Day 23: Lunch

[part1of3.livejournal.com]

The second the intercom sounded, while the man on the intercom was still talking, Ashton pulled himself off the couch in the Music Room and slowly made his way to the door. He walked, glided even, as if he were a ghost in a dream. The nurses had already filed up to escort the patients to the lunchroom, and one bustled over to walk Ashton those few feet from one room to another.

"You're not looking very well, Mr. Pritchett," she said cheerfully. "Didn't you enjoy your shower?"

Ashton replied with a small, forced smile, then shook his head. He didn't feel like talking now. Though the nurses were pushy and downright annoying, he figured he owed this one at least a little explanation. They didn't know - or didn't believe - what went on after dark, but he owed them the benefit of the doubt. "Bad day," he decided on telling her.

Bad day indeed. The showers and the music had done nothing for his nerves. But then again, what could get that graphic image out of his head?

He glided ghostily through the taco line and settled on two chicken and bean tacos, with chips, a scoop of guacamole, two churros on the side, and a glass of apple juice. He wasn't used to this sort of food (save the juice) and he wasn't even sure he'd eat it, but the chances were high that he'd be able to pass it off on someone.

He was on the verge of tears again, too. What he would have given to just sit down next to a barrel and eat a hamburger.

Thank goodness the cafeteria was bare just now, too. It left all the corner tables open, the tables that shouted 'Don't talk to me, I'm brooding over here.' He sat at one, pushed his food a little away from him, and buried his head in his arms.

Comments

[theycutitout.livejournal.com]

"We're all who we're not sometimes," River answered Luxord, very seriously as she nodded in approval. He seemed to understand by nature, playing the game and falling into his role without having to think twice about it. If he sought advice, he understood the code then. It would make things less complicated. She turned to to Darman and grinned.

"Nothing's to be trusted. Especially not the water, but it's as he says. We're playing Martin Landel's game, whether we like it or not." The girl paused thoughtfully, eyes lighting up when she thought of a proper comparison. "Mother forces the children to play with kids they don't like sometimes."

As they sorted out personality issues and mistaken identities, River turned her attention back to her food, eyes locked onto it as she picked it apart, eating little bits at a time before she decided to throw her two cents in.

"No you. The other you," she explained.

[clone-boy.livejournal.com]

Darman was lost. He didn't like being lost, but there it was - he didn't have a clue what they were talking about, not with all these riddles flying over his head. He'd been taught how to shoot and blow stuff up, not try to decipher word games.

At least he'd managed to finish his plate in the meantime. Still feeling a bit hungry, Darman picked up his plate and stood up, glancing around out of habit. He froze, spotting Schuldig's head of orange hair in the crowd...and right across from him sat General Kenobi.

"Excuse me," Darman said, and left. He wasn't going to go that extra distance and babysit Kenobi, but he'd certainly sit close enough that he could keep an eye on the Jedi General.

[clockmongler.livejournal.com]

Hmm. Seemed the clone boy did not wish to partake in the conversation any longer. Oh well.

After watching the man depart, the blond turned his head back to the girl and, for once in a long while, smiled. It was foreign, the muscles in his face not particularly knowing how to make the gesture, but it was good enough, he supposed. "You'd play the game quite well, dear Alice." Trust had to be earned for the sake of victory; swimming up a down currant needed to be done at times.

"However, I wished to speak to you of other matters, if you don't mind." He'd listened to the conversation between Lust and the Captain in the library, so he knew of this "gift" the girl seemed to have. And considering the large number of people so devoted to her… it'd be like ten birds with one stone. "River, was it not? I'm referred to as Luxord." He held out his hand to her, smile still in place somehow.

[theycutitout.livejournal.com]

River's eyes followed Darman's retreating form, curious as to why he'd decided to up and leave, even if the answer were rather obvious. It was known, and yet it was never to be seen. She would pretend to be blind, and perhaps the darkness would linger a while longer.

Luxord caught her attention shortly after the other man left, speaking of matters that seemed almost akin to negotiation. She cocked her head to one side, curious and bearing an amused, half-smile as she looked at him. Curious. The game would continue, then.

"I always do. I had a talent," she mused, whether the words were directed for the sake of personal amusement or to him. "Luxord. I remember..." Her voice trailed off. "I remember most of the bits. You're looking for something. You wouldn't have come otherwise. Every one of you is, but it's not something real. Abstract concepts..." The girl shook her head, forcing a sense of coherency that would be more disorienting than any riddles.

"Do you need help?"

[clockmongler.livejournal.com]

He closed his eyes, fingers entwining on the table's surface at the girl's words. She did happen to know things, did she not? "You believe the heart is abstract?" Hm. "The emotions it produces may be, in a sense, but they've never said an abstract idea could not be elusive to some."

Whatever she meant by "remember" was a tad odd, but she was an odd girl. Some dead part of him wished to merely speak with her more and not do what the rest of him planned to, not just use her for information and chalk up a few more lines on the Manipulation Scale (that game wasn't even running anymore, with his attempted hatred for II, so what was the point?). She was a nice girl. Why do this?

Because nice people are destined to destruction, no matter how unfair it seems. This was not some fairy-tale, and there was no happily ever after for them, no prince charming or beautiful princess down the road ahead. This was life. Tyche spins the wheel, and what it lands on…

"I wished to inquire on what you know. Of us, the XIII and the others like us, and our roles in this catastrophic mess." Not that it would help, he knew their roles by now; they were the bad guys, no matter how sympathetic.

[theycutitout.livejournal.com]

River only continued to peer at him curiously, as though she were deciding whether or not she wished to answer him clearly. The mind was an elusive thing, sometimes moreso than the ever-predictable heart. And what do do with the ones wandering in the darkness, what to do with the games and the cards and the streaks of good and bad and luck and fortune.

The intercom piped up again, issuing a shift change at the most inopportune or fortunate time. He would know of fortune, or luck and of games. And so River just laughed, standing up with an almost coy smile.

"Maybe I'll say. Maybe I'll dance through the motions, do what must be done or what must be said." She paused and looked to the nurse that had come to escort her away. She had to be cleaned. "Or maybe I'll let you handle the dancing."

And with that, she was away.