damned_institute | Day 39: Sun Room

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Day 39: Sun Room

That really hadn't been the breakfast she'd been expecting, but Yuffie couldn't bring herself to complain. The kid made for good company, and was, if nothing else, pretty entertaining. She could've just done without the whole choking thing. That… That had been embarrassing. A bit. Okay, a lot. Yuffie was starting to get a feeling that this day was -- for once-- actually going to ping on her ‘interesting!’ meter.

Whether or not that was a good thing, she didn’t know.

By the time she’d reached the Sun Room's bulletin board, a kitten on her shoulder and a pen twirling between her fingers, Yuffie was starting to put her finger on why she had that weird, nagging feeling. Though on second thought, it was less like putting her finger on it and more like it had jumped up and punched her right in the nose; the feeling wasn’t just about waffles, magicians, or tricky candy thieves. Sagara hadn't answered her bulletin post; he hadn't answered any bulletin posts. She hadn't seen that stupid, spiky head of his all morning. It was like radio silence without a radio.

Agai-- No, Yuffie cut herself off sharply, frowning. She was just jumping to conclusions. It wouldn't be the first time, right? Right! And yet… instincts were instincts for a reason, and in a dump like this, who knew what could happen?

[for Okita?]

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"I know. I am dazzling. I dazzle you. I get that a lot, it is because I am rich and powerful. I am the man with the guns; the world is my bitch." It was fun to play at being the man he had been before here...but it didn't even ring true anymore. How much had this goddamn place changed him, anyway?

Trevelyan crossed his arms, then paused. "What a bizarre question. Are you thinking about getting into the soaps, Javert? Your life is so like one, you know. Really, all you need is an evil twin with a mullet and an eyepatch and you'd be all set." Not to be outdone, he took out his own journal to record some notes. "Honestly, why would you even want to know? It's not like you'd find it useful in 1832, unless you want to become an inventor and make millions of francs off it."

Javert only raised an eyebrow. "You talk as if you've been only partially sedated. Perhaps I should fetch your nurse; you clearly haven't had enough."

Very little of what Trevelyan said made any sort of sense, but the other man's tone of voice was clear enough. He smirked slightly at the sight of Trevelyan's journal. If he wanted answers, he certainly wasn't going to get them.

"Mere curiosity, I suppose. I heard someone mention it at breakfast and I'll need to keep up the appearance of being modern if I want my doctors to think me sane."

"Nonsense. They don't even have the good stuff," he said, sighing. "Why would I pollute myself with the low-grade drugs? For someone who claims they have a decent grasp of the criminal mind, you disappoint me, Inspector." Was he joking? Hell, even he didn't know. But crack was wack, and OxyContin was for loudmouth radio hosts. Everything except morphine was strictly off-limits!

How did you explain television?

"This is...this is going to take some...hmm. It's a box," he began, being vague mostly to piss Javert off, but also because he'd never had to seriously explain television to anyone before.

I wonder if Javert would watch COPS... (Obviously the lack of air last night had affected his brain somewhat.)

Javert ignored Trevelyan's comments for the explanation, which hadn't exactly begun in a promising fashion. A box...Bonne had used the same word.

"I was told that it was a box that showed images - moving pictures, I believe, was the term they used - and that it could record events, after a fashion." He frowned slightly. "About how large is a television - " he stumbled slightly over the pronunciation, much to his chagrin - "anyway?"

"Well, it can record events if you hook up a VCR to it and have a blank tape in and set it up properly..." Like any of that made sense to Javert, who was seriously behind the times. "Sounds like you know pretty much what it is already. As for size, it ranges." He'd had a few small ones at his disposal back in Cuba, but they were hardly the norm. "They're usually about this big," he said, waving his hands around in the space an average-sized TV would usually occupy.

He choked back the snark he'd been about to let loose with, which was difficult. "So what have you been up to?" he asked. Good, good. Keeping it civil, no claws. "Run into anything terrifying lately?"

"That's terribly unhelpful of you," said Javert dryly. "I've still no idea what the damned thing looks like, or how it works. or what 'recording events' even means, for that matter. The least I can do is attempt to keep up with the times."

He shrugged slightly. "Not in particular. I've taken to working with the group that calls itself the History Club; my team encountered a Special Counseling patient last night, but nothing out of the ordinary." A half-smile. "In any case, we seem to have done better than you did, judging from your mood this morning."

"We aim to please," Alec said, echoing James' sentiment of two weeks ago. "It's a box. It is usually black or some dull, bland color and there is a pane of glass in the front. When the TV is off, the pane is black. When the TV is on, it shows color pictures in conjunction with sound. A VCR records the sound and video onto a tape for later review. I don't know exactly how, because I do not have a degree in electrical engineering. Sometimes they are available for purchase with movies - that would be recorded plays, to you - on them." He was not going to get into laserdiscs or Hollywood - he felt a headache coming on.

Trevelyan leveled his gaze at a point just slightly over Javert's right shoulder - he remembered what happened last time he'd made eye contact. "I've been touring the place with Armand and a couple of his friends. We're due for lunch, actually." He had to work very hard to keep any emotion from showing on his face as he asked his next question. "What do you know about creatures that take air?" he asked calmly.

Javert wrote quickly; things were starting to make a little more sense, though he'd probably have to ask Edgeworth about it as well and it was likely he wouldn't fully understand unless he actually saw one for himself. He made a note of that, too - no doubt they would have them in Doyleton.

"Ah, St.-Just. The same as ever, I take it. I haven't spoken to him in a while; we had a bit of a political debate, as it were." Which was something of an understatement, really.

"Creatures that take air," he repeated thoughtfully. He had a fairly good idea of where this was headed. "I haven't had any experience with them myself, but the post on the bulletin board mentioned one: something about avoiding making deals with them. Why?"

"You mean more optimistic and peppy than any human being has a right to be? Yeah, same old St.-Just, all right." Alec gave Javert a look that could easily be construed as ironic. "Did it involve any mention of the Republic?"

Should he tell Javert about what the doctors had done to him? It wasn't his business, but then again, neither was half of what they'd talked about so far. The hell with it. "He was taken by the doctors the other night - same sort of thing which happened to you, I believe. Seems they're working through the Frenchman population with alacrity."

At Javert's question, he didn't let his discomfort show. The memory of Arkangelsk was still far too vivid, brought back to him by the fire consuming the oxygen and the choking chemical smoke. "I don't know how deals could be made with them if they take your air before you can speak, but I ran into some upstairs. Nice to know they're not an entirely unknown phenomenon."

"Really now. The St.-Just I know has a tendency to burst into tears on a regular basis." Granted, that had been more or less entirely his fault, but making people cry was hardly a crime, or he'd have been locked up ages ago. "And yes, it did indeed. However did you know?"

He hadn't known about Armand's being taken for experimentation, though, and he made a mental note to speak to the other man later. The more information he acquired about what was occurring at night, the better. "I may have to ask him about that. Do you know what they did to him?

"Very few phenomena here are entirely unknown, I suppose. There's always someone who recognizes some creature or another from their home world."

Trevelyan shrugged. "I paid attention in European History when I was young. Besides, what else would you debate about, the U.S. picking Clinton over Bush in '92?"

When Javert said he'd have to ask, the ex-00 shook his head. "Bad idea. You can invite him to tell you, if he chooses, but just don't ask him outright. He wouldn't appreciate it. See, he now has to answer every question he's asked truthfully - absolutely so - and while I know it's a godsend for a cop like you, don't abuse it. He mentioned something to me about being injected with chemicals, if that's relevant."

oh alec you're such a relic of the 90s

"I see." No doubt it was difficult for St. Just; the man seemed to value his privacy a great deal. While Javert had no real qualms about distressing the other man, it was just as simple - probably simpler - to obtain his information through other means for the time being.

"I suppose I should spare him my inquiries for the time being, then," he added dryly. "He'd probably appreciate that."

"He probably would." Alec said. What was wrong with him? Damn it, he wasn't supposed to care about other people. They were his toys. So why did he get even vaguely protective of Armand?

Pushing that thought aside, he returned his attention to the now. "Invaded anybody's brain lately?"

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Day 39: Sun Room

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