damned_institute | DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

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DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

There was something fishy going on in the Institute today. All over the bulletin board, people were talking about having "woken up", having been "cured"... and it seemed as though ZEX was one of them. Tanaka wouldn't have recognized the note at all if it hadn't been signed - his wording, his handwriting, even his name had changed - and a part of him still wondered if it had been an imposter, trying to pull the wool over the Captain's allies.

But it'd be easy enough to find out the truth. Whoever it was had agreed to meet him, and Tanaka was waiting for him just outside the cafeteria doors, ready to catch him as he came from breakfast. If "Max" was an imposter, then he'd discover the identity of a hidden enemy. And if he was really ZEX...

...well, he'd have a whole new set of things to worry about.

[for a ~~spoiled rich brat~~ brainwashed Admiral]

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Kibitoshin could be a singularly infuriating man when he wanted to be, but Franziska felt much better after hitting him. Now she had little to do for the day since the only thing she really needed was only capable of being accomplished at night. So for the day, she was fairly free.

Which meant she could take the day to catch up with certain people - one of whom she saw in the Sun Room as she went on her way to check the bulletin board. Veering off course, she moved toward his location, her journal held in her off-hand. Hopefully Rude of the Turks would be a little smarter than the Guardian of the Universe when it came to her. "Well, it seems you're still doing well," she said, coming to a stop near him.

Rude was in a world of his own when Franziska approached, and so his exit from that world was a little abrupt. With a little start, Rude looked up at the woman and felt his will to live suddenly draining away.

A shifty glance this way and that and he found he was pretty much alone. Where the hell was Reno? Cissnei? Anyone?!

Rude shrugged and nodded at Franziska. Sure, he was doing well a moment ago. Apparently she was...still on form and all that. Out of the desire to just be polite and get this over with, he signaled towards her and returned the sentiment.

"Look at the person who is speaking to you, Rude of the Turks, or I may begin to think you're searching for help." Franziska emphasized her point with a snap of her fingers, as if drawing his attention back to where it belonged. It felt eerily similar to her father though and she decided then and there that it would be the last time she did it. He would not be flattered with the imitation in the least.

When Rude gestured to her, she took it as a sign that he was ready to initiate conversation and pulled out the chair across from him, sitting down. She placed her journal on the table and took out a pen, scratching in a few notes from her earlier conversation. "As you can see, I'm just fine. Tell me, what have you been up to lately? Anything useful?"

Goddamn. He wasn't a dog. Why'd she do that fingersnap at him? It had the desired affect though, he was looking at her. And trying very hard not to scowl as she sat down.

Useful....useful.... we'll, he'd started on the rum he'd grabbed from Zombieville. Besides that? He lifted his journal a little with another small shrug. Just the explosives.

Franziska was used to being unliked, so having Rude give her that look hardly phased her. She could make allies when it suited her, but so far? She hadn't found a reason. She was busy with her investigation and unless any of them here held the key to her case, they were merely distractions.

His journal. If she remembered, he kept quite a bit of useful information in there. And if he wasn't going to tell her about it directly? She held a hand out for his journal and waited expectantly for him to place it in her outstretched palm. In the place of conversation, she would just read what she needed.

Rude stared. Bitch wasn't getting the whole damn thing. He had, you know, stuff in there. Important stuff. Like a couple of....kinda dumb doodles.

Goddamn. Just say the word.

"Bombs."

"Then say so in the beginning," she snapped, pulling her hand back. Honestly, what a useless, annoying man. First, he hardly talked and second? When Franziska was willing to allow him to remain silent and just let her see what she needed, he wouldn't give it to her. "Consider this a warning, Rude of the Turks. If you waste my time again by not speaking up, I won't take the time to ask."

Bombs were the last thing Franziska was interested in, too. Sitting back in her seat, she opened her journal and looked over her list of items, wondering just where the hell she was going to find candles. Or the right sort of powder. The maps Rude had given her earlier weren't exactly detailed on that sort of thing - or anything really. Which required getting information from someone, and the only person around was the taciturn man right in front of her. Very well then. "I require candles." She set her journal down on the table, opening them to her maps, each hallway perfectly drawn in straight lines. "Show me where you think they might be."

...So...if he kept quiet, she'd leave him alone?

It went quiet and Rude was starting to relax, just a little, when she spoke again. He looked at her and then at the maps. And back at her. His head wasn't tilted, but there was a definite question in his features.

"Why candles?"

Oh, man. Maybe she was gonna set up a romantic date or something. That was kinda weird and cute.... Rude rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. It couldn't be that. So...did she just need light or was it something else? The easiest option for that was stealing some bastards torch or finding batteries.

A question? Hmph, she could allow that one even if he was rubbing the back of his neck like he had no idea what she was thinking. "I require aluminum powder - a quick homemade recipe is to mix starch powder with soot. Thus, candles."

The explanation was simple enough and she pointed to her journal again, indicating the maps. Rude had been here longer than her and was making bombs of all things. He had to know the location of fire (other than going into the kitchens and lighting things there, which would leave her in the open) and candles, if not starch powder or any of the other ingredients she needed. "Tell me where to find them."

Rude nodded. Why the hell she needed it, he wasn't sure. But whatever. He probably had soot in his room still from his experiments. But a candle made more sense. Meant she wouldn't have to keep bothering him.

He looked at the map again but still didn't point. "You going alone?" he asked. Totally not looking at her. Might make it seem like he cared, but he was just curious. Get her out the way if something happened, but he wasn't so much of a bastard he wanted people getting hurt. He just happened to hurt people in his live of work was all. Business.

Why was he stalling? Did he not know where to find something so simple as candles when he had enough explosives to make bombs? If nothing else, she knew where his room was, and worst case scenario, she would go over and just take--acquire some from him. And why ask if she was going alone? Franziska narrowed her eyes and rapped her hand against the journal. "I don't see how that is of your concern, Rude of the Turks. Answer my question or suffer the consequences."

After last night when the Detective failed to show and today when she had yet to see his frightened form skulking off to some corner, Franziska was beginning to wonder if he hadn't been eaten by a giant cat. Or a large roach or something. Or just her luck, he got lost and ran into a wall. "And, if you know where I can find materials to construct a tracking device and receiver. Tell me."

Wow. Just, endlessly frustrating. Rude shrugged and decided he wasn't concerned at all. let her do what she wanted. Although... he might check around tonight for candles. Just 'cause they were useful and stuff.

Rude pulled the map closer and studied it. He eventually pointed to the storage rooms. Power failure back up, that kinda thing. They were bound to have something somewhere. And then there was the church. Not exactly common back home, but it seemed to fit. Religion, altars, worship. Usually involved candles. He gave a shrug to let her know he wasn't certain, but...it seemed most likely.

The second question... he thought about.
"Radios. Maybe if there's an electrician's closet." He was pretty sure there was supposed to be some kind of crazy Doctor who liked electronics.

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DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

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