Day 46: Lunch

[tostepforward.livejournal.com]

The mere fact that she'd been susceptible to whatever hold the Institute had had on her yesterday was sufficient to leave Ayumu both upset and angry - no, not angry, downright furious, both at herself and whoever was responsible for that. But there was also the fact that because of it, she'd lost out on an entire day of work, and in several ways had ruined some of what she'd done already. That little conversation with Himura the day before, for instance, was something she'd sincerely prefer not to remember if she'd had any choice in the matter.

Unless the man was a complete moron, which, unfortunately, was one thing she couldn't believe of him, he had to have realized just who her brother was. After all the effort to keep that fact quiet (not exactly a secret, but certainly not advertised; half the Shinsengumi probably never even realized it because there was no reason to) she'd gone and chatted about it with him. Told him all about it, practically painted a bright target around a weakness that shouldn't have existed in the first place.

She'd spent the shift in the Sun Room pretending to sleep, while in truth forcing herself into calm. After years of practice she could shunt away the useless and distracting emotions, focusing only on what was important and needed to be at the forefront of her mind, and by the time the intercom signaled the lunch period she was feeling considerably calmer. The time to silently observe others had, as well, alerted her to something she probably should have noticed earlier: Mello was back. Would her previous objective be reinstated now? He seemed to have far less of a bulletin presence this time, so perhaps not. Still, though, it bore investigating.

None of her thoughts were visible, of course, as she moved through the line, examining the lunch selection somewhat dubiously. Now with the benefit of Yuuko's memories she might recognize the food, but she certainly didn't share the enthusiasm for it that her imaginary self apparently had. Ayumu skipped past that part and settled for the salad bar and some bread, then positioned herself in a place where she could watch both the door and the rest of the room, setting her journal open in front of herself as though planning to write something. There was far too much that she'd missed, too much work to do now.

[for Okita]

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[moral-liberty.livejournal.com]

Kaworu was reluctant to leave Shinji and Asuka, but his nurse was insistent that he not be allowed to remain with Shinji. It weighed uncomfortably on his shoulders, and he could not dismiss the memories he retained from Addison. The nurse could not, or would not, differentiate between them, and so his time with Shinji would be monitored, analyzed, judged.

At some point, he would have liked to speak with Asuka on her own, but as he was led into the cafeteria, he saw that she was already engaged in conversation with a different boy. He wanted to understand Asuka, as well as her bond with Shinji. There was something there. Kaworu imagined that she felt somewhat similar; Shinji was the only thing that connected them. At least, the only thing of depth. They had piloted the same Eva, sat in that same seat. They had walked the same halls. But their relationship was defined by one boy.

Kaworu wasn't excessively bothered, and it seemed that his nurse trusted him enough to allow him to pick out his own food and table. He had eaten very little that morning, as his thoughts had been entirely occupied over breakfast. Now, he could feel the sharpness of hunger.

Idly, Kaworu wondered if Otacon was there, and if he knew of Asuka as well. But when he looked, he couldn't see the familiar man anywhere. He frowned faintly at the crowd of faceless Lilim, and took a seat alone.

[Free; no limit.]

[forcalmeternal.livejournal.com]

Wait, so what was&mdash

...Er.

Broadcasting sphere? Microphone sphere? Who was that guy, who told them where to go?

Yuna walked into the cafeteria shaking her head. Another conversation unfinished...did the lady do that on purpose? Speaking of the lady... "Umm, what's your na—ack!" Yuna squeaked as a plate was plopped unceremoniously in her arms. "Um, I can do that my—

—self," Yuna finished as she was plopped into a chair by the shoulders. "Hey!" Yuna turned around in her (forced) seat, but the lady was already walking away. Yuna considered going after her, but the lady was being really obvious about being left alone, and, well, it would be rude to just walk away from...this person here, wouldn't it?

She smiled sheepishly at him as she turned back around. "Sorry about that."

[moral-liberty.livejournal.com]

Kaworu watched the exchange, as the young woman was unceremoniously left with him. His expression was blank until she looked at him properly, where he remembered to smile.

She was a stranger, and unlike many he had met in the past, she summoned up no memories. Not even vague remembered emotions. There were no Lilim to compare her, to besides the vaguest idea of a woman. It might have been her eyes which distanced her from all the others.

"There isn't any need to be." he stated. That reminded him of Shinji: An apology for something beyond their own control. But Kaworu could feel that he was reaching and straining. It was better to begin a new, without preconceptions.

He exhaled, and all of the ill-suited comparisons fell away. He didn't need them anymore.

"I've never seen you before," Kaworu said, with transparent curiosity.

[forcalmeternal.livejournal.com]

"Well, um..." How to say this? "I...got here...only just this morning...I think." She tilted her head. "It's the noon meal right now, right? Lunch?"

Yuna looked at what was apparently supposed to be food on her plate and wondered how she was supposed to eat it. She sneaked a look at people at other tables—apparently she had to pick it up? ...Leaving it for now, Yuna leaned across the table with a smile. "I'm Yuna! It's a pleasure to meet you!"

[moral-liberty.livejournal.com]

There was a note of sympathy that appeared on Kaworu's face, even as he reached out to accept her hand. Rather than shaking it, he squeezed her fingers gently. It suited the situation more than the crisp, professional handshakes of the researchers in his memory. There were many things they could express in that gesture, but in his experience, it was often distant respect or a silent proclamation of dominance.

"My name is Kaworu," he responded. "Do you wish for me to explain anything, Yuna?" A question which might have been otherwise awkward and formal, sounded as though Kaworu felt it were the most natural thing to say. He let go of her hand, after holding it a moment too long.