damned_institute | Day 42: Pearl's Beauty Salon

Entry tags:

apollo,
phoenix

Day 42: Pearl's Beauty Salon

Definitely chillier than last time, Phoenix affirmed with a brief shiver, re-wrapping his scarf as he stepped off the bus and onto the street. All of the patients looked to be drifting their separate ways, down towards parks and side-streets, and as he took off he wondered what the point of this exercise was. 'Test' seemed like the popular theory for everything the institute did, but Doyleton especially reeked of some bad reality show setup. Four coupons, a bag of food, and a full day in a town full of everything but some meaningful connection to the outside world. He mentally cataloged the most glaring missing pieces. No banks, no churches, no post offices, no newspapers or ads. He made a note to look for televisions - maybe the bar would have one - though he doubted already any one would be turned to a channel with current events, or even so much as a news ticker. And there wasn't even a police station, at least not one he'd seen during the full lap of the place last time - just a building that he'd really wanted to believe he'd misread the fist time his eyes darted past the words 'sheriff's office'.

An entire town with no infrastructure. Phoenix felt almost embarrassed by how awful a sham it was. He knew that most of the patients would probably assume it was a fake anyway, but whoever had made the place could have at least tried.

Walking down the street, Phoenix took stock of his resources and did his best to formulate a plan of action. Since he didn't imagine that whoever ran the hair salon would be falling all over her- or himself to trade for a muffin and some fruit, what he was left with was coupons. What was more, it looked like basically the same coupon book as last time. He cursed at himself for having gotten rid of last week's extras. That would be two massages and two manicures to bargain with (along with maybe today's lunch, if he got especially desperate). Two of both the luxury goods he could probably do something with, but only one of each? That was trickier.

He stopped outside the door to the salon, ruffling through the booklet one last time, distractedly sipping at his juice.

[reserved for Apollo]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The bus ride had been woefully short -- but, then, Apollo hadn't been able to ask Prosecutor Gavin half the things he'd wanted to, either. He would have been content to keep their conversation going, but it'd been too easy to get separated among the throng of patients (some of whom were kind of crazy, he reminded himself uneasily as he tried to keep his distance). He knew Prosecutor Gavin had already been here 5 days and had been able to stay in one piece so far. He'd probably be able to look after himself here all right. Apollo just hoped they'd get another chance to talk again later.

At least this place wasn't blanketed in fog. There wasn't anything like blood on the ground, either, thank goodness. That was...well, a good sign, at least, right? Then again, one of the most important rules Apollo had learned so far was that appearances were often deceiving -- that seemed to go doubly so for this place. Heck, the staff even called them by fake names, and every question he asked only got a weird answer in turn.

It was about time for him to do a bit of his own investigation. Now that it was daylight and he wasn't trembling behind a flashlight beam, Apollo felt a little more emboldened as he made his way down Main Street. The chilly air wasn't lost on him by any means, and as he pulled his jacket collar closer to his neck, he wondered if he hadn't been taken further north. It shouldn't have been quite this cold yet. It was only October, after all.

Last I remembered, anyway, he couldn't help but think, and the weirdness of the situation washed over him again. It'd really help if he could get a solid date. Maybe he could find a newspaper lying around somewhere?

Well, there was a beauty salon. They ought to have some magazines in the waiting area, right? Apollo made his way over to the building, coupon booklet and unopened paper sack in hand. From a small distance, he could vaguely make out his own figure reflecting back at him from the shop's window. Instinctively, he frowned at the sight -- the shirt was too sloppy for his liking, and the jacket obviously didn't fit him right, even if it was warm. It looked terribly unprofessional, which would have been fine if he was some college kid shooting the breeze. Even back when he was in school, though, he'd tried to make himself look more presentable than this.

Grimacing, he blew his wilted bangs out of his face again. The sooner he got this mess sorted out, the sooner things could go back to normal again, he told himself. He was about to turn to head inside to ask a few questions and look around, but he stopped short when he caught sight of a familiar figure.

"M-mister Wright!?" Apollo blurted out, and he reached out for his arm without thinking. "Oh, wow..." He gave a small, relieved laugh, and suddenly the knot in his stomach felt so much lighter. "I didn't expect to see you here, sir." And Apollo had actually wondered if he'd be able to count on him for help. But here he was, Phoenix Wright -- and he'd located Apollo before he'd even had a chance to get to a phone!

"How'd you find me?" he asked, anxious to hear all the details. However he'd done it, that was some pretty amazing detective work. It kind of made Apollo wonder who else he'd gotten to run his smaller errands for him in the meantime, but they could get to that later.

"Blank incomprehension" might have still credited the look on Phoenix's face with a little too much recognition right at that moment. He wasn't complaining, exactly - it was always nice to meet someone who was glad to see you, he guessed. It was actually kind of flattering to meet someone who treated your presence like some kind of magic trick, even if Phoenix himself, in his normal life, was completely unused to someone proclaiming their joy at seeing him without in the same breath telling him what he had to do for them right now.

That still didn't change the fact that there was a guy holding onto his arm, looking at him like he'd personally come to Doyleton to . . .

Oh, no. His gut sank. He knows me - probably future. He thinks I tracked him down - acquaintance, at the least. And he's just assuming that I know him back - probably new. He just hoped whoever-this-was didn't think that Phoenix had the ability to get him out.

There is actually no good way to start this conversation.

His jaw worked at words for a good five seconds before his vocal cords caught up, and even then the two only synced reluctantly. "I- um. I'm sure this is going to sound crazy. But how do you know me?" He hadn't consciously intended to do it, even, but the moment the words were past his tongue he felt that fluid something again, humming and warm in the bony spaces behind his eyes, like an engine left to idle that he hadn't remembered until now. Well. That was one way to get answers, at least.

Mr. Wright's silence was a little less than comforting, but he'd never really been the most reassuring guy in the first place. Still, that wasn't the way someone normally greeted you, especially if they'd spent the time tracking you down. Frowning to himself, Apollo peered a little more carefully at the other man's face, noting that it was actually rather clean-shaven. If he hadn't know any better, he would have thought he looked a bit younger, even, but maybe that was because he'd obviously spruced himself up a little bit.

When he finally spoke, Apollo's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Wh-what?" Okay, he knew Mr. Wright hadn't forgotten him. That would have been cold, even for him. "It's me, Apollo, I--" Oh, why was he even playing along with this? He frowned, suddenly growing serious. "This isn't really the time for jokes, Mr. Wright!"

Because he had to be joking. There was no way he would just not remember Apollo, right?

Right?

Apollo's gaze flickered between the coupon booklet in Mr. Wright's hand, and then his face, effectively retying that nasty knot in the pit of his stomach. Oh, no...

Joke? That would be one hell of a joke, pretending to forget someone you'd ostensibly gone to a lot of trouble to seek out. Though Kristoph had seemed disbelieving of his sincerity, too, he'd glossed over that in the total newness of meeting someone from so far into his future. But such a similar response from a second person tugged at that same itching, terrible thread of doubt he tried time and again to ignore. None of these future people treated him like he was . . . well, himself. And while he knew he was capable of change, he didn't at all like the way all of these road signs pointed.

What was more, Apollo (he had heard that right, hadn't he?) wasn't even registering the tiniest white lie. Phoenix would've believed he was sincere, but having the confirmation really drove it home. This was someone who knew him, and who found it inconceivable that Phoenix wouldn't recognize him.

"Here- Apollo, right?" He released a slow breath - there was no easy way to say this, but he tried to be as easy about it as he could, as if he were presenting something unbelievable but still perfectly true in a court of law. "Okay. I'm not the person you think I am because I'm twenty-six years old, right now. Though, I hear the 'still an attorney' thing is a big difference, too, and- ngh." The composure crumbled, finally, under the weight of a repeating internal monologue of this is ridiculous, listen to yourself. Phoenix cut himself short with a guttural, frustrated noise, looking away and then back again. He wouldn't have been so anxious to defend himself, but that incredulity, the certainty that Phoenix had been pulling some . .. some kind of trick, hung around his neck like lead. "I'm guessing you're new, and I know that this all probably still sounds insane. But I'm not lying to you."

Edited 2009-07-01 04:42 (UTC)

Apollo's limbs grew almost numb at the ice-cold realization that Mr. Wright was being completely honest about all this. A part of him felt guilty for accusing him of joking around, especially during a time like this. He forced himself to push that aside for now.

He wanted to ask him if he was all right, if maybe he'd suffered a nasty fall recently, but it was pretty obvious he wasn't okay. His discussion with Prosecutor Gavin was still fresh on his mind, and one of the main things he'd gathered from all that was that these..."time differences" were pretty common-place around here. But for Mr. Wright to say he was twenty-six...?

The amnesia explanation would have definitely been a lot simpler, not to mention more logical. But it seemed downright wrong to wish someone had cracked their head on something just for the sake of convenience, so Apollo let that thought go.

It was obvious Mr. Wright was having a hard enough time as it was.

"You, uh, sound like this isn't the first time this has happened to you," Apollo pointed out, and he sighed. "Sorry...I didn't mean to weird you out or anything." He could only imagine what it'd be like to be in Mr. Wright's shoes, with multiple people mistaking him for his less-than-happy "future" self. Talk about unnerving!

Then again, meeting a Mr. Wright who was acting like he was from seven years in the past was pretty unnerving, too.

Was it really so obvious he was new, though? Apollo rubbed the back of his neck, looking faintly sheepish. "Yeah, I just woke up here last night. And I'm guessing you've, um, been here awhile, huh?"

Edited 2009-07-01 07:23 (UTC)

"Ten days. And it's alright - I've seen and heard weirder," he replied, attempting to be at least a little reassuring. Apollo just radiated earnestness, tempered with a sort of unashamed practicality that Phoenix couldn't help warming to. His being disconcerted by the case of semi-mistaken identity couldn't have been helped - Landel's just did this kind of thing to people, and if it couldn't get you one way it got you another - but he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable for having been a party to it. "It's probably worse being new here and not being remembered by people who should know you." He didn't make the observation as an invitation to talk - merely as a statement of fact - and moved on before it could spark a response. Talking about feeling distressed at Landel's was like talking about water in the middle of the ocean. You could do it a lot, but it didn't do much good, and at the end of the day you hadn't heard anything you didn't already know one way or another.

"Anyway, I could probably talk your ear off all day, but you looked like you were heading for the shop here." Phoenix nodded his head vaguely toward the door they were admittedly half-obstructing. "I should probably head in myself - my hair's starting to drive me a little nuts." He spoke the last few words a bit lower, tucking back one of the bits at his temples that would doubtlessly fray back out in a minute or two.

Ten days. Apollo let out a breath at the response, realizing that Mr. Wright had been here even longer than Prosecutor Gavin. On the surface ten days didn't seem so bad, but something about all this didn't sit right with Apollo -- aside from the monsters, kidnappings and unexplained memory loss, anyway. (As if all that wasn't enough, he silently grumbled to himself.) Prosecutor Gavin had talked about time differences as if they were a fact of life at Landel's, and yet it still didn't explain much.

"There's that, I guess, but..." Of course Mr. Wright wouldn't remember him if he was 23 -- or thought he was, if that's what it came down to. Apollo knew better than to take it personally, disconcerting as it may have been. To be honest, he was a little more worried about how this could affect Trucy later on down the line. What if they got out of here and Mr. Wright couldn't even recognize his own daughter?

That was the last thing she needed right now.

Apollo shook his head, just grateful that he hadn't run into her here. He hoped she'd be all right home alone until he could find a way out of this place. But with people like Prosecutor Gavin and Mr. Wright on the case, how could he expect to dig up solid leads that they hadn't already found?

He glanced over toward the door. "Yeah, I was just hoping to find some answers." But there didn't seem to be a lot of those around here, did there? Still, Apollo was a bit surprised that Mr. Wright was going to see about his hair. Not that he couldn't sympathize -- his own bangs had flopped over his eyes moments ago, serving as a stark reminder of the fact that he couldn't even taken himself seriously with the way he looked right now. Still, with the way Mr. Wright wore that beanie over his hair before, it was funny to think that he'd once cared about that kind of thing.

"...and possibly some gel, too," he admitted. Maybe the need for good hair was a defense attorney thing -- a guy had to look presentable when trying to keep someone off of death row, after all. "I guess there's no harm in at least checking for it, right?"

"That's a good idea - I'm going to spend the day looking around, myself. All the same, I'm not holding my breath for any revelations." Phoenix remembered being new here, feeling that certainty that any day now he'd uncover something huge. He hadn't given up on figuring this out, but it wasn't going to be a three-day trial. Not by a long shot. "From what I've been able to tell, the people in the town here know about as much as the nurses." That could've been everything or nothing, really, but there was less and less room left in-between. Phoenix still couldn't get over the idea that his nurse never lied to him, or even bent the truth a little. That left the possibility of her being immune to whatever it was that he could do, now. (He didn't entirely like thinking about them as Psyche Locks. Psyche Locks were something outside of himself, something that he could keep from happening if he wanted to. They weren't always waiting in that lingeringly achy place behind his eyes, and they been put there by needles.) How someone could be resistant to him seeing something about them was something he couldn't fathom, but he'd be the first to admit that he didn't exactly understand the subtleties of what he was doing in the first place.

There were other, wilder theories too - that she wasn't real, like a television character, or that she was actually telling the complete and unabridged truth. Phoenix didn't want to pursue either of those into their own sets of implications until he'd exhausted the likelier options. If nothing else, after today he might be able to narrow down those options a little.

"Like you said, though, it doesn't hurt to check." That wasn't an infallible rule, exactly; there were certain circumstances (usually involving well-muscled men in suits with a disconcerting tendency to crack their knuckles) when there was definite harm to be gained in sniffing around. But here? The only way there could be less danger in this town would be if they padded it with foam rubber. Phoenix opened the door, gesturing Apollo inside. "After you."

Apollo's face betrayed the momentary surprise that he felt when Mr. Wright held the door open for him, but it was fleeting. "Thank you," he replied before stepped into the building.

As soon as he was inside, he was a little relieved to find it was about like any other hair salon he'd visited in the past. (He didn't like to use the term beauty parlor for obvious reasons.) These days, he didn't have much money to plop down for hair cuts, and so he generally liked to style it himself. That suited him just fine, though -- he wouldn't let just anyone touch his hair, after all.

Of course, seeing that he didn't have much money to spend at salons before becoming a mental patient, he wasn't sure how much luck he'd have in finding some hair gel around here. Then again, it was possible they could work something out with the people who ran this place. And maybe Apollo could get a better feel of what kind of town this was while he was at it. Answers would be good, too, but judging from the way people were acting about this whole trip, Apollo had a feeling he'd have to dig much deeper for some of those.

Part of him was hoping he'd get more of a chance to talk things out with Mr. Wright, too, but he knew their time here was limited. Maybe if he had a chance later he could ask him more questions.

In the meantime, they needed to find someone who worked here. It didn't seem crowded at all, so that wouldn't be too hard, right?

"Um, excuse me?" he called, glancing around.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Day 42: Pearl's Beauty Salon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject