L's conversation with Keman had been relatively simple, but useful, in its way. While the relative merits of feline companionship weren't worth discussing, he had been able to determine that Keman's experience the day before had been materially similar to his own: a replacement of his personality, coupled with an irrational unwillingness to credit logical arguments if they contradicted what he "knew" to be true. The difference was what had happened at night, and what it might mean.
He had also acquired information about healing. In another day, it would have been apparent anyway; still, even if he thought the mechanism was suspicious, it was good to know that he could expect the wound on his leg to vanish in short order. Between its rapid repair and the fact that he was favoring it, the pain had dulled to a stinging sensation.
He moved through the line, taking one slice of pineapple and ham pizza, a plate of salad, an indecent amount of fruit, and two cups of grape juice. When his tray was full, he made his way to a seat at a table apart from other people. A nurse tried to divert him on the way. He smiled at her, with no warmth in his eyes. "Yes, I have plans to meet a friend."
A repetition of his behavior at breakfast, and it seemed to be working, as long as the friends in question actually made an appearance. He watched the door as he began to eat.
L wasn't looking forward to the meeting he had planned, but the disaster that had been the previous day made it necessary. There was a lot of ground to cover. Laurier's story had to be demolished entirely; then, there was not only the question of events within the Institute, but the one of events at home. He hadn't had the opportunity for a second conversation with Matt.
Sunday had been like practicing at death. It was not a role he enjoyed, but he seemed to have a talent for it. He wanted to know the date of the scheduled performance.
no subject
He had also acquired information about healing. In another day, it would have been apparent anyway; still, even if he thought the mechanism was suspicious, it was good to know that he could expect the wound on his leg to vanish in short order. Between its rapid repair and the fact that he was favoring it, the pain had dulled to a stinging sensation.
He moved through the line, taking one slice of pineapple and ham pizza, a plate of salad, an indecent amount of fruit, and two cups of grape juice. When his tray was full, he made his way to a seat at a table apart from other people. A nurse tried to divert him on the way. He smiled at her, with no warmth in his eyes. "Yes, I have plans to meet a friend."
A repetition of his behavior at breakfast, and it seemed to be working, as long as the friends in question actually made an appearance. He watched the door as he began to eat.
L wasn't looking forward to the meeting he had planned, but the disaster that had been the previous day made it necessary. There was a lot of ground to cover. Laurier's story had to be demolished entirely; then, there was not only the question of events within the Institute, but the one of events at home. He hadn't had the opportunity for a second conversation with Matt.
Sunday had been like practicing at death. It was not a role he enjoyed, but he seemed to have a talent for it. He wanted to know the date of the scheduled performance.
[Mello.]