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damned_institute2010-01-02 10:02 am
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Entry tags:
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- zack,
- zex
Night 46: Main Hallway, 1-West
[from here]
Beatrix had walked this path to the Sun Room so many times, she could do it in complete darkness. Which was exactly what she was doing. Knowing the way, there was little need for light as it would only draw creatures and other unwanted attention. Silently counting her steps, at the right number, the assassin headed left and down the hallway.
[to here]
Beatrix had walked this path to the Sun Room so many times, she could do it in complete darkness. Which was exactly what she was doing. Knowing the way, there was little need for light as it would only draw creatures and other unwanted attention. Silently counting her steps, at the right number, the assassin headed left and down the hallway.
[to here]
no subject
As Remy emerged into the main hallway, and before he had the chance to turn left, he saw someone pause, turn to the wall, and bang his head against it.
It was a guy who had been walking a distance ahead of him in the hall... maybe around Linguini's age, and taller than Remy was now. He wasn't wearing the same clothes that most of the rest of the patients had.
If he kept it up, hitting his head on the wall, he was going to hurt himself, so Remy reluctantly ignored the impulse to go about his business: everyone had told him that he needed friends. In a tentative voice, he said, "Um... hi. You miiiiiight not want to... do that."
no subject
As some of his friends would have it, such stupidity wasn't too far off from the norm. More accurately, they probably would have thought that this was so typically Scott that it hurt. But they weren't here now, were they? Clearly this was an isolated incident and not at all an indication of how he was normally. Totally. Take that, absent friends.
Speaking of absent friends: Scott was probably going to need someone to travel with if Indy wasn't going to be around. Nose Neil here was handy enough, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to ask. "Related to that, IIIIIIII kinda sorta don't have anywhere to go now. You have any good ideas on places to check out?"
no subject
Then again, someone who was frustrated about a "case of the stupids" probably didn't want to be stupid, right? And it wasn't that they were stupid all the time, it was that they'd been smart enough to catch their own stupidity before winding up in a jar or something.
-- Yeah, Remy could sympathize with that.
Since this guy might not be a complete idiot, and there were cats in the Sun Room (where it hadn't been sunny at all earlier in the day), and the guy was even taller than Remy's new body, he made a decision to continue the conversation. That might mean having company for the night, but that would be all right.
"I want to go to the kitchen: the one where they make our food, which, I might add, they could season more thoughtfully.
"Have you been here long? Everyone I've met so far tells me it's reaaaaalllllly daaaaaaaangerous" -- he wiggled his fingers in the air to emphasize this -- "but I haven't seen anything scary yet. I just want to cook something."
no subject
Or, as Scott preferred to summarize it: GODDAMMIT, WHY SO DUMB? KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO YOURSELF, MAN.
His eyebrows perked up at the mention of the kitchen. Food sounded good, especially food that wasn't sleeping gas turkey. Come to think of it, he hadn't really eaten since breakfast, had he? As if on cue, Scott's stomach gurgled loudly. "Cooking something sounds like an amazing idea, oh man," said Scott, the tip of tongue lolling out of his mouth a bit. "I could so help with that. I can chop veggies like nobody's business." Now was one of those (incredibly rare) times when working in a dinky vegetarian place paid off. Aside from when it, well, literally paid off his rent. But still.
no subject
"You can chop vegetables? You mean, you're a commis or something?" If this guy was a commis, so much the better -- he and Remy might really be able to get something done together in the kitchen, as long as their ideas of cooking didn't clash too much, and as long as it was understood that Remy was the chef.
In his mind, Remy began to consider what recipe they might prepare. Of course, that all depended on what he found in the food storage area. Some of the ingredients used in the salads were a good start, but those might be delivered fresh in the morning....
God, he hoped they were. He had to resist the impulse to give a tiny shudder when he considered the other possibilities.
no subject
A friendly, enthusiastic hand was extended toward his new traveling buddy. "Anyway, I'm Scott Pilgrim! What's your name, my food-loving friend?"
no subject
He took Scott's hand, a bit delicately, amazed that another human wanted to shake hands with him; he wondered when the feeling would wear off.
"It's Remy. Just... Remy." It occurred to him then that he didn't have a surname, like... well, Linguini or Gusteau or Skinner or, indeed, Pilgrim. He'd have to come up with one.
no subject
"Are you, Remy?" Scott asked as he gestured the younger guy to start following him down the hall. "Going to be a chef, I mean? Sounds like you've got the talk to be one at least."
no subject
"No, I'm not going to be a chef... I am a chef. I haven't been able to cook since I got here, though. I learned the lingo from Gusteau." He wondered if Scott would recognize the name. Gusteau was world-famous, but so far, nobody here was sure that they had heard of him.
Technically, Auguste Gusteau had died well over a year before Remy was born. They had never met and could never have met. Yet Remy had lived most of the months of his life learning from Gusteau, with Anyone Can Cook as their intermediary; this had been true ever since his fur had grown in, after his eyes had opened and he could see and, later, venture out on his own or with Emile. He remembered looking into the skylight at Gusteau's restaurant, and his imagination supplying him with Gusteau's words from the book and Gusteau's image to guide him.
He hadn't seen Petit Gusteau since the other night, though. At the time, Remy had thought that it would be all right if the apparition was gone for good; now, he was beginning to miss him. Even though they'd never really known each other personally, Gusteau was as beloved to him as any mentor ever could be.
[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/779667.html?thread=64306835#t64306835).]