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

[ontheabyss.livejournal.com]

"I'm Lyta." She hadn't realized that she hadn't offered her name before. But last night she'd been more concerned with getting her hands on anything worthwhile than making friends.

"I think we'll work together just fine," she said, picking up her juice. And she did. From what she'd seen of Envy, he and her thought a lot alike. That was good.

"Just tell me what you want to know. I'll need to know who I'm going to go scanning." And who knew, she could probably find stuff she could use. Blackmail was nothing new to Lyta.

"I could do the same for you," she said, nodding to Fox. "If you wanted."

[prisonerofdeath.livejournal.com]

Fox had been mostly concerned with eating his lunch at that point, thinking quietly and paying partial attention to the conversation going on.

"I'll let you know if I ever need something like that..." Fox was much less concerned about his fellow patients than this man appeared to be.

That, and he would much rather gather the information himself through other means. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but he just didn't ever go to other people for help when he could possibly get by without help.

[outtokillhim.livejournal.com]

"And you already know my name," he said, extending a lighthearted hand in mock introduction, "Pleased to make your acquaintance." And he honestly was. Beyond the many times he'd rehearsed such lines of politeness, there were so few incidents in which he ever remotely meant it.

The other man didn't seem too interested in her spying skills. Which meant he had a greater share. It was rather greedy, but he didn't care.

He had a mind to ask her just how much she knew about his intentions with a few certain individuals and if she had any ideas about how to go about with executing them. But while they were remaining outwardly proper and social, he supposed he might as well venture to ask,

"So, do you have any prior arrangements on the night shift? Or do we begin our ventures immediately?"

[ontheabyss.livejournal.com]

"I'm selling drugs out of my room until Fox is set," Lyta said, ignoring the hand with little other than a raised eyebrow. Fake pleasantries weren't her thing.

"Just come by my room, and we can...finalize our arrangements, so to speak."