damned_institute | 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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Dammit. Indy had been hoping to ask him the same question. Well, with any luck he'd still be able to get his answer about whether the guy had done any time-traveling. "Not sure. It's easy to lose track in here--all the monotony, y'know," he bluffed. "It's winter, though, if the light is any indication." He nodded at the skylight. Innocently, he added, "2009, of course. Why, what date was it before you checked in?"

Well, that should do it. He'd either get no reaction at all, or he would just have crossed the threshold of insanity. Although for that matter, Indy had no reason to believe that his conversation partner was at all sane himself. He still couldn't be sure whether Landel was seeding in ordinary psych ward patients along with people like him.

He wondered if there was any point in posing the time-travel question on the bulletin board. It would probably yield a range of responses, but on the other hand, it was convenient to be able to pair a set of circumstances to a face--and to have a better shot at judging if the person behind the face was telling what he thought was the truth. Not that it mattered much either way, really. More evidence was just reassuring, but once he'd established the fact that it really was 2009, there wasn't much point in pursuing the question further unless it was likely to yield any insight on how to get back. He doubted that it was.

Both of the answers that the man gave made no sense. It had been July of 2008 the last time Harvey had checked, and he knew there was no way he had spent that much time passed out. It wasn't like the stranger had given him any reason to believe what he was saying, but the fact that the guy thought it was so far into the future was disconcerting when he came off as level otherwise.

Harvey knew he had the right date (give or take a few days at the most), but he didn't feel inclined to share that with the headcase. "It doesn't matter," he snapped, not making eye contact now that the man's usefulness was becoming less likely. He was sick of talking, but he got the feeling the conversation wasn't over.

Even though he still had a stockpile of questions that he needed answers to, there were no good sources. The patients couldn't be trusted, and the nurses weren't willing to talk. Brute force wasn't going to fly, either. He was going to have to put more thought into this when the drugs weren't making him feel like he was floating.

That hadn't been what Indy had been looking for either. The guy hadn't accepted the time he'd named as fact or acted at all surprised that Indy's perception was so far off, or even commented on how ridiculous the conjecture was. Instead, he'd taken the solid middle road and shut down, likely dismissing Indy as just another screwball. He was off in time then, but probably not too far--maybe by a few years, Indy theorized. He chalked up a point in favor of the time-travel theory nonetheless.

Obviously more conversation was not forthcoming from his cheerful conversation partner. Indy considered whether to wait out the rest of the shift in stoic silence or try to keep the discussion (such as it was) going. Neither sounded particularly appealing, especially with the look on half of that guy's face. Then again, they did have all morning, and trying to get up and leave might well earn him nothing more than a pep talk from one of the nurses about giving people a chance and a strong-arm right back to this chair.

Across the room, Pierson was having a high old time with some septuagenarian Indy couldn't remember having seen before. If Pierson could actually manage to get along with someone for more than five minutes at a clip, there was hope for anybody. "I'm Dr. Indiana Jones, by the way," he offered with a deliberately friendly grin. It was probably doomed to failure, but at least nobody could accuse him of not giving it the good old college try. "Anything else you want to know about this place?"

While Harvey had no clue why the stranger would think he cared about what his name was, it did bring up another question. Would his name be recognized around here? He had no clue how far out of Gotham this place was located, and that was what it depended on. On the other hand, if the doctor here had been locked up for long enough, then he probably wouldn't know his name even if the institute was close enough to Gotham that he would have been mentioned in the local news.

He would be taking a risk if he gave his name and the man recognized it, but in the end Harvey decided it was worth it. Even if the crazy did know his name, what did it matter? Harvey wasn't the one who was trying to hide what had happened to him, after all. Whoever had tucked him away in this place was the one guilty of that.

"Harvey Dent," he introduced himself, looking back to the other man so that he could watch his reaction. "And where is this place located?" His attempt to find out the date hadn't worked out too well, but maybe this question would be easier for the crazy to wrap his head around.

Indy tried to avoid being too obvious with his blank stare. It almost seemed as though Dent was watching him, expecting him to recognize the name. He couldn't place it, not that he would have expected to--who knew when Dent was from. Indy wondered what he was known for, wherever it was. Actor? Criminal? Or had everyone just heard about the accident? Whatever Dent did at home, it couldn't have been a job that required much charm. "Nice to meet you," he lied through his teeth, politeness and habit kicking in simultaneously.

At least he could actually respond to Dent's question, although not in any way he'd want to hear. "I'm not sure, to be honest," Indy replied. "Neither is anyone else. Probably somewhere in the United States, given the nurses' accents. I was brought here from the New York City area, but that doesn't mean much in here."

Dent had no idea just how little. Indy, who imagined he could practically feel the skepticism radiating from the other chair, wasn't going to tell him--let Dent get the time travel and language-translation mumbo-jumbo from the bulletin board, if he was so inclined.

Harvey had already been figuring they were in the US, so the man's response didn't help him -- other than letting him know that the patients here were clueless, which at least meant they didn't have an advantage over him. He wasn't sure if there was a point in considering them threats, but he knew what types had been tossed into Arkham, and most of them couldn't be trusted as far as they could be thrown. He could apply the same outlook here.

New York. That was a good distance away from Gotham, which meant that he could be anywhere, though he was betting he was still on the East Coast. It frustrated him that he only had lunatics to question about these things, but he was working with what he had for now.

At least the sedative was slowly wearing off. Objects that were at more of a distance were coming into focus, and his thoughts were sharper. Before he could come up with anything else that the so-called doctor might have an answer to, though, an intercom went off (he vaguely remembered this happening earlier) and announced that it was time for lunch. Back into the cafeteria, then? Harvey clenched his jaw, but nurses were already heading over.

He stood up with some effort, still not confident on his feet, and glanced over at the stranger. There wasn't anything to say, and so Harvey only nodded. His nurse was grabbing for him again, and while he was sorely tempted to give her the back of his hand, he wasn't looking to get sedated all over again. Soon enough, he had been led away.

Day 39: Sun Room

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