Even in the night shift, the Head Doctor sounded congested. Sasuke couldn't help but find a certain kind of surreal schadenfreude in the fact of it -- their elusive captor behind his impenetrable protection, pretending to grandeur and claiming a victory, had nonetheless succumbed to the common cold. If Sasuke didn't have an interest in snapping the bastard's neck himself (not least for the consequences of fourth shift), he might have wished for the illness to descend into something more fatal.
On a more logical note, however, it was further confirmation that Landel, unlike the majority of the rest of his daytime staff, was undoubtedly aware and active during both the day and the night. It begged the question of when the man slept (besides when lying on the intercom). Sasuke knew the effects of insomnia himself -- the irony of the Institute was that the forced sleep led to quite possibly more sleep than he was accustomed to.
It made for a strange brightness in his mind, a clarity that was less about sharpness and more about light. Almost colourful, the opposite of the greyscale knife-edged vision of the Sharingan. Some combination of the sleep and the -- the changes that had happened since Itachi's death had made the crawl of the days blur in unexpected movement, a certain unreal timbre to the shape (the uneven duration, the unpredictable lurch) of time passing that felt like it had to stop, somehow, sometime.
But these weren't thoughts of any use. Sasuke set the map and the small silver sword on the bed. With any luck, Sakura's business would go quickly and he could be on his way.
inside M58
Even in the night shift, the Head Doctor sounded congested. Sasuke couldn't help but find a certain kind of surreal schadenfreude in the fact of it -- their elusive captor behind his impenetrable protection, pretending to grandeur and claiming a victory, had nonetheless succumbed to the common cold. If Sasuke didn't have an interest in snapping the bastard's neck himself (not least for the consequences of fourth shift), he might have wished for the illness to descend into something more fatal.
On a more logical note, however, it was further confirmation that Landel, unlike the majority of the rest of his daytime staff, was undoubtedly aware and active during both the day and the night. It begged the question of when the man slept (besides when lying on the intercom). Sasuke knew the effects of insomnia himself -- the irony of the Institute was that the forced sleep led to quite possibly more sleep than he was accustomed to.
It made for a strange brightness in his mind, a clarity that was less about sharpness and more about light. Almost colourful, the opposite of the greyscale knife-edged vision of the Sharingan. Some combination of the sleep and the -- the changes that had happened since Itachi's death had made the crawl of the days blur in unexpected movement, a certain unreal timbre to the shape (the uneven duration, the unpredictable lurch) of time passing that felt like it had to stop, somehow, sometime.
But these weren't thoughts of any use. Sasuke set the map and the small silver sword on the bed. With any luck, Sakura's business would go quickly and he could be on his way.