damned_institute | Nightshift 38: M1- M10 Hallway

Dean had taken a nap after dinner, figuring that he might as well grab whatever rest he could before he took off trying to find supplies for a full-blown exorcism. His sleep was fitful, the hunter tossing and turning in the bed, eventually settling for sprawling face down in it with his arms flung around his pillow. When he woke up, Angel was gone. Dean rolled over to sit up, jaw set as he rubbed the sleep from one bleary eye, still breathing heavily. Cold Oak. Fucking Cold Oak. That was over and done with, yet he was still having nightmares about the goddamned place, as if enough wasn't enough that all of that was far behind him now. Reaching up, Dean took in a slightly shaking breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he told himself he wasn't gonna keep waking up in cold sweats feeling Sam's blood all over him, and, if he was, he would deal with it 'cause it was just a bunch of dreams. Wasn't real anymore. He'd saved Sammy.

When he stood up, he was ready to get on with the night. He'd find his little brother, no matter what, even if he had to get his information from that demon Punk-Ass and not by asking nicely.

Dean was even looking forward to it now.

Heading over to the closet, Dean opened it. His clothes hung there in the closet, all perfectly folded, just like it'd been this morning when he'd left it. Feeling under his jeans, his fingers closed around the bowie knife's hilt. Setting the knife aside, Dean began changing, shrugging out of his simple patient clothes and kicking them aside so he could put on his real clothes. The last things to go on were his boots and jacket, the weight of his pendent settling comfortably against his chest. Dean turned his attention to getting ready for the night. Flashlight? Check. Bowie? Check. And something to carry more than a handful of salt...Dean improvised, removing the pillow case from his pillow and balling it up so he could stuff it in his pocket.

Ready as he was ever gonna be. Aside from being bandaged up still, he was good.

Dean consulted the map he'd copied his first day here from the bulletin board. If he was gonna try to get hold of a rosary, it'd most likely be in Patient Possessions - someone here would've had to be a Bible-thumper who believed in God and all that stuff at some point, right? Salt, he figured the kitchen. As for something to deal with Punk-Ass, he figured he'd need some rope (or duct tape, if they didn't have any rope just lyin' around) and something to draw out the Key of Solomon. Not to mention water; kinda hard to make holy water when you had the holy but not the water. First thing was first though; he still had that meeting with that "R" chick - he thought it was a chick - in F-A hall for that spare flashlight.

The hunter turned on his flashlight and opened M2's door, stepping outside.

[To here]

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Ed bristled at the implication that the sword was only 'good enough'. It was damn good work! Better than a lot of smiths could manage, not to mention much much faster. He just glowered stonily at the floor and let Hughes deal with it before turning his attention to the older man. "Hope it serves," he said, a little sourly, grumpy now that his work hadn't been properly appreciated. He was doing people a favour. He could have just refused.

It was rare indeed for Leon to verbally acknowledge a job well done--it took quite a lot to impress him, and even more to make him admit it. He might as well have written a sonnet for Ed, and it would have been no more of a compliment then 'good doing business with you.' That Ed couldn't possibly know how astounding it was for Leon to compliment him even that much, well, that wasn't Leon's problem, as far as he was concerned.

Letting the sword fall to a resting position at his side, Leon bowed gracefully and turned to leave. "This will not be forgotten. If you have need of my service some night, let me know." And then he made his exit, not leaving time for a response--it was embarrassing enough to have said that much.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/546983.html?thread=44943527#t44943527)]

"Yeah, the usually say something along those lines," Hughes said, as the door closed. He leaned back, shaking his head a little. "And that's why you don't ask for anything in return. People are more likely to offer out of feeling like they have sort of obligation than if you present it like a deal. Present it like a deal, and you get 'wait, if they really wanted to help, they'd just do it for free'. Do a favor...well, mankind generally has a guilty conscious."

It wasn't often that Hughes actually discussed his reasoning or his deeper machinations with Ed, but...well, he had promised to treat Ed more like an adult.

"So, I guess you want to know about what happened last night," he went on, glancing over at the young alchemist.

"That makes sense I guess," Ed said thoughtfully. It wasn't exactly equivalent trade, but as long as it worked, he supposed it didn't matter. He felt a little awkward requiring things off people later on that hadn't been specified, but as long as they got repaid in the end he was willing to live with it. "I don't understand people," he added with a grimace. He never had and probably never would.

He gave Hughes a serious look and nodded. "Yes," he replied.

Hughes nodded in return.

"I can give you the long version, or the short version. Short version sums it up pretty well, though." He rubbed at the thick stubble on his chin and exhaled, not quite sure how to explain what had happened. He supposed just telling Ed was the best way to go.

"I had another run in with Envy last night," he finally said, his tone serious but not dreadfully so. A man recalling an unpleasant dream, rather than dispensing with words of doom. "I guess he figured he needed to do the job again, I don't know. Came right in the door, swinging some glass knife and punching, trying to overtake me with surprise, I guess. I had a guy in here with me, learning some self defense. He got knocked out, and I had my knives on me so I just sort of...went on instinct." He shrugged a little.

"It was over almost before it started."

Ed opened his mouth to say something, but froze when Hughes mentioned Envy, his expression hardening into something very very close to hatred. Envy who had killed Hughes and kidnapped Al and who was... The thought made him feel rather sick. He just stared as Hughes described what had happened, hand clenching into a fist at his side. He was going to hunt down that bastard and...

"Over?" he asked suddenly, eyes narrowing. What did that mean? Hughes was alive and...

Nightshift 38: M1- M10 Hallway

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