tends to show a much different face come nightfall. You’ll likely find some useful information on the bulletin board about it.

“In short, the doors unlock at night allowing the patients to travel freely, but there are plenty of unpleasant creatures roaming out there as well, many of which are predators. I would not recommend traveling alone.” He took another bite of his food, then and licked the syrup off of his fork. Whether the man chose to believe him or not at this point, didn’t matter. Sometimes people needed to learn through experience.

[chocomancer.livejournal.com]

Wonka listened, transfixed, as the man across from him began to explain the situation here, mouth slowly hanging more and more open, and sticking there for a few seconds after the exposition had ceased. Then, all of a sudden, as though a bomb had gone off inside him, the candymaker leaped straight up in the air, and started yelling and gesticulating wildly, the import of the speech finally hitting him.

"Great galloping grunchers, this is a disaster! I've got places to go! Things to do! People to see! I can't be dodging wanga-beasts and weaving baskets! But," he continued, beginning to slow down and pacing to and fro near the table, "with this place not letting people simply leave - and how would I have gotten committed out of the White House and not that Army fellow, I'd like to know..." By this time, Wonka had stopped completely, and was standing still as a statue, hand to his lips, staring off to the side in thought. Then, ever so slowly, a twinkle appeared in his eye, and quick as a flash he was seated again, leaning over to his breakfast companion and asking, in a low, sly voice, "I don't suppose anyone's managed to escape, have they?"

[el-lolly-eat.livejournal.com]

L could easily expect a number of reactions given the situation; Anger, denial, or in this case shock. But any of that coupled with the phrase ‘great galloping grunchers’ was a bit surprising... so much so that the detective allowed himself to blink. This wasn’t quite the phrase he heard everyday. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard it, if ever.

Still, he remained relaxed during the man’s flailing display, and watched him studiously as he took a sip of his juice. The words ‘White House’ and ‘Army’ were definitely some interesting key phrases he had used, but were probably of little use to him. And the term ‘Wanga beasts’ admittedly seemed just as odd as the word 'grunchers' he hand mentioned earlier. It was starting to look as though this man had developed his own personal slang.

Thankfully, the the other patient settled down before he could draw too much attention to them, and L calmly answered the question he asked, “There is no knowledge of anyone ever escaping the institute. There have been deaths, and there have been unexplained patient disappearances, but I have never heard of anyone getting very far outside of the walls, or back to the world where they were taken from.”

L leaned in so that he was nearly nose to nose with the strange fellow seated across from him, and speaking in an equally low tone of voice he said, “But there are plenty of efforts being made to escape. If you have plans, I wish you luck on them.” What else could he say? Until L was able to determine the degree of knowledge the doctors possessed, any talk of plans could put them in jeopardy.

[chocomancer.livejournal.com]

Wonka considered the injured man's assessment, adding it to his own sudden ideas about possible escape. One thing in particular stood out: the mention of patients being from a different "world" than this. Had the people running this place really located it off in space somewhere, escape would be more complicated. Not impossible, never impossible. Just a little more involved, that's all.

Then again, the term was so vague that he'd have to have some clarification before continuing. He responded to the man's last words first, with a wink and a nod. "I might have plans, I might. But then again," he continued, backing off a little bit so that he could put his hand to his face without hitting his breakfast partner in the chin, "it really depends on what you meant by 'world'. Is it other planets, or something more like..." The word "Minusland" came unbidded to his mind, but he shook it off; it was unlikely the man knew about that place anyway. "...er, something else? Either way, I have some past work that might be helpful. But I'd need access to a kitchen, preferrably with a good stock of appliances and supplies. Can't make decent candy without decent tools, you know!"

Wonka returned to thinking for a moment, eyes drawn to the breakfast buffet table at the north end of the Cafeteria. Then, suddenly noticing the door, he asked no-one in particular, "Do they cook the meals here, I wonder, or have them catered? Any kitchen large enough to serve a hundred people should have most of the basics..."

[el-lolly-eat.livejournal.com]

“We are not entirely sure. The knowledge seemed to have come about when patients started recognizing others as characters in various media they were familiar with.” L shifted his position in his chair, resting his hand on the one leg that was up on the seat while the other picked up the fork again and prodded at his meal. The idea of being a fictional character didn’t bother him too much. He couldn’t let it. There was nothing he could do about the matter but keep an eye out for those who knew of him and make sure that anything they knew was not used against him.

“There is a kitchen, but unless you can fight or know someone that can, it is difficult to access during the night. It is one of the many places that are only accessible through the sunroom, which is where the head doctor tends to station his strongest.” L would have certainly taken advantage of the area if he had the chance. “There is also a smaller kitchen on the upper floor for staff use, though it is doubtful that they are as well stocked. Another problem you’ll find is that there is no power during the night so you’ll have to find a way to make things without a reliable or strong source of electricity.”

From the way he said it, the candy he was talking about seemed like a metaphor for something else. Knowing what L knew of the institute, he could be able to direct the man to the supplies he needed. “Exactly what sort of candy are you planning to make?”

[chocomancer.livejournal.com]

And that was a possibility that Wonka had not even begun to consider. This institution could commit subjects from whole other realities, other timelines? Immediately the wheels in the candymaker's head began to turn, trying to figure out exactly what could allow for such a thing. He'd already done something to get the Great Glass Elevator to go to Minusland (he still wasn't entirely sure what he had done or why it worked) but if there were more places like that that didn't even exist physically... oh, the possibilities once he was able to find out what these other worlds had in terms of materials!

Of course, the first step would be to figure out how they did the transferring in the first place, and get out of here that way (or just tinker around until something either worked or exploded). Which brought him back to the whole getting a decent kitchen issue. As the other man explained the situation, Wonka began to count off a list of what he'd probably need, given the situation. Electricity (or gas if they were gas stoves), protection, possible replacements or substitutes for his usual pantry of exotic goods...

The candymaker was snapped out of this internal dialog by the first question launched by his breakfast partner for some time. "Hmm? Oh, yes, the candy. Well, it really depends on what I'm able to come up with, given the limited resources you just mentioned. But I had been thinking of basing something on my recipe for invisible chocolate." There was no need to keep that product a secret; it was about to go to market anyway. "The usual formula only covers the bar - splendid for sneaking snacks during class, so I'm told - " he added, giggling, "but with a little modification to the recipe, well..." He let the sentence trail off. Best to maintain at least a little mystery, and even if this fellow was trustworthy, he didn't want to get his hopes up on a project should it turn out to be untenable.