Day 43: Arts & Crafts Room (4th Shift)

[hajike-tobiume.livejournal.com]

When Momo left Hitsugaya's side, she felt both relieved to be away from him and disappointed that the nurses had separated them. Either way, she felt like she was suffocating, that she had too much building in her mind with all this on top of the message she'd been given by the undead knight on that rooftop the night before. There was only one way for Momo to relieve the pressure.

After leaving a note on the board for Senna, Momo headed into the Arts & Crafts room. She was still in a lot of pain, but Hitsugaya's healing, though minor, did make it much less painful to hold things. Taking all of the special markers, she stood before the large white board and uncapped the lightest of the colors - yellow.

Save thyself.

Those words would echo in Momo's mind for a very long time. She had much to thank the knight for, the least of which was leaving her right arm relatively undamaged. She needed it for many things, being her primary hand, but right now she needed it for one thing.

Momo began to draw.

[reserved for Senna]

Comments

[winged_moon]

The discussion with Allelujah had left Yukito with something to think about, so he was only halfway paying attention to where the nurse was leading him. She was talking to him about something, and he nodded absently - then half a second later wondered what he'd just agreed to.

He found out when she led him into the Arts & Crafts room, setting a pile of supplies on the table in front of him before giving him a pat on the shoulder and heading off on...whatever the nurses did when they weren't fussing over their charges. Yukito blinked after her, then down at the pile of paper and supplies, and wondered just what she expected him to do now.

At least he didn't have a visitor this week. That was most definitely something to be grateful for. But as he picked up a piece of pink paper, he couldn't help but remember the last time he'd been in here, helping Ururu with whatever project she'd been working on, and she'd asked him to join the group that was trying to find the people who'd disappeared.

It seemed that now she was on that list, as well. Hopefully they'd have some success soon.

After a second Yukito shook his head firmly, pushing away the piece of paper and poking through the other supplies he'd been given. If he kept dwelling on things like that he'd end up brooding and grumpy as Yue I am not grumpy and that just wouldn't do at all.

[for Jamie]

[wildunderstress.livejournal.com]

Jamie was not an artistic person, and hadn't done "arts and crafts" since he'd grown out of coloring books roughly ten years ago. Regardless he let his nurse lead him into the room and over to a table, figuring it would do no good to protest it. Besides, he wanted to keep as low a profile as possible and avoid attracting any undue attention - and he supposed it was just as well he wasn't spending the afternoon sedated again after Wild Eagle'd gotten out that morning...

Geez, will you let it go? the alter snapped. I was TRYIN' to get us out of here yesterday. Which is more'n you seem to've been doing for however the hell long you've been here. You ain't gonna accomplish anything by playin' it safe all the time, y'know.

Jamie flinched a little, which he did his best to conceal by raking a hand through his hair, and muttered under his breath, "Just...be quiet. All right?"

Briefly he feigned interest in a haphazard stack of paper on the table in front of him as he tried to compose himself, and then shot a glance and a nervous half-grin at the table's other occupant, who didn't seem much more excited than Jamie himself at the prospect of playing with art supplies. "...mn. Hi."

[winged_moon]

The room was staying pretty empty today, it seemed - maybe that was why the nurse had dragged him in there? Did they maybe have some kind of room quota to fill? Yukito amused himself with that thought for a moment as he idly poked at a container of dried macaroni. He'd much rather have it cooked and eaten it than turned it into some kind of strange art project, but...well, it wasn't as though he had anything else pressing to do right now.

Two others in the room seemed to be arguing over something, though he couldn't really hear what they were saying, and Yukito's attention was focused in that direction with a small worry that maybe someone should intervene, when he was distracted again by the arrival of someone else at his table. He wasn't about to object to company (of the friendly sort, that was; he'd read some interesting things about other patients on the board lately) and he directed a cheerful grin in the young man's direction.

"Afternoon," he observed, gesturing toward the pile of seemingly random supplies on the table in front of him. "Ever dreamed of making necklaces out of dry pasta? If so, you're set." There was even glitter to decorate it with, if someone wanted to pick it up off the floor. Someone had apparently been having a lot of fun last shift.

[wildunderstress.livejournal.com]

Wild Eagle seemed utterly flabbergasted at the idea of making jewelry out of food and reflected the notion that anyone who actually did so probably belonged in the mental institution. Jamie, as was becoming habit for him, ignored his alter and managed a weak smile. "That, uh. Isn't really something I've ever thought about doing, to be honest. Seems kinda silly." He shrugged a bit and nudged at the stack of paper in front of him. "Not that I understand the point of most of this. Unless it's just one more thing they're doing to confuse us."

[kingside]

Lelouch hadn't wanted to move at all after Nunnally left, but with more patients and visitors alike on their way into the room, his nurse had insisted upon it. She'd also barred him from retiring to his room for the night, saying that the last thing he needed in his current state was to be left alone. The most she let him do was drop off the string of cranes Nunnally had given him, and while the temporary almost-solitude did give him some more time to recover, it wasn't enough.

There was only one place in the institute Lelouch wanted to visit after that, and with one last lingering look at Nunnally's gift, he started walking to the arts and crafts room, not caring whether or not his nurse kept up. It wouldn't be the same as being alone, but if there were at least fewer people there-- he couldn't face anyone right now, especially not anyone he knew.

His already bowed head dipped even lower when he spotted Euphy in the sun room out of the corner of his eye, but hopefully before she could notice him, he made it to his destination and searched out a perfectly square sheet of pink construction paper. A purple sheet soon joined it, and without even acknowledging the other people in the room, Lelouch found a chair in the far corner of the room and began to fold.

[For Suzaku.]

[superdynamic.livejournal.com]

Suzaku did feel a little better after his talk with Sen, miraculously enough. Of course, "better" was completely relative, because nothing could really fix the feeling of being ripped to shreds. Not to mention having to pretend he was still whole, for her sake. But what was left of him had rediscovered some element of determination, and while Sen hadn't actually been referring to Lelouch when she'd told Suzaku to talk to his friend, the idea was in his head now and it wasn't leaving any time soon. If Lelouch was going to be an idiot, Suzaku would just find him and beat some sense into him.

The most frustrating thing, Suzaku thought as he stalked through the Sun Room and checked the Game Room, was that Lelouch's actions didn't even make sense on a logical level. That was rare enough already, but when it came to Euphie? Lelouch had already proven he could use her with inhuman levels of ruthlessness. If he felt anything for her, it was an emotion of little consequence that could be easily overridden. So Suzaku had no idea why he'd make such a strategically stupid move like dismissing his knight. It was almost funny that now that Suzaku had learned to make use of cold reason, Lelouch abandoned it.

Unless -- did he think Suzaku wasn't fit as a knight anymore? Or at least that he wouldn't be fit now that Euphie was here, if he would be focusing on her all the time? Did Lelouch honestly think he didn't need Suzaku? For God's sake -- that couldn't be true, it just couldn't. Then again, Suzaku had already betrayed him enough times that Lelouch would have reason to believe he couldn't rely on him.

Suzaku bit his lip, angrily slamming the door of the library after quickly determining Lelouch wasn't in there. (His nurse, still trailing along behind him, called out in admonishment, but he ignored her.) Finally, the Arts and Crafts room rewarded his search. He was pissed enough at this point to punch Lelouch in the face, but he knew that would just get him sedated, and goddammit, why wasn't he ever allowed to show anything he felt? The strain of hiding everything was grating on his frayed nerves, and he felt about ready to snap, if his angry outbursts on the board earlier didn't already count.

"Lelouch," he nearly snarled, stomping over to the other boy and grabbing his shoulder none-too-gently. He jerked him up from the chair with little regard for whatever Lelouch had been doing, so the other boy would have to face him. "What the hell is your pro --" And that's when he got a good look at Lelouch's eyes. "-- blem. . ."

Suzaku trailed off, completely at a loss. He just stared, unable to believe that Lelouch had cried not once, but twice since they'd gotten here, when he'd always envisioned him as -- being made of stone, or something like that. The shock was nearly painful; he'd almost made himself forget Lelouch's reaction that first night, and the things he'd said the night after. It brought into sharp relief what Euphie had said about him that morning. He just -- he couldn't -- Lelouch had a heart somewhere in there, that much was sure, but he'd still done all those terrible things. Suzaku couldn't forget that. And he couldn't let Lelouch walk away, either. And he couldn't bring himself to yell at Lelouch when he looked like this, either! Which left him with -- what? Why did everything have to be so complicated?!

"What happened?" he finally asked, roughly, but the hardness in his expression was mostly forced at this point. Because he just didn't even know how to react.

[kingside]

Why was it that no matter what side the two of them were fighting on, Suzaku always managed to arrive at precisely the wrong moment? Walking in on Lelouch while he was in the middle of folding a paper crane wasn't nearly as bad as flying directly overhead just as he shot Euphemia, but with the day he'd been having so far-- he should have made more of an effort to convince his nurse to let him stay in his room.

He didn't resist as he was pulled him to his feet, seeing little to no point in trying when he knew he wouldn't have succeeded even if he'd given it his all. That didn't mean he contributed anything to the motion, though, and once standing, he didn't bother making eye contact. He wasn't in the mood for this, and Suzaku wanted to have this confrontation now, he was going to be severely disappointed.

Whatever anger the knight felt seemed to evaporate fairly quickly, though, and surprised at this sudden change, Lelouch ventured a short glance at him before straightening and pulling away. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he replied, doing his best to remain impassive. He wasn't about to tell Suzaku what was wrong after he'd just dismissed him, so the sooner he got rid of him-- he just wanted to finish his crane in peace, damn it. He had enough to deal with just thinking about Nunnally, what the institute had done to her, and what he had to do once he got out of here without having to-- what the fuck did Suzaku want from him, anyway? Wasn't it enough that he was leaving Euphy alone? The least Suzaku could do was extend the same courtesy to him.

"Besides, you have other matters to attend to, don't you?" Lelouch continued, his voice growing colder. "Unless you intend to abandon those duties, I suggest you leave."

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

"Query: Don't you think I've had enough trauma and humiliation today already?" HK couldn't quite find the will to continue his campaign of terror against his nurse at the moment. But...

Waitamicrosecond. There were those color styluses somewhere around here. He could recreate scenes from last night's carnage in even more vivd detail! He grabbed one stylus of every color and first did a test sheet in his notepad to see how the colors blended. There were some subtle hues of zombie flesh that just couldn't be captured with one cheery color alone!

Once he'd determined what resources he had to work with, he turned to a fresh sheet of paper and began drawing as only a droid could: With absolute accuracy and detail. He started out with a picture of that moment when Lockdown had ripped a zombie's head off. As much as the very idea of the other inorganic was making him feel just slightly nervous at the moment, because he liked his virginity and he wanted to keep it... It had been an impressive display of violence!

[For Yukari!]

[mind-the-sukima.livejournal.com]

Tired was a word that could describe how Yukari felt. Drained was another. Her feelings after her visitors were ambivalent on the whole matter, not quite amused or afraid but indubitably muddled. There were no clear borders defining the mix of emotions she felt, other than the aching gap within her heart that she may have, were she a lesser being, such as a human, called "loneliness".

Now wasn't the time to consider it, to become lost in her thoughts and be pushed around in a semi-catatonic state by her nurse. Now, she pushed those emotions back to be sorted out later at her leisure. Now was the time to cheer herself up with one of her favorite hobbies: harassing the heck out of some poor soul who may or may not deserve it.

And what better time to spot her favorite galactic robot assassin! Gliding on over - a skill of movement she had mastered some centuries ago but rarely used since she so rarely actually walked on the ground - Yukari peered over the man's shoulder at his rather graphic drawing.

"Compliment: That's a very... detailed drawing there," she noted with a hint of a smile. The zombies reminded her that she needed to check in on that girl when she got the chance and make sure none of that funny business about infectious zombie tendencies wasn't something she'd have to worry about.

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

The drawing was making him feel much better, reminding him that there was always violence to be had, somewhere. And--

He didn't wince at the use of his speech prefixes this time, that was actually a fairly reasonable use of them. But it was coming from a meatbag. "Greeting: Hello, meatbag. Statement: It is a graphical representation of a kill from last night. Since we last conversed, I have managed to find some of the more interesting inorganics in this place to kill with." Although Lockdown was doing an excellent job at actually scaring HK, what with the impending sense of doom that the approach of the next shift was bringing him. Being locked in a small box with the bounty hunter at the moment seemed like an unfortunate idea.

[rope-victim.livejournal.com]

Miku felt a little better by the time she left Keman and the library. He was a nice person to be so concerned about a relative stranger like herself. But now that the shift had changed, she went to the next room and sat down at an unoccupied table with black felt pieces, safety scissors, a hole punch, yarn and a plastic yarn needle which was dull and basically useless for anything except crafts.

She had wanted to busy herself, and since origami was out of the question (she didn't feel like dealing with a papercut), a pair of cat ears seemed like a cute thing to make. They would be cute on Ritsuka, she decided.

[For Peter and Kaoru ♥]

[tightsofmight]

Peter had been dragged out of the room and virtually carried to the showers by a stoic orderly, his nurse giving him an earful about proper conducts and disturbing the other patients on the way. It kind of sucked. He wanted to thank that lady. Crazy as she was, it was nice to laugh and goof off like a kid again. Muck around in the finger paints. He'd leave her a note on the bulletin, for sure.

While the opportunity to shower alone was a golden one here, the way the water echoed on the tiles was giving him the creeps. Emptiness made the room larger. Peter hunched under the stream, lips a tight line as he hurriedly scrubbed away any trace of the fight, ignoring the wetness under his feet and what it brought to mind. Dead and buried...

Sobered and silent, Peter let the nurse scrub his hair with a towel, change his bandages, and lead him back into the Sun Room with the instructions to not disrupt the peace again.

He didn't stay for long. A familiar face wandered by on her way to the Arts and Crafts Room - Miku. Peter stared after her for a moment. Her note this morning had worried him; she didn't say what had happened to her friend. Just that he was gone. If it was anything like what happened to him, then maybe...maybe she needed someone to talk to. Someone who could relate. If not, it couldn't hurt just to check on her. She seemed so small. Alone.

Skirting around the nurses, he padded softly after her, halting at the chair opposite and offering a smile. "Hey."

[rope-victim.livejournal.com]

Miku looked up him from her pieces of felt and tried to smile. It looked more a grimace, but she'd at least tried. It was too soon to smile, she knew, it would be like totally ignoring the fact Sousuke had been alive at all. "Hello, Peter-san," she greeted. "Do you want to sit?" She wasn't sure if it would be better or worse for her, really, but maybe she could do without listening to the voice in her head that blamed her for all of this.

Her fingers moved constantly; cutting felt, measuring it, and hoping it didn't look too ridiculous.

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

Howl found it impossible not to follow Ryuuzaki's advice to not choose a location too far away. The nurses kept him on a short leash, and it was beginning to fray his nerves. He had snapped at this most recent one for treating him like a child, and then immediately regretted it. She seemed no worse off for it, but Howl was in no hurry to face disciplinary actions.

However, any such cautionary instincts went out the window when Howl could find no rulers. Presumably because he might somehow inadvertently skewer himself with it. But with Howl's face twisted and flushed from frustration, the nurse he questioned seemed more concerned that he might intentionally skewer someone else. It was nearly all that he could handle, and honestly, Howl thought he had handled quite a bit that day. His behavior had been admirable, despite being kidnapped and then told he was either insane or in some twisted inter-dimensional catch-all. He might even say he had bordered on saintly.

"This is an embarrassing charade! Atrocious! With staff of this caliber, it's no wonder that your charges are pictures of mental health!" He called dramatically after the nurse, who, as anyone dealing with a child on the edge of a tantrum would do, mostly ignored him. Howl decided to return the favor, and violently pulled out a pair of scissors and something colorful in a plastic package. He took all of his frustration out on the packaging, until he had produced a flimsy length of plastic with a perfectly straight edge. Next, a black marker assisted him in laying out measurements as accurately as he could manage.

Being meticulous while making still sure everyone who glanced at him realized how unfairly, cruelly and inhumanely you were being treated was difficult, but somehow Howl managed it. He was practically seething over every centimeter.

[Free, but kind of in a snit.]

[adorkabledragon.livejournal.com]

[late, but this okay?]

Keman would have liked to spend more time with Mr. Shakespeare, but his nurse seemed to think it was "unnatural" for a boy his age (to which he almost replied, "twenty-seven?") to spend so much time curled up in a corner, reading. He hadn't even had time to mark his page when the blasted woman lead him off! He knew that he'd been somewhere in Act II (or was it Act III?) of Titus Andronicus, but beyond that, he couldn't say. There were so many people being murdered, maimed, and raped that he couldn't keep it all straight.

Maybe it was a good thing that he'd stopped reading when he did. He hadn't really enjoyed all that bloodshed.

The nurse sat him down in the Arts and Crafts room with a box of crayons that were supposedly "non-toxic" and a pile of construction paper with the extremely vague order, "draw your feelings." Even after over three weeks in this place, he still didn't understand what that meant, so he settled on sketching the people around him. The man nearest him was Keman's first suject/victim. He looked thoroughly put out over something, and it made for some interesting body language to try to capture.

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

[Totally! ♥]

Howl could vaguely see that someone had sat near him, at the behest of one of those insufferable nurses. Before arriving at the institution, Howl thought he had already met all of the worst members of the fairer sex. This place seemed determined to prove him wrong. If he had been thinking clearly, he might have reluctantly acknowledged that no nurse had ever berated him for being a useless embarrassment, put a curse on him for jilting her or cleaned his home. He did indeed consider the last one a great offense.

Regardless, it all had very little bearing on the fact that the young man who had sat nearby was drawing him. Howl felt simultaneously flattered and uncomfortable. He suddenly felt the need to move, but he was still dedicated to looking very angry, which made it difficult to casually walk around and escape being captured on paper.

"Are you going to need me to sit still?" He asked in a voice that suggested he may or may not agree to do so.

[bring-thewaters.livejournal.com]

This wasn't a Company facility, Adam thought, as the nurse led him out of his room and down the hall. She didn't try to make small talk and neither did Adam. He watched her, made note of every turn they made, every door they passed, committing it all to memory. If this was a Company facility, he reasoned, it was one that had been instituted in the last thirty years. Not an inconsiderable feat, judging by the size of what he'd seen so far, but not an impossible one, with the resources the Company held.

The nurse, Janet, stopped in front of a door, opened it and ushered Adam inside. He looked over the room, round tan tables were scattered across it, people seated at some of them. The rooms occupants were as diverse as the lives Adam himself had lived. Were these all Specials, held here for one reason or another? How long had he been unconscious? Ten minutes, ten days, ten weeks? Were these people who had been rounded up in the aftermath of the virus, or just people being held by the Company? He'd never heard of a facility that held people like this, and again his thoughts touched on the only place he could think of that would be laid out in such a manner, complete with a room like this one.

Cutting into his thoughts, Janet dictated to him that he was here for some kind of expressive art therapy and pulled out a chair, indicating that he should sit. Adam complied with the directive, mind whirling with possibility. He needed more information - he could only observe now, decisions were for later when he'd learned a little more. There was paper in front of him, and a motley assortment of markers (red, yellow, two greens and a black) lay in front of him. Janet smiled at him and left, leaving him with instructions to have a good time and that she'd be back for him later.

Adam picked up a sheet of paper and began to fold, letting his mind wander as his hands went through the familiar motions.

[givemeoblivion.livejournal.com]

[Taking a character off hiatus. Just for this.]

The schedule on Sundays was completely different from the norm. The week before apparently hadn't been a one-time deal. It was a complete mess, what with the new voice over the intercom, the patients being disturbed by those that claimed to be loved ones, the new batch of unfortunates that happened to arrive just today... Having activities in an unusual order was the least of their problems.

Callisto was enjoying it, really. Things were actually picking up around here, what with the events of the night before that hadn't lasted nearly long enough to be as enjoyable as they could have been. She was going to make the best of the situation and try to find some other new face like the girl at brunch. Someone had to set them on the right track.

She allowed her nurse to lead her wherever, and that just happened to be Arts and Crafts. She'd never particularly understood this activity. As little as she knew about real art, she didn't believe any real artist would be caught dead using these materials, so what was the point?

Sitting down across from someone she was certain she'd never seen around, the blonde dismissed her nurse unnecessarily with a brief shooing motion and sprawled into a chair across from him. "Enjoying yourself?"

[bring-thewaters.livejournal.com]

There was something about this woman that crawled under Adam's skin and lodged itself there, almost immediately; something about her that he just didn't like. There was a sort of arrogant ease in the way she carried herself that was, to him, like looking in a mirror for just a brief section - not something he registered cognitively, but a feeling that stayed nonetheless.

"About as much as a rat in a maze can," Adam said, the corner of his mouth raising in the faintest hint of a smile "once it becomes aware that it is, in fact, just that."

He glanced down at the finished piece in his hand - a perfectly folded paper crane. A thousand of them folded was said to grant the dedicated handicrafter to a wish - he'd even tried it once; he hadn't gotten past twenty of them or so before he got bored. Still, the art had stayed with him, bringing a certain sense of calm when indulged in. Something old and dark inside of Adam lingered just behind his eyes, just behind the serenity the folding had brought him.

"What about you?"

[windstwilight.livejournal.com]

[late and stealing the Momo.]

She felt heavy. Everything in her felt heavy. This was way too much, and so much of her was glad to be able to toss all of that responsibility aside. Though, she knew that wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The A&C room was familiar, though she hadn't stepped foot in it for almost a week. She had met Demyx here, resolved herself to go with the Nobodies if and when they left, and now she was meeting Momo here? Senna grimaced, the slightest touch of humor in it. Who said the universe couldn't have irony? She hadn't thought about that strange choice at all lately, especially now, and here it was basically thrown at her. The girl sighed as she walked in the room, hand rubbing at the back of her neck. Today... was a long day.

The Shinigami she was looking for was at a drawing board, sketching something in a light color. To Senna, creating meant life, and something in her shifted, squeezed tight to the hope for Momo that she had held on to. Maybe... she might be okay. Senna stepped up to her silently, hating to interrupt. The girl bit her lip uncertainly, remembering her own contribution to this room. Not supposed to exist. She hated it, had wrote it down, and found someone who was affected by the sentiment the same way. Did Momo, too, find someone once, that knew why she was drawing?

Senna had a suspicion. She wouldn't voice it for life, though she might have once. She had a suspicion. And she hoped that she was wrong. Maybe Momo had... found something that she lacked within the lines.

[hajike-tobiume.livejournal.com]

When Senna first arrived, Momo did not turn to her or even speak up. She could sense the other shinigami's presence, but she was focused on the board. It felt so amazing to be able to draw again. The sketch had developed into two figures, one shorter than the other and both both were slowly starting to appear female with the short defining strokes Momo was using.

She wished she could put her left hand to the board, to feel the surface as she drew, but that was something she could not. Her entire left arm was in a sling, though it did nothing to hide the heavy bandaging on the entire arm. Both her hands were wrapped in gauze such that someone with the right knowledge could tell that both were quite burned, though she appeared to hold the markers with less pain than one would expect. After a few more lines with the yellow, Momo's basic form had been sketched and it was time to switch to a different color, one to make more exact lines with. Coming to this natural pause, she turned from the board to Senna.

She moved slowly, as if breathing hurt, and there were several burns across her face and down her neck as if she'd been in the center of a blazing fire. Yet, there was an odd clarity to Momo's eyes that had been missing for nearly a week.

Setting the yellow down, Momo picked up the black marker. "Hello, Senna-san," she said, her voice quiet and raspy.

[windstwilight.livejournal.com]

She watched for a bit, at the figures appearing out of nothing, telling a story with the lines. Minutes passed, moments, and the girl remained still. Waiting for something that she didn't know. Momo turned then, shifted Senna's way, and Senna's eyes widened, mouth opening in surprise. How had...? Last night? There were fires, but something like this... Like she had been in the flames herself.

The other difference in Momo called attention from Senna as well, and Senna's expression slid into a kind of shifted-casual, one side of her mouth quirked upwards. The girl shifted her weight subtlety, and drew a hand up to rest on one hip. "So," she said with the same calm tone she had been using all day, with only the slightest trace of her normal good humor. "You look good. Have a productive night?"

[fear-attachment.livejournal.com]

Junpei was going to be okay. Once she'd made sure of that, Chidori lost any interest in checking up on anyone else. She was grateful to S.E.E.S for accepting her despite their history with Strega, and grateful to them for taking care of Junpei when she couldn't, but it was still difficult for her to care about them on a personal level when 'caring' was still such a new thing for her in the first place. Junpei would have said anything if any of them had died, so they were probably fine.

The chance to spend a little time in the Arts & Crafts room--childish and poorly supplied as it was--was of much more interest to Chidori than looking around for S.E.E.S, in any case. She had her sketchbook out, but hadn't really started drawing anything yet, as she poked through the other supplies she had access to in here. Crayons. Glitter. Really... not her style.

[Ryoji]

[nonametrump.livejournal.com]

After he'd said goodbye to Junpei, Ryoji had searched the bulletin board for the posts that Junpei had mentioned. He'd looked briefly at something about clubs before locating the primer, and was pleased to see that there were maps included with it.

He'd spent the rest of the shift checking out a few of the rooms that were connected to the Sun Room: first the library, and then the game room. He only briefly acknowledging the intercom when it made another announcement, and decided that it was time to go somewhere else. Deciding to skip the last room on that side for now, he made for the Arts & Crafts room.

The arts and crafts supplies of the room didn't catch his interest as he surveyed the room, but a girl in the room did, remembering what Junpei had said about a redhead who needed a white knight. Redhead? Check. Good-looking? Check. College chick? It was difficult to say.

Smiling, he approached the girl. "Hey," he said in greeting, noting that she was looking through the art supplies. "Looking for something in particular?"

[fear-attachment.livejournal.com]

Chidori frowned when someone interrupted her--another boy, as seemed to be so often the case--and she was all set to tell him to go away, but then she reminded herself that she was trying to be better with people so that Junpei wouldn't worry so much. Or have to apologise for her so often. "Not really. It's all rather childish."

Finding some chalk, Chidori decided that that would do--it would be interesting to experiment with mixing the white chalk and her usual charcoal.