ext_201926 (
thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com) wrote in
damned_institute2009-07-03 01:21 am
Entry tags:
- aidou,
- alfred,
- anise,
- argilla,
- armand,
- asch,
- batman,
- belphegor,
- bridget,
- celes,
- chidori,
- claude,
- daredevil,
- edgeworth,
- franziska,
- frey,
- grell,
- guy,
- hanatarou,
- hanekoma,
- homura,
- jade,
- javert,
- joshua,
- junpei,
- kagura,
- kenren,
- luxord,
- michael westen,
- nathan petrelli,
- okita,
- peter parker,
- peter petrelli,
- porky,
- roland,
- takaya,
- the flash,
- tk-622,
- yuffie
Day 42, Noon: The Twin Pine Restaurant
Yuffie took the long way around, practically making it a tour of the entire town. She collared--not literally, since the nurses would've thrown fits--a few random citizens along the way, asked as many inconspicuous sounding questions as possible, and then moved on. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sneaking a few covert glimpses into stores and windows confirmed what she'd been talking about with Sam earlier; no dates, no explicitly mentioned locations outside of the town itself… how weird was that? Even the most insular of towns back on Gaia would've coughed up some kind of connection with the outside world.
It was almost like a living ghost town.
Well, maybe she was just thinking too hard. Maybe she was throwing shuriken too hard at the wrong target. Back home, she had a concrete frame of reference. Here, she couldn't take anything for granted; she had no local or international knowledge whatsoever. All she could try to do was get a profile of the immediate area and build it up and out from there. Theories were already budding, popping up like weeds hit by Quadra-Haste, but without facts to back them up, theories were like sand in a desert.
Not that she didn't want to share those theories, sand or not. She did. A lot.
Once she'd developed a viable mental map of the place (as viable as she was gonna get given the time constraints), Yuffie swung back around and jogged back to North Street. From there, she took the alley; a quick right turn; slow to a trot, and there. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold winter air, and they stung as she poked her head in through the door.
Okay, so maybe she was a little early after all. That was cool. Very cool. She had some time to set things up, to pretend that she wasn't hideously under prepared for this lunch date. Stepping into the warmth, Yuffie surreptitiously cased the place out as she headed to a table. Homey, in a way that almost reminded her of some of the up-and-coming rural towns. Automatically seeking out one of the more strategic seats--one with a good view of the rest of the restaurant, and one that didn't leave her totally vulnerable to mutant chairs or murderous sandwiches--she made herself comfortable, whipped out a few crumpled pieces of paper and a pen, and began to jot down her findings.
[Closed to Edgeworth.]
It was almost like a living ghost town.
Well, maybe she was just thinking too hard. Maybe she was throwing shuriken too hard at the wrong target. Back home, she had a concrete frame of reference. Here, she couldn't take anything for granted; she had no local or international knowledge whatsoever. All she could try to do was get a profile of the immediate area and build it up and out from there. Theories were already budding, popping up like weeds hit by Quadra-Haste, but without facts to back them up, theories were like sand in a desert.
Not that she didn't want to share those theories, sand or not. She did. A lot.
Once she'd developed a viable mental map of the place (as viable as she was gonna get given the time constraints), Yuffie swung back around and jogged back to North Street. From there, she took the alley; a quick right turn; slow to a trot, and there. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold winter air, and they stung as she poked her head in through the door.
Okay, so maybe she was a little early after all. That was cool. Very cool. She had some time to set things up, to pretend that she wasn't hideously under prepared for this lunch date. Stepping into the warmth, Yuffie surreptitiously cased the place out as she headed to a table. Homey, in a way that almost reminded her of some of the up-and-coming rural towns. Automatically seeking out one of the more strategic seats--one with a good view of the rest of the restaurant, and one that didn't leave her totally vulnerable to mutant chairs or murderous sandwiches--she made herself comfortable, whipped out a few crumpled pieces of paper and a pen, and began to jot down her findings.
[Closed to Edgeworth.]

no subject
Those next words, however, caused that grin to disappear.
"Someone had tried to kill me."
What.
What.
X's eyes narrowed at that. If he was incapable of being upset, he was making a damn good show of pretending. While the thought of someone wishing death upon Ms. Sutcliff was, of course, no surprise, the idea that they would leave such incriminating marks was simply...
Hmph.
"Was it the man from before?" His voice was cold. That interfering little imbecile. He should have only known he would find them eventually. This of course meant the Nobody need to deal with him before he was targeted next. If only Mr. Lamparouge had been more willing to be of assistance, then- Augh!
Why did he even bother on Saturdays? Nothing ever pleasant occurred on Saturdays.
no subject
But that was neither her nor there. On that note, she would go; it was only proper. The business was not on her time. "Is that so?" she asked, lips thinning. She turned her hand over in Luxord's and squeezed once, before pulling them away. A man with no heart, such as he claimed, shouldn't be reacting so passionately to someone's misfortune. It was, after all, what she found pleasing about him.
"But, I really think I should go; Luxord, my apologies, perhaps we can get together later." She stood and pressed her lips to the side of his cheek chastely - just the same kind of perfunctory kiss one noble would give to another. Still, it pleased some dark little part of her as it lasted a heart's beat over long.
"Be sure to tell me that name later, Grell. I'll be sure to look into things. It doesn't do anyone any good if there's an idiot running about murdering people." Or not, she might forget from here to the door. Who knew? Still, it was somewhat worrying to the young general that a murderer was about.
[ To here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/661753.html?thread=55086585#t55086585)]
no subject
Grell kept his feelings to himself when Celes pressed her lips to Luxord's cheek and bowed to her, one hand against his chest, when she requested a name. "I will, Madam General, if you so wish it."
He remained standing until after the woman was gone and far out of earshot. Then he sat and checked the area once before looking back to Luxord. There was no use for pretenses now so long as he kept his voice down and his expressions neutral. With a smile that fit the butler on his face, Grell dropped his voice low so no one else could hear. "Really, now, was it so necessary to get upset? You made your lovely date leave."
no subject
Sigh. Just like that, another part of the day turned sour. There was simply no fun in this world anymore, was there?
Still, he had Grell to play with, as it were. It was better than nothing, despite the murderous vibes he was sending the Nobody's way (which Luxord made good at ignoring). "Strange of you to say that," he began, smiling as always. "I still see her right in front of me." No harm in being charming. "And who would not be upset at finding that bother still maintains his level of persistence? Action needs to be taken, love."
no subject
That left him, however, with the flirtatious Nobody who had, until a moment ago, been focusing attention on the Lady General. Were blonds really that much more fun? She didn't look fun. Unless you called running laps and fighting wars "fun." Grell much preferred the clean-up of war to the actual messy business of it himself.
And cleaning up this mess compared to some of the things the Londoners did? It was easy in comparison.
Raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Luxord, the death god again checked the area and then chucked the disguise altogether. "If you think being a flirt now will save you from me ripping your throat out later? You'll have to try a little harder than that." Picking up the unfortunately blunt knife from the table, Grell twirled it in his hand, leaning back in the chair to cross his legs. He wished he could rid himself of the hairtie and the glasses, but his nurse would probably throw a fit. "And I never said it was him - although he makes a handy scapegoat. Perhaps I'll let your lady friend think it is that disgusting vigilante and have her take care of him for us."
no subject
Grell could try to kill him if he wished. It would at least be a fun game, if nothing else. Besides, he could not say he would mind feeling just how sharp those teeth were once again.
Nod. "True enough. As my original plans for him had fallen apart as easily as a house of cards, perhaps misleading Ms. Chere's attention would be for the better. I do doubt Mr. Tim would be kind enough to not make it a fight to the death, so one can assume that, should Ms. Chere fail, it would at least cause you joy.
"If you do not mind my intrusion, however," he tilted his head, eying the other curiously, "who did attack you? Not another vigilante, I hope?"
no subject
Leaning forward, Grell dropped his chin in his hand with a pout and let his eyes wander the restaurant. There were a lot of people in here, some whom he knew and some he didn't, but there was one thing they all had in common. He couldn't tell when their time was slated to come. It was frustrating for a death god to not be able to read a person's life and know their death. Next to his scythe, that was what he missed the most.
Sighing, the death god blew a strand of hair out of his face and tapped a finger against his cheek out of boredom. "Don't misunderstand me, love, I don't dislike her. She was just my rival for your attention. And, of course, nothing would cause me more joy than to see everyone here lying in a pool of their own blood, but she's not exactly top of the list."
When Luxord asked who attacked him, Grell slid his gaze over, peering at the Nobody over the edge of his frames. "No, merely the man who nearly killed me before I arrived here." Suddenly sitting up straight, Grell raised a hand, delicately touched his fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes, sighing in lament. "I could have loved him, if only he and I weren't born of different worlds! He, destined to devour the souls of the innocent. Me, to reap them and send them along to Heaven!"
The hand dropped and Grell shrugged, giving up the Juliet act. "...That and if he wasn't such a complete twat about that runt of his. Unfortunately, where the loyal dog goes, so does the master and that brat ordered my death; and he has this thing about following orders to the letter. So you, my dear, are safe, unless someone ratted you out as well and the Earl Phantomhive decides to be particularly vindictive."
no subject
Though the gesture with the knife did remind him that, yes, they were in a restaurant and, yes, they should perhaps order something. Luxord didn't particularly feel as if this diner would anything more substantial than the institute did (he would much rather cook his own food if he could, really. Why was that? Perhaps too much time spent with II...) though, so this processed, mundane business was not really rubbing him the right way. He had every right to be apprehensive of their meals.
In any case.
"I see," he said casually with a nod of his head, still toying with that card. It shouldn't surprise him that anyone from the God's world would also wish him dead, but it was a small comfort to know that Mr. Tim had not taken upon his offer to attack just yet. "Will you be alright?" Not that Luxord was offering to help.
no subject
Grell knew that Luxord held no love lost for him, or any love at all. A man without a heart had that little problem. Sometimes it was appealing and sometimes, Grell would like to at least pretend there was something deeper to Luxord's words. It was unfortunate, however, that he couldn't delude himself that much.
Such a shame.
Shrugging his shoulders again, Grell waved his hands dismissively and leaned back in his seat. Only to wince and sit forward again. Right. He'd nearly forgotten how Sebastian had driven his knee right into his back. He probably had an ugly bruise there to match the rest of them. "I won't die, if that's what you're worried about, love. It's a bit harder to kill me than that. But what of you? If my identity is revealed, won't it blow your cover as well with our lovely stalker? And unfortunately for you, you're a bit easier to kill than I am."