damned_institute | Day 41: Sun Room

Haseo's steps were heavy with the weight of righteous anger as he was escorted into the Sun Room, his posture so sullen and reluctant you could almost hear the nostalgic cry of an electric guitar. He was seething, and though perhaps it was a bit harder to be intimidating while wearing the uniform of an insane asylum and flanked by a bored-looking orderly, it was not for lack of trying.

Unfortunately, his nurse seemed unaffected by the act, and even with the cloud of failing to keep "Kai" away from "Peyton" hanging over her, remained determinedly cheerful. She merely said something about receiving a lecture later on, ignored his retorts, and assured him that it would be alright even though his internet stalker was in the same building. For the most part, Haseo tuned her babbling out after that, dismissing it as hopeless.

"...and usually this would be the time children would be taking showers, but you don't have to worry about that right now. Now then, le--"

"Wait. What?"

"Oh, all the children seventeen or under are separated right now while the adults go to the courtyard..."

"Hey, I'm not a kid you old--!"

"Oh of course you aren't dear, but you're not eighteen yet either, now are you?"

Haseo resisted the urge to do something rash, literally biting his tongue to keep quiet. But upon having the bulletin board pointed out to him, he shrugged off his anger for the most part and headed that way, fully intending to get more answers than he'd had time to receive during breakfast.

Well... at least Endrance is in another shower group, he thought, Thank god.

[Closed to Tsukasa, for now!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ack, sorry for being slow, I didn't see the tag! D: ]

Gin regarded the man casually, with a smile and a nod as he sat on the couch. He didn't appear overly interested, but then, there were several other conversations and goings on that made splitting his attention too much difficult.

"Not at all," he shrugged, "jus' takin' it easy. An' yourself?" He hadn't met this one before, and few people approached him without reason. For now, however, he remained friendly and open.

"I want to know who puts up those long and helpful notes," Crawford said, glancing at the board again. There was no point in concealing it; perhaps this man might even know, might be willing to talk about it. "The club information, and the maps, among other things."

One of them was M.E., that was all he knew--and it was entirely possible that the man sitting next to him was the same M.E., but there was only one way to find out. "Brad Crawford," he added, extending his hand.

"Ara... so tha's it. Hnn... well, I'm not th' one you're lookin' for then," he shrugged helplessly, giving no more information than that. This guy could be looking for them for any number of reasons, good or bad. Gin honestly could care less which it was, but he wasn't about to give any answers so easily.

He leaned forward to shake the man's hand, growing at least a little more accustomed to the western custom. "Ichimaru Gin," he replied. "Pleased t'meetcha"

Crawford paused almost imperceptibly before taking his hand back. Ichimaru Gin--sounded familiar because he had written it down two nights ago, he remembered. Schuldig had said something about him, something to the effect of he could be invaluable or dangerous.

"Likewise," said Crawford, smiling. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you seem used to this." He gestured vaguely to the room, indicating the entire situation. "Do you think it's naïve to assume that anything can be done with regard to escaping, or finding the head doctor?"

"Been here a while," he said by way of explanation. "Longer n' most I s'pose. But I dunno if anyone could ever get used t' a place like this."

He gave another shrug. The second question was a little bit more difficult to answer. It bordered between casual conversation and something a bit more probing, but if Gin was bothered by it, none of that showed in his fox-like smile.

"Saa... I jus' figure it wouldn' be much've a game if we never got anywhere. Somethin' has t'give eventually. What's your take on it Crawford-san?"

A game--that was an interesting idea, one that Crawford hadn't yet entertained, and one, he suspected, that wouldn't have occurred to most people. Ichimaru wasn't disappointing, so far.

"You may be right," he conceded, "but I think it depends on the type of game. He could be gambling with us, or we could be rats in a maze, where every path we discover, every puzzle we decipher is a deliberate gift from him, in which case, it wouldn't matter."

He paused and drummed his fingers on the couch. It was too easy to imagine someone like that running the institution, and complete omniscience wouldn't even be necessary to control every outcome, if he had likewise talented people working with him. Crawford knew that from experience, which was somewhat disorienting--realizing that your own tactics were possibly being used against you. "If it's anything like that, the clubs must be very amusing to him," he added.

It didn't pass Gin's notice that Crawford hadn't answered the question himself just yet. If anything, it was the first conclusion Gin had come to, and thus far, he'd yet to find sufficient proof otherwise. Sure, they hid behind reasons like some greater good or unknown evil, but in the end, weren't they just toys in some madman's game?

So long as the game was fun, Gin supposed it wasn't so bad. Things had seemed a bit dull lately though. Ever since that rival of the doctor's had gone, things just weren't quite as exciting. Pity.

"Anyway y'like t'see it," he said easily, "ain't much gonna change bein' stuck in it all th' same. But I s'pose if it were me, I'd be pretty entertained."

Crawford shot him an undisguised considering look, the kind he gave Schuldig when he'd said something unexpectedly clever. Normal humans almost never got it; they rarely surprised and even more rarely impressed him.

Of course, in this place, there was no sense in assuming that anyone was normal--and now he was curious.

"It wouldn't be my kind of game," he admitted, "but you make an excellent argument for a change of perspective."

Seemed he'd surprised the man, or at the very least given him something to think about.

"Ara," Gin sighed, waving one hand, "ain't anythin' special. Everyone sees things a lil' different." Crawford seemed like an intelligent man, though too often Gin was underestimated because of his strange looks and his country accent.

"Now I'm curious," he admitted, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he folded his hands. "How Crawford-san sees things 'round here."

Crawford had a hunch that Ichimaru was very much aware of just how differently he saw things, despite his easy dismissal. He deserved the dignity of an honest response.

"Uncharitably, I'm sure," he said, smiling again. "People are predictable in any situation, even strange ones: the first thing they do is pull themselves out of chaos, which often translates to gathering into herds--excuse me, groups," he corrected himself, though he hadn't made a mistake. "I'm not interested in joining them. Directing their combined energy, though, could produce results worth looking at."

Day 41: Sun Room

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