damned_institute | Night 47: Kitchen

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Night 47: Kitchen

[From here.]

For once, they had actually gotten lucky. Guy's expression brightened as his flashlight showed him a kitchen, as they'd both guessed. While it was much smaller than the one downstairs, that didn't mean that it wouldn't have some good finds. In fact, maybe they'd be able to get some better quality stuff here, seeing how it was meant for the staff and also harder to get to.

Though they hadn't been attacked so far. That almost made him nervous. Was this part of the institute just not as heavily guarded?

More than that, he saw that there were two doors at the other side of the room, which meant they could keep up their search if they had enough time. It looked like they'd made a good decision to come this way, even if it'd meant giving up the radio clue. Considering how that had turned out for them last time, though, Guy had no regrets.

"Let's split up and search," he suggested. "Asch uses a sword, normally, so anything blade-like will probably work." Guy was pretty sure that Claude already knew that, but he decided to mention it just in case. With that taken care of, he started to slowly move through the room, opening up drawers in search of something useful. "And let me know if there's anything you're looking for," he added. Claude hadn't said anything about that, but it was worth checking.

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Claude definitely appreciated Guy reaching out to steady him outside, and he made sure to give a smile of gratitude as they made their way in together. It was nice knowing that he had his back, even for simple things like busting down doors.

One of the first things Claude noticed about the room was how insanely clean it was. Did the staff do that good of a job tidying up every evening, or did they try to keep things spic and span throughout the entire day? He couldn't imagine being able to keep something this clean, though that probably had more to do with him than anything else. It wasn't like he was all that adept in the kitchen anyhow.

When Guy suggested that they split up, he gave a brief nod. "Right." They'd cover more ground that way, so it only made sense. Walking over to the east side of the room, Claude's eyes settled on a few cabinets and drawers that were practically waiting for some patients to rummage through them. Man, they'd really lucked out by coming out all this way!

"Well, if we're looking for something sharp for Asch, I'd like to get something for Ashton, too, if we can," he added. He already had some stuff to use until he managed to get a real sword, but nothing sharp, as far as Claude knew. He'd feel better if his Expelian friend had something like that in addition to what he'd already collected.

Guy was in the middle of searching through a drawer (which had nothing useful in it; just some stirring spoons, spatulas, and so forth) when he heard the name "Ashton" and stopped what he was doing. While Claude had mentioned it rather casually, Guy couldn't help feeling guilty. He was holding a sword that had belonged to Ashton in his hand at that very moment, after all. While he'd gotten accustomed to taking it around with him, it had never completely felt like his, both because of the previous owner and because it wasn't the type of blade he was used to.

Even though Claude (and Ashton, apparently) had told him that it was fine to keep the sword, this just made him uneasy all over again. Claude's request made it clear that his friend didn't have any sort of weapon at the moment, which made sense. If Ashton had come back with no memories, as Luke had, then it was obvious that he was unarmed.

He thought about saying something, but he knew that Claude was just going to brush him off again. Still, Guy really hoped that things worked out when it came to Okita getting him a proper sword. Then he could return this one and not feel so bad about the whole thing.

"Sure thing," he said eventually, but Guy knew that the pause had been long enough that Claude had to have noticed. His friend would likely know what it was about, but it was up to him if he wanted to bring it up or not.

Sighing to himself (not loud enough for Claude to hear from across the room), Guy moved on to the next drawer to keep up his search. It looked like all this one had was measuring cups...

Guy's silence was difficult to miss, and Claude paused in the middle of opening up a drawer. Though he'd eventually responded, stretches of quiet like that made him feel a little uneasy even under better circumstances. Maybe he was distracted by something he found, or maybe something Claude said had triggered that response. Sometimes Guy was difficult to read, especially when he took into account that there was a lot about himself he was keeping under wraps. Claude certainly couldn't blame him too much for that, though.

After a moment, he realized that it had been the subject of Ashton that had made him react that way, and it didn't take him long to put two and two together. Even though they'd cleared all this up on the bulletin board, it looked like he was still worrying over things. Claude admired the consideration Guy had toward others, but in this case he felt like he needed to be willing to accept the generosity of others. It wasn't like Ashton was defenseless, after all.

Not only that, but he didn't have an arch enemy among the patients who was trying to-- no, had killed him, even. With that in mind, did Guy want to put himself in more danger than necessary?

"Hey," he said quietly as he turned to regard the other blond with a concerned expression, "you're...not feeling guilty, are you?"

It looked like Claude couldn't just let it drop. Guy shut the drawer he'd been looking through right as his friend asked the question, and made sure to move on even if they were trying to carry on a conversation across the room. It was a little bit awkward, true, but he'd feel like more of a fool if the night ended before they found something because they'd decided to stop and chat.

"Well, I don't know about guilty, but I do feel bad that he doesn't have a sword when this was his in the first place." Even if Asthon didn't remember going to the effort to get his swords made by one of the alchemists, he'd still done it. The blade Guy was currently holding was proof of that.

"Okita might be able to get me one, though. I'm... still waiting to hear for sure on that," he admitted. Guy knew that possibility had been up in the air for a long time now, but hopefully Claude would be able to realize that sometimes these things took time. Especially when a weapon was involved.

The next drawer that Guy checked ended up being far more lucrative than the others he'd tried. His flashlight beam reflected off of polished metal, and when he reached in and grabbed for the handle, what he pulled out was a decently-sized knife.

It was shorter than his short sword, even, but Asch was going to have to improvise.

That sounded a lot like feeling guilty to Claude, but he wasn't going to argue semantics. Either way, it wasn't like Claude could judge. If their situations were reversed, he'd probably wish there was some way for everyone to be armed with a sword all once. Unfortunately, there wasn't much that could be done about it except for everyone to try their best working through things. Ashton had decided to let Guy keep the sword, and he already had something to defend himself with until he got another set of twin blades.

Seeing Guy look through the drawers reminded Claude that he needed to be productive, too, and he began rummaging through some silverware. "Well, you know, you have been waiting awhile..." he said as delicately as he could.

It was true, though. Guy had technically been around Landel's for longer, and yet Claude managed to get his weapon much earlier by going through Ed, an alchemist who'd actually opened his services to all the other captives. While he was sure Okita had nothing but the best of intentions when it came to Guy, he was starting to secretly grow doubtful that the offer would pan out. Things happened here, people disappeared, reappeared, and were even killed, sometimes for good. It was very possible something could have caught up to whatever connections Okita believed would land Guy a good weapon.

As horrible was it was to think about, that didn't make it any less possible.

"And Ashton has something to fight with until he can get something sharper," he added as he picked up and examined a spatula. "Trust me, there's no way I'd let him go around empty-handed. Plus, he really was fine with letting you have it, though I think he'd appreciate it if you took the time to introduce yourself to him soon."

It was kind of silly to think back on how long he'd been in this place without actually getting a real weapon. True, this short sword of Ashton's was perfectly capable of tearing into monsters, but it wasn't the right sword for him. In all this time, he'd never once laid hands on a weapon that he would have used back in Auldrant.

Guy got the feeling that Asch was going to complain about this knife, but he was hoping that he wouldn't have to hear that for himself. If he could just hand this over to Luke, then he could worry about delivering it. Guy didn't even expect a word of thanks from the God-General. That just wasn't Asch's style, and that flippancy was one of the many things that bothered him about the redhead.

Hearing that Ashton had something to work with made Guy feel slightly better, and he nodded. "That's good. What does he have?" It probably wasn't anything revolutionary, but he'd still like to know. As for introducing himself, Guy had been meaning to do that, but he honestly just hadn't seen Ashton around so far. He didn't know if it was just bad luck on both of their parts or what, but it wasn't like he'd deliberately been trying to be rude.

"Yeah, I'll definitely try to find him tomorrow. I just haven't run into him so far," Guy explained as he closed the drawer he'd found the knife in and then moved on. He doubted he'd get lucky enough to find a second, but he might as well keep himself busy. "I've got a knife over here, by the way," he announced, in case Claude hadn't seen. It was pretty dark in here, after all.

When Guy asked what Ashton was using, Claude sent his friend a quick grin. "Oh, he's got some bats," he replied. "He and I raided the activity shed the other night, so..."

Come to think of it, that was a weapon a lot of patients wound up using until they managed to get something sharper. Claude had never gotten a chance to get one before acquiring a sword; instead, he'd mostly used his wimpy clothes rod. He definitely hadn't been sorry to give it up, that was for sure. But a bat was bound to be more reliable than anything else -- it could be used to get more metal, for one thing, which was something they were going to have to work on even if Ashton had gotten the one blade back. It was a lot sturdier, too.

Hearing Guy's explanation on why he hadn't talked to Ashton yet wasn't surprising. There were a lot of patients here, which made it easy to miss a face in the crowd. There was once a time when Ashton stood out wherever he went, of course, but that wasn't the case now. It was strange to think about sometimes, yet that was the way things were. "I figured as much," he replied with a casual shrug. "Just whenever you get the chance, that's all."

In the meantime, it sounded like they'd found something promising after all. "A knife?" he echoed hopefully. "Sweet! I wonder if they have another one lying around somewhere..." That knowledge only encouraged him to search more, and he pulled open another drawer. This one had some oven mitts, but Claude was determined to find something.

Right, a bat. Or two, in Ashton's case. He was obviously used to fighting with a weapon in each hand, so that was probably why Claude had used the plural there. Guy ended up smiling to himself at the image of Ashton running around wielding two bats, but he didn't actually say anything about it.

The bats were better than nothing, certainly, but Guy knew from personal experience that they wouldn't cut it in a lot of situations. Even if he would feel bad if he continually pestered Okita about his potential sword, he was going to have to do it anyway. The sooner he could get his own, personalized weapon, the sooner he could return Ashton's sword to him.

He nodded when Claude mentioned just tracking down Ashton whenever he got a moment. That was what he planned to do, and he'd have to keep it at the front of his mind for tomorrow. He wouldn't mind finding Edgar again, either... Though he wondered how often he was allowed to bug the man before it got annoying.

Hearing Claude's enthusiasm in regards to the knife was pretty encouraging, even though Guy knew that Asch would never be that excited about it himself. "Well, we're just going to have to keep searching each drawer until we find something." This place wasn't large enough that they couldn't manage that, if they were quick about it. The next place Guy looked had a rolling pin and a cutting board, but nothing sharp.

If there was one knife in here, there was bound to be another. It wouldn't make much sense for an otherwise well-stocked kitchen to only have one knife, right? On the other hand, it was possible they were still hard to get a hold of because the place still functioned as a mental institute in the day. It'd make sense that the staff wouldn't want to leave knives lying just anywhere...

Just as he thought that to himself, Claude opened up a drawer that contained a can opener, a bottle opener, and -- oh, hey! The blond's face instantly lit up as he lifted a decently sharp knife from among the drawer's contents.

"Found something!" he called over his shoulder. It looked like heading this way had really worked out for them after all. Not only had they found something for Asch, but Ashton would get something out of the deal, too. "Now, if only we had a bat on hand, then we could collect more metal for the others to use." If he recalled correctly, Guy still had some, but at some point Luke, Asch and Ashton would probably be getting something made as well. That was probably going to have to be something left for another night, though.

While Guy hadn't been finding much more on his side of the kitchen, it looked like Claude had finally gotten lucky. Things had really turned out pretty well tonight, all things considered. No attacks, no running into brainwashed patients, and both of them had found what they'd been looking for. The radio clue was one knot that hadn't been tied, but Guy wasn't too upset about that.

Nodding to his friend, Guy closed the drawer he'd been looking in and then moved over to the younger man. He had to fight not to make a face when Claude brought up the idea of collecting metal. Honestly, he felt he'd already done more than enough for Asch. If the God-General wanted to go that route and try to get a weapon made, then he'd have to gather the metal himself. Guy realized it was different with Ashton, but he got the feeling that he would want to do that work himself. Claude was likely just trying to be nice.

"I think we've already done enough," he pointed out as he bridged the gap between them. He carefully tucked the knife he'd found in the elastic of his pants, once again wishing he had sheaths for his weapons. It was a rare thing, to feel like he had extra time on his hands during the nights here. "Where from here? Or should we just quit while we're ahead?" There were a few other doors they could try to get into, but Guy figured he'd see how Claude felt first.

Following Guy's example, Claude tucked his own knife away. He guessed his friend had a point -- they'd accomplished a bit already by exploring an area they'd never seen and finding something of use. There was no telling how much time they left had tonight, so maybe it was a good idea to quit while they were ahead. Still, what were they going to do until it was time for dayshift?

Briefly pausing, Claude thought over their options. He had a feeling the other areas in here would contain food, which wasn't necessarily such a bad thing. Midnight snacks could certainly be a nice change of pace, though he wasn't sure what Guy would think of their stopping to actually eat something. On the other hand, he wasn't so sure what they'd find if they backtracked to open up the door on the patio.

"Well, since we've got these knives on us, plus our weapons and flashlights, I wonder if it'd be a good idea to put ourselves in anymore danger," he thought out loud. "I mean, seems like we could risk hurting ourselves or losing the knives if we had to move around a lot for a fight."

He turned to look at his friend with a curious expression. "What're you leaning toward, though?"

It seemed that Claude was also unsure. Guy certainly didn't want to waste whatever time they might have left, but they did have valuable goods that they needed to make sure they kept their hands on. It would be pretty terrible if they got into a scuffle, dropped their knives, and then woke up in the morning and were empty-handed.

"Well, I definitely don't want to lose the knife now that we've gone to all this trouble to find it." At least now he'd have something to tell Luke when he saw him at breakfast tomorrow morning. He hadn't really wanted to do this, but he'd endured it nonetheless, as it had been a favor for his friend.

Sitting around and waiting for morning seemed like an easy way to attract a monster, though. Guy sighed and looked around again, considering their options. "I'm not sure how much safer we are here than we would be if we kept looking around," he admitted. In the end, he found himself indecisive. He wasn't usually the one who made the decisions; he preferred to follow whatever others wanted to do.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/826343.html?thread=66763239#t66763239) skipping the Bride with permission]

Well, the detective hadn't lied. There were indeed two people in here and they were indeed looking for supplies. They didn't seem particularly dangerous either, not from their lack of covertness and their generally sunny attitude about this whole nightshift business. Franziska gave them a look as if to warn them to stay out of her way and then snapped her fingers at the Detective.

"Line everything on the counter. Candle, dish, knife, powder - in that order. We start immediately and I want no wasted efforts, understand?" Any mistakes would be paid for in pain, as she was certain Gumshoe already knew.

Gumshoe moved aside to let Ms. von Karma through and promptly followed after her, shoulders hitching slightly at her next order. That last part was a threat, no doubt about it. His eyes briefly darted to her makeshift whip, as if to prove he got the message. "Y-Yes sir!"

He glanced over at the guys one last time before moving the flashlight to the crook of his right arm and carefully placing the box on the counter. The items she said--candle, knife-- no, dish, then knife...--were quickly laid out in front of it, side by side. He leaned back to survey his work, flashlight in hand again. "What now, sir?" he asked, looking curious.

After Gumshoe barked his understanding, she moved through the kitchen - the world around her melting away as she sought what she needed. Matches. Every kitchen in the world had them, and if they didn't, she'd use the stoves. It didn't take long to locate a small box of strike-on-the-box red-tipped matches, although the number somewhat felled Franziska's spirits. There were only a few remaining in the tiny box, and they rattled ominously when she shook the package. Wonderful.

"Find a pair of tongs that can grip the dish." His next set of orders. Without giving him much time to snap to, Franziska moved back to the counter where he'd set everything up, inspecting his work (and secretly pleased to see that he'd done it in the correct order). She touched the knife to set it better into a perfect line with the other items and then pulled a match out of the box. She could sense the other woman hovering around the edges, watching, but remaining silent and Franziska decided to move on. That Arlene was here as a witness mattered little since Arlene had no idea why they were making fingerprint powder.

With a snap that wasted no motions, Franziska struck the match against the side of the box and almost snarled when it refused to light. A second and third time produced nothing and then, on the fourth, the little fire sprang to life with the smell of sulfur and a wisp of smoke. Dropping the box of matches on the counter, Franziska moved the match ever so carefully to the candle's wick and held a breath as she waited for the wax melted into the cotton to catch fire. There was another flare and then the flame jumped from the match to the candle, wavered for a moment and then began to burn. It was too soon to tell if it would remain strong, but Franziska could at least breathe a mental sigh of relief. "Do you have those tongs yet, Detective?"

"Right! Let's see..."

Gumshoe took a step toward the nearest drawer before glancing back over his shoulder; he wanted to know how she was going to make fingerprint powder with that stuff. He reluctantly returned to the task at hand. "No tongs in here..." he mumbled to himself, sliding the drawer back in and moving on to the next one.

When he was done searching about four of the lower cabinets, he straightened and tilted his head a little to try and get a look at what Ms. von Karma was doing. He watched as she tried again and again to light the match--on standby for the right moment (i.e. before she started to take aim at him)--until she finally did it.

He almost flinched when she spoke to him, breaking the silence. How come every time he thought she wasn't paying attention... "Um..." His hand frantically groped the air beside him and managed to find a drawer handle. The search continued at a faster pace. "Th-there sure are a lot of cabinets in here, huh, sir?" he replied lamely. However, in his effort to prove he wasn't slacking off...

A small smile spread across the detective's face as he reached in to claim his prize. He stood up to his full height and proudly marched over to her. "There you go," he said, placing the tongs on the workbench.

Franziska would have sighed if she'd had the patience for it. When she heard him grope about to find the tongs she'd asked him for earlier, she turned and snapped another drawer open, looking for something as well. She needed a bag to put the powder in once it was finished. Americans always had those silly plastic things lying around somewhere for some reason or another. She had heard someone refer to them as... What was the term? Dog bags? Puppy bags? Maybe it was a cat. Whatever it was, she had no idea why anyone would name a bag after an animal. Foolish Americans. Animal bags and painting with gravy.

Further inspection of the counter drawers produced a small plastic bag with a zip top soon enough - just as Gumshoe returned and placed his prize on the workbench like a puppy ready to be praised.

She almost smirked, but caught herself at the last minute, shoving the bag into Gumshoe's open hands. "Hold that then. Fill it with the powder. I will create the ash. You can manage that, can't you, Detective?"

Of course he could. If he couldn't, she'd whip him until he could. Not wasting another moment, she picked the tongs up and used it to carefully grip the dish, holding it over the flame. The white porcelain reflected the light into the room, glowing softly for a moment before the proximity to the flame started to cause smoke to rise and then begin to darken the dish. It wouldn't take long, perhaps five to ten minutes, and then she could scrape the ash off into the starch powder and start over.

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Night 47: Kitchen

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