Venom wanted to say this day was a productive one, but what had been accomplished, aside from gaining a headache and too many questions he couldn't answer? It might have been too much to ask for all of the answers within the first 24 hours, but he had honestly been used to having files upon files of information on everything. Being left in the dark this way, in an unknown location, in an unknown time, was...
His head hurt. Nurse was not helping.
"Vincent," she said in a whiny tone as they walked to where he could only assume his cell was the night before, "please stop looking so dour! It isn't so bad being here, you know. I know it can feel like a prison and be restricting, but... think of it this way: you don't have to stress over work. You can spend time on yourself!" She chuckled. Stop it, woman. Stop talking. Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. "Give your mind some time to refresh itself! Ha! I wish I could do the same. My sister? And, this is between us, she's a pregnant mess. I've been having to listen to her jabber on for months-"
"I can't even imagine how that feels."
"-and all she does it complain about how hard everything is!"
This is why he never practiced sarcasm. It never worked. "Why are you talking to me?"
"Well!" She stopped him in front of door M23 and handed him a tray. Staring at her like he wished to divine some reason as to why she was so annoying did not have a high probability of working. "This is it. Your roommate should be here soon, so try to get along and at least make one friend, okay?" He moved back when she attempted to pat him on the shoulder, took his earlier confiscated journal out of her hands, and ducked into the room, closing the door before she could say anything else.
Nurses may not like difficult patients, but he would give up the Guild before listening to her for one more minute. There was something about women that he just found himself cursed with. Millia was a likely source of this anger (but Millia was a likely source for all of his anger).
With a sigh, the assassin moved to the bed and sat down. Since no one was here, it didn't matter if he briefly pulled his hair from his face to eat something (though the intercom's constant reminders that it was a high quality made him wary. If they were trying to brainwash him...) in between writing things down. There had to be something he could puzzle out before night came...
M23
His head hurt. Nurse was not helping.
"Vincent," she said in a whiny tone as they walked to where he could only assume his cell was the night before, "please stop looking so dour! It isn't so bad being here, you know. I know it can feel like a prison and be restricting, but... think of it this way: you don't have to stress over work. You can spend time on yourself!" She chuckled. Stop it, woman. Stop talking. Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. "Give your mind some time to refresh itself! Ha! I wish I could do the same. My sister? And, this is between us, she's a pregnant mess. I've been having to listen to her jabber on for months-"
"I can't even imagine how that feels."
"-and all she does it complain about how hard everything is!"
This is why he never practiced sarcasm. It never worked. "Why are you talking to me?"
"Well!" She stopped him in front of door M23 and handed him a tray. Staring at her like he wished to divine some reason as to why she was so annoying did not have a high probability of working. "This is it. Your roommate should be here soon, so try to get along and at least make one friend, okay?" He moved back when she attempted to pat him on the shoulder, took his earlier confiscated journal out of her hands, and ducked into the room, closing the door before she could say anything else.
Nurses may not like difficult patients, but he would give up the Guild before listening to her for one more minute. There was something about women that he just found himself cursed with. Millia was a likely source of this anger (but Millia was a likely source for all of his anger).
With a sigh, the assassin moved to the bed and sat down. Since no one was here, it didn't matter if he briefly pulled his hair from his face to eat something (though the intercom's constant reminders that it was a high quality made him wary. If they were trying to brainwash him...) in between writing things down. There had to be something he could puzzle out before night came...