Renamon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
diamondstorm) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2010-04-13 01:15 pm
diamondstorm) wrote in damned_institute2010-04-13 01:15 pm
Dayshift 49: Bus 2
Morning hit without warning, with the sheer knowledge hitting the Digimon before anything else that today they were going back to Doyletown. Her feet hit the floor and she rotated her right shoulder experimentally. The skin stretched tight, soreness persevering, but it moved fine. She stretched her fingers then curled them into a fist, staring at the tanned skin that was her right arm. If something happened this time... She would be more useful. Her mind replayed the events of last week, and Renamon stilled, considering.
There wasn't much time left to her as the nurse bustled in with an armful of clothes, the same shade as the weeks before. The woman murmured a cheery complaint that it was too cold for skirts and left Renamon to change. The pants were preferable to the past two weeks, though the other item she was left with gave too much to irony. She frowned at it for a minute, then slid it over her head, reflecting that this motion in days or weeks past would have left her shuddering. It meant she was becoming used to this human body, and that was nothing that boded well. She grabbed her notebook before being led to a bus, and slid into a seat halfway down the aisle, pressing against the window. Again, the previous night had been more than short. Was it just her, or was there something more to it?
[for Haseo!]
There wasn't much time left to her as the nurse bustled in with an armful of clothes, the same shade as the weeks before. The woman murmured a cheery complaint that it was too cold for skirts and left Renamon to change. The pants were preferable to the past two weeks, though the other item she was left with gave too much to irony. She frowned at it for a minute, then slid it over her head, reflecting that this motion in days or weeks past would have left her shuddering. It meant she was becoming used to this human body, and that was nothing that boded well. She grabbed her notebook before being led to a bus, and slid into a seat halfway down the aisle, pressing against the window. Again, the previous night had been more than short. Was it just her, or was there something more to it?
[for Haseo!]
no subject
Guybrush opened his eyes slowly, so sure he'd just dozed off while waiting for Javert to return to his room. Instead, he was greeted by the plain walls and sterile smell of every patient room. He sat up and paused, readying himself with covers in hand for the inevitable company in his bed. Pulling the sheets back with dramatic flair, he saw exactly what he'd expected to see: Javert's sword, his shovel, and the flashlight, all cluttered around his feet. "Great. Looks like I'll be taking another fun trip to Javert's tonight. Looking forward to that."
Sarcastic comment aside, he took one step out of the bed and let loose a yelp. He brought his foot to the good hand- "M- my foot is burned?" he said, completely and utterly surprised. "That must have been some top-quality fire. Who would have thought walking into a flaming room of death would have resulted in a genuine injury?" He took a quick glance toward his roommate's bed- no Scott in sight.
Guybrush didn't have time to wonder where his roommate was- the nurse entered, dropped some clothes on his bed, and left without a single word. "As cheery and fun as ever. At least I get some new clothes. They can't possibly be worse than what I'm wearing now."
A minute and a half later, and the mighty pirate was ready to eat his words. He looked down at himself- rain boots, a Star Wars T-shirt, a black rain jacket, and pants so hideous they were beyond description. "I take it back. I'd rather wear the broken sweatpants." No time to argue the wardrobe change- the nurse reentered, handed him a sack, and led him outside to a bus.
He took the first empty seat, sliding past an older man to the window. "Hi there," he greeted, not seeing the sour expression on his seatmate's face. "Hope you don't mind me sitting here. Or these blinding pants I'm wearing."
no subject
...What the--?
As von Karma watched the young man approaching his seat, he had given him a forbidding gaze, one that would have frightened away an entire flock of pigeons from Magus Park at first sight.
However, it appeared that those filthy creatures bore more intelligence than the stranger, who not only failed to take the silent hint but also proceeded to seat himself right next to him. The prosecutor barely had enough time to snatch his breakfast from the seat before it became squashed.
von Karma just glared at this brash intruder, his arms crossed in annoyance. Then he finally responded, his tone curt, "Oh, I wouldn't have minded you sitting there, but for one thing: you need to pay more attention to where you sit before you do so. Your 'blinding pants' very nearly got adorned with cream cheese from this bagel!" He underscored this point by opening the bag and retrieving the ring of bread, holding it up in front of the man as though he believed him to have never seen one before.
no subject
"Oh, whoops," Guybrush said with an apologetic grin and a wave of his hand. "My bad, though I'm pretty sure a cheese stain on these pants couldn't possibly make them any worse." He dug into his own bag eagerly, finding his own bagel and pulling it from his bag with his hook through the convenient hole in the center.
"I'm Guybrush Threepwood, mighty pirate," he announced, extending his good hand toward his new seatmate. "And you are?"
no subject
Hn. A pathetic apology. Also possible delusions of grandeur. A mighty pirate? Hah! The only thing that appeared "mighty" about this inattentive dimwit was his height. Unless he meant he was one of those criminal "software pirates," although were that true, he would have undoubtedly been caught and prosecuted long ago due to his own carelessness.
...But at least this uncouth fool had some rudimentary manners. In a sense, the man reminded von Karma of a couple of others he'd met at the Institute, namely Mr. Oland and Mr. Kibitoshin.
He did a double-take at Mr. Threepwood's left hand -- or what passed for it -- as the blond stranger looped the bagel over it. Was that a hook? An actual pointed hook? To avoid staring, von Karma peered at it through the periphery of his vision. ...Yes, it was a prosthetic hook, albeit a blunted one to prevent injury to himself and other patients in the Institute. That most likely explained the man's belief that he was a pirate.
Reluctantly, von Karma reached out to shake hands, his gesture firm and aloof. "Manfred von Karma, prosecuting attorney. So," he quirked his eyebrow, his demeanor incredulous, "you're a pirate? Would you elaborate on this... occupation of yours, Mr. Threepwood? Do you actually brave the high seas, intercepting other ships... or do you merely 'surf the World Wide Web?'" He smirked a little at his own joke.
no subject
Wow, another person who knew what a pirate was? It was strange that people who were aware of the existence of the seabound scourges were so few and far between in this place. He preferred those who were already familiar with piracy: it saved a lot of time explaining the complex lifestyle of the high seas.
"I'm the ship-captaining, treasure-hunting, sword-fighting variety of pirate," he said before taking a bite of his bagel. Mmm, bready. He swallowed the mouthful quickly, a thought suddenly crossing his mind. "You're... not going to take me to court over anything I say to you, are you? Because I had that happen once already, and litigation is something I'd rather not face ever again. Especially if it comes at me in a coat that's even worse than these pants."
no subject
von Karma listened as this "pirate" shared his candid worry that he would be prosecuted again. Hmph. Such gullible ramblings. "No, I have no reason to take you to court, Mr. Threepwood," he continued in a tone that bore the facade of reassurance, though he bristled internally at the blunt observation of what he himself was wearing. "All you've given me is merely hearsay, which isn't enough to bring criminal charges against anyone. Decisive, irrefutable proof is required for an effective case. Unless you are foolish enough to present me with such, prosecuting you would be a complete waste of my time."
Only one who was quick to notice and who was well-read in body language would note the split-second predatory glint in the older man's eyes. To all others, it would most likely be interpreted as nothing more than a patronizing, cold twinkle.
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He frowned visibly, stuffing another bite of bagel into his mouth. Only the second bona fide prosecutor he'd ever met, and he was already missing Stan and his loud coat. And what kind of a name was Manfred, anyway?
"Trust me, being a pirate is a lot harder than it sounds," he added with an irritable waggle of his hook, finishing his last bready bite.
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"Is that so, Mr. Threepwood?" von Karma scoffed, the smirk still on his face as he shook his head. "Why, you've just given me the perfect example of my world's romanticist notion of what piracy is. I assure you, the reality of modern day piracy is quite different from what you describe and is certainly far less glamorous than how movies and books depict it. Instead, it is associated with political uprisings and often poses a threat to the economy of certain developing countries. These pirates' motives tend to be far more complex than merely hunting for treasure and making nautical nuisances of themselves. And none of them use swords of any kind; only hobbyists use swords as weapons in modern day."
Watching Mr. Threepwood finish his bagel, the older man finally started in on his own, taking small, meticulous bites to avoid smearing cream cheese all over his lips. He would have preferred to wait until they arrived at the backwater town, since it was more difficult to eat as carefully in a moving vehicle, but he was hungry after the fruitless expedition that he and Mr. Xemnas had gone on last night. Which reminded him... Mr. Scar. He had to find that worthless lion as soon as possible to interrogate him on his failure to appear.
"Indeed, I've no doubt that it's not for the faint of heart," von Karma returned to the conversation at hand, wagging his finger in response to the other man's waggle of his hook. "I'd like to see you try to survive the life of a real pirate in my world, Mr. Threepwood. Regardless of what it's like in your world, I'm certain it's not all swordplay and frivolous rhymes in mine."