Wonka looked up from his notes as the Head Doctor began his nightly address, curious as to what the man might say, but ended up listening only a few seconds before tuning him out again. It was just like all the others - the self-righteous tone of voice, the sentiments of the universe owing him something - that same power-drunk mess of complexes that Wonka had seen ten years ago, and had kept seeing ever since. He gave a sigh, and tried as hard as he could to imagine the Chocolate Room, to picture the colors of the foliage and the trickle of the river, to escape having to listen to another spoiled adult take out his anger on others.

Thankfully, Landel finished his rant in what might have been record time; it was only a few moments more before the static drowned out his voice and the doors unlocked. Free of the man's monologuing, Wonka leapt to his feet, grabbed his notebook and flashlight, and followed Brook out the door and down the hallway, towards (he hoped) more pleasant and rewarding things in the outside darkness.