damned_institute | Day 50: Cafeteria (Brunch)

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Day 50: Cafeteria (Brunch)

Somehow, after their talk in the chapel, Elaine felt simultaneously more accepting of and more irritated by her future husband. On the one hand, seven years had clearly been good to him. He seemed more sincere and thoughtful than he had been before his disappearance, and he had a more mature (dare she say, handsome?) look to him. On the other hand, there were clearly some things that made even time throw up its hands in vain and say, "To hell with this!" Guybrush was still inexorably prone to disastrous accidents if the story about the Pox of LeChuck was anything to go by, and he was so obviously keeping something important from her that any passing dolt in the Institute would have been able to tell. In the end, that eternal underlying sweetness of his that won out, keeping her from punching him again, at least. That was only by a hairs width, though. Her snugglecakes was going to have to stay on his best behaviour if he knew what was good for him.

She left the Mighty Pirate™ alone for the time being when the announcement of the next shift went off. He would want some time to catch up with Morgan next, presumably. As much as the woman's attitude bothered her, she was a friend of Guybrush's, as she had claimed. Elaine could be strict, but she wasn't the kind of shrewish future wife/past fiancé who would keep her man from seeing his friends. Besides, she needed some more time to catch up on the goings-on of the Institute. Patients filled the building to the brim, now, it seemed; there would be a lot to investigate.

After a few quick trips back and forth to the bulletin and a few new leads to follow up on, the governor gave in to her nurse's persistent nagging and headed to the cafeteria for brunch. After the relatively light fare of the day before, Elaine took advantage of the Institute's admittedly scrumptious offerings and loaded up a full, balanced brunchfast of eggs, sausage links, waffles, and vegetable soup. As expected, the selection of drinks did not offer either root beer or grog. Grog she could live without, at least, she thought while making a face. Eugh. For now, she settled for a tall glass of water.

Elaine settled into a seat in the cafeteria and tucked into her meal. Her eyes didn't stay on her food, though, instead gazing around restlessly; she hadn't seen LeChuck so far this morning, and god forbid he wanted to invite himself to brunch with her if he chose now to show up. A certain horribly unpleasant dinner on Mêlée Island came to mind. She was prepared to either move at the first sign of the dread pirate or signal a random stranger to sit with her before he could.

[For Dean]

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In fact, it wasn't one she told often, if at all. Still, it wasn't in her nature to show tears before another, and of course, any of her usual attitude was unsuited to the words she was saying. So she simply showed nothing. At least, as much as she could.

She gave a little sigh when she finished, some of the tension leaving her slender frame. It was in the past now.

"I was given the same name as a cat that he tortured and killed. That's why I prefer to be called Hime," she answered shortly. "And yes, it did. I hope now that their souls can rest a little easier now that they've been avenged."

And then a bit of her usual attitude returned.

"And even if not, it's one less corrupt prince running around."

Already Guy could tell that this meeting was going to go much better than the one yesterday. He let himself relax and took another bite of food as he heard out the girl's apology.

"You're not," he said with a shake of his head. "It's probably better that I don't stay lost for too long, anyway." Which was true. He could only worry so much before his stomach would just start to tie itself into knots, and that was the last thing he needed at this point. Doing his best to put thoughts of Claude and his friends out of his mind, Guy focused in on the other patient.

"My name is Guy, by the way," he introduced himself, making sure that his hands were busy when he did so to ensure that she didn't try to initiate a shake.

"You jumped inside the Institute?" Her heavy brows knitted as she watched him draw. "Guess that explains how they put us back in our rooms during the night. Especially since the staff are more in a mood to tear us up rather than tuck us in."

A very irregular maze was taking shape on the paper. Inefficient. Hrm. The lines TK was drawing were confident and connected, so the design must be intentional. It almost looked like the beginnings of a picture -- there had been gardens like that on Rho Ceta, with tangled walls of bush and vine that had been engineered to grow that way -- no cutting required. Taura had been paying more attention to the ghem-lords chatting two hedges over. The conversation had had more false ends and swift turns by far, but they'd gotten what they needed; the date of a force reduction on the Marilac border due to securitty needs for an upcoming wedding/alliance. And the rest of her mind had been on on not bumping her head or poking it up over the top; it had been designed for the fashionable maximum height of six feet. More lacked finesse, and a Cetagandan ghem-lord (or lady) would sooner cut off his own feet than admit to a physiological faux pas.

"Was there anything else in there? Or anyone?"

Edited 2010-06-22 13:32 (UTC)

This time, Kaito did wince. Okita had already heard what had happened from Hattori, but the detective didn't have the full story. He couldn't let Hattori know the rest of it.

"I know he does," Kaito said, dipping his spoon into the soup and leaving it there. Hattori's faith in him just made the whole thing worse. He was glad that Hattori had believed his lies about not being Kid, sure, but he couldn't help but feel guilty because of it. He steeled his nerves and finally looked away from his tray properly, looking up at Okita. "But it doesn't change the fact that I made everything worse. I... misjudged things."

True, he'd been trying to help Kudou by 'Kaito' not learning his secret, and he'd anticipated that the detective might want to have a little chat, but Kudou confronting him during his cover-up the next day had been outside his calculations. He'd been expecting it to be kept private between them.

"If by 'excitin'' you mean a bunch of random rooms 'round the place, then yeah," Raphael grumbled, tearing another chunk out of his pizza and chewing it messily. "Ain't nothin' worth it in any of 'em either. I was tryin' ta get outside, hop the wall or somethin', but kept gettin' tossed around inside. Pretty freakin' annoyin' if you ask me."

Finding himself back in the town would have at least given him something to fight, assuming the zombies he'd heard about were still there. It would have still been a wasted night, but a wasted night he could work out some damn frustration in. He went back to tearing into his food, when something else the other patient said stopped him.

"You dunno where your family is?" Raph repeated, caught off-guard momentarily. His brunch forgotten, he gave Edgar his full attention. "How come?"

Guy need not worry about a handshake, though Momo was keeping an eye out for one form him when he introduced himself. She'd gotten very used to the Western custom at this point, that it was a little odd when he didn't.

"Hinamori Momo," she replied with a small bow of her head, leaving her rank off. It was just her, Senna and Hanatarou there anymore. Her rank meant nothing. As minorly depressing as it was, the shinigami was okay with it.

"You've been here for a while - I've seen you around - so I understand. Though corridors of thought must be long and winding."

"Eh?" Ratchet was caught off guard by what seemed to him to be a random statement, and with a great effort kept himself from calling Carter on it. It would only make things worse.

The group Carter described, as well as their methods, were familiar enough. Both sides had tortured for information during the War; Ratchet had the feeling the Elite Guard were still capable of throwing basic ethics to the side when they thought they had reason to. "I've found over the stellar cycles that people like that generally get what's coming to them," he said, about as comforting as he was capable of being. "Even if it usually takes a long time." Too long, in some cases.

622 nodded again. "We only jumped inside the facility. I hadn't realized that it could lead to anywhere else." That added on new suspicions. "Either that's how they grab most people, or it was just... something new that they're managing to make look normal." The town had changed when night fell, after all.

"But that still wouldn't account for how they grabbed me. I was caught in a blast that destroyed a planetoid-sized space station. I should just be a cloud of atoms now." And why just him? why not others? Why not someone else, someone more important? They could have grabbed Grand Moff bloody Tarkin, for fek's sake.

"You really think so?" Carter asked excitedly, all smiles and sunshine. "It's been sixty years, I bet it's already happened. I know we're gonna beat the Germans in a year or so--I mean, a year after I left--but I bet something really nasty happens to him. Yeah." Carter beamed and rubbed his hands gleefully. His mind ed with happy thoughts of mayhem and bloody death.

"Does that happen in your wars? I don't know where you're from, I don't know a lot about space."

"Not leading where they were supposed to? What do you mean?" Aigis hadn't made it past the main hallways, so she had completely missed last night's strange room mix-up. If she had made it, perhaps she would already be accepting Heat's words about this place being more than illogical.

Aigis was having trouble focusing on both her food and Utena's words, so she looked up from her banana and watched the girl properly remove the bean from the pod. Aigis blinked down at the bean, then reached to pick it up. "Oh, thank you, Tenjou-san."

She popped the bean into her mouth and found it to be true; it was easier, and tastier, that way. Smiling, she nodded her head in Utena's direction. "Thank you for teaching me. It is a great help. I'm still quite new to the process of eating to regain energy."

As though her recklessness was a good thing.

Instead of commenting, he continued to eat, listening more intently than his calm mien would suggest. So she was like Senna and had succeeded in mapping out more of the ghost town. And like during his conversation with Senna the day before, his interest was there, sharp and stirring under the surface of his skin.

When it didn’t involve him directly, Aidou couldn’t very well stop Anise from doing (or not doing) dangerous things. That was her choice. The end result, however, might benefit him, and that was what he focused on.

The vampire lifted his gaze from his bowl and fixed it on her. His eyes had gone a deep, deep blue. He didn’t know the girl so well that he could guess whether she’d try to barter for information or not, but dangling her findings with no reason other than to tease would be a bad idea after everything lately. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Without pretence, Aidou said, “Yes. Are you going to tell me?”

Well, at least that seemed to have made the human feel better. "Sure, kid." This Hochstetter must have been a piece of work, if such a seemingly gentle human as Carter was so enthusiastic over the thought of his end.

"It may not work out that clean most of the time," Ratchet said, wondering where Carter got the idea that wars always ended up with the right side winning as some kind of moral imperative. "Our Great Wars started when our enemy faction tried to wipe out all of my kind, and they were run off the planet for their troubles. So, I guess you could say the Decepticons got what they deserved, for all the good it'll do. They'll never change." And it had taken far too many Autobot sparks and far too much of Cybertron to achieve even that much.

Nanaki, as composed and calm, began to nod as Zack spoke. But the mention of a certain scientist set his back hunching up as he growled, every bit a caged animal. He hated Hojo, the vile little man. He could barely be considered human, and Nanaki didn't even like humans much, so that was saying something.

"I've been told he's not responsible. It makes sense. The day time would be much worse if he was."

"Sounds like they'd get on great with the Nazis--that's the guys running Germany, the bad guys." Carter offered a comforting laugh, then cut himself off as he realized it might not be the best thing to do. "I'm glad you won, though. You seem like a pretty nice guy."

Nobody had ever bothered to tell him that wars were more than good side vs. bad side. There was the American Revolution, which they won, and the Civil War and the first World War, and the French had the French Revolution and the war against Napoleon. Newkirk had mentioned a few English wars but Carter hadn't been paying attention and if the good English were in control now they must have won. Seeing the world in black and white came easy to Carter--it was part of what made him such a good saboteur and assassin. The people who died just needed to die.

Edgar paused, jam spread only halfway across the toast on his plate. He brought his good hand to rest under his chin, thinking a moment. "The world I come from is in ruins," he answered truthfully. "A vile man hellbent on becoming a god destroyed it, changing the shape of the land overnight and using his new-found powers to obliterate anyone who opposed him. My home, Figaro, hasn't been seen in months."

It frustrated the king to be trapped within the walls of the institute, unable to help his people survive in the decaying world. If the castle was buried under the sands and unable to surface for any reason, it was only a matter of time before they perished. They couldn't live beneath the ground indefinitely.

"I was with my brother when it happened, but we were separated," he continued, sounding a little less pensive. "I'm confident he's faring better than Figaro. Thankfully, he's far too stubborn to let something like a crazed magician rearranging the face of the world be the end of him."

TK had gone quiet, but Taura knew too much about survivor's guilt to miss that particular nuance. She'd watched Miles sleep -- or try to, after a drop. Quinn had packed sedatives in his kit with a note reading simply If he won't take them, sit on him. He hadn't. She had. It didn't stop him from having nightmares, though it did mean he fell asleep to have them.

"They made fifteen of us. One by one, we started dying." The only good thing about any of it had been that the process had been measured in weeks, not months. "Eventually, I was the only one left. None of the docs know why.". She pulled her braid over her shoulder, tracing one of the grey hairs with a pink fingernail. "To be fair, I was the only sample the had -- House Bharaputra doesn't give away anything, not even failures. So why me?" She shrugged. "Worrying about it won't bring them back, or give me more time. I'm glad you're here." She hesitated for a moment, then continued. "He was too." Armand had been the second person she'd met here, and the first to be taken away. Strange to think that had only been a week ago.

Edited 2010-06-22 22:54 (UTC)

Given all of the problems plaguing many of the patients within Landel's, it seemed unusual that Peter would be so interested in the condition of an individual he did not know, much less someone who bore the same face as the man who he claimed to be so contemptible and dangerous. Logically, it would not have been unthinkable for Peter to attempt to forge an alliance with him in an attempt to destroy or neutralize his roommate. While it was possible he intended to try to mislead Spock for his own purposes, he knew that it was just as likely that Peter was speaking to him out of some sort of moral obligation so as to not see anymore patients put into unnecessary danger at Gabriel's hands. The simple fact was that until there was more solid evidence indicating one or the other, he had no way of knowing for certain.

Now the matter was a question of whether Spock was going to delve into this any deeper than what Peter had told him. While neither himself nor his colleagues were in any immediate danger, if there was truth to Peter's story about this Elle's death, he knew he simply could not ignore the situation, either -- not only for the safety of his colleagues, but for anyone else who could become a victim. On the other hand, he had to prioritize his mission goals for the greater good. As he had decided earlier, the patient population was too large for him to become involved with rivalries and battles carried over from other people's homeworlds. Investing energy in pursuing what could just as well be little more than what humans called a red herring could be detrimental to their ultimate goal of finding a way home. However, the longer he spoke with Peter, the more he understood that assuming he was lying, or that Gabriel would not be an immediate threat if he was telling the truth, could be just as damaging in the long run.

"As you can see, I am uninjured," Spock told Peter. "Furthermore, thus far nothing has transpired between myself and my roommate to warrant any alarm. Should the situation change, however, I shall be sure to contact you as soon as I am able."

For the time being, Peter seemed willing to let the subject drop in favor of other topics of conversation. But he had made references to certain aspects of Gabriel that intrigued Spock too much to let an opportunity to inquire about them pass.

"You mentioned that, under normal circumstances, he uses telekinesis to murder his victims," Spock said. "Please elaborate on how he came to possess such capabilities."

So there was indeed more to the story than Okita had already heard. He had thought as much when Heiji came to him, but he hadn't wanted to say anything to the detective. He was hurt enough thinking that one friend had left him behind that knowing another had been lying to him this entire time would have broken what faith he had in his most important friendship here. Okita was determined to ensure that wouldn't happen, and to ensure that Kaito remained free from prison.

"Tell me everything," Okita said, setting his fork down as he leaned both elbows on the table. Without all of the puzzle pieces, Okita would have no idea how to put this mess back together or if that were even possible. He had pledged to help keep Kaito's secret and so he wanted to protect that promise, but only if he had all the information necessary. "What happened that night? I can't ask Kudou-kun for his side or it would look suspicious."

Raine hesitated; she could remove the Exsphere, but she was afraid to for multiple reasons. She settled on moving her wrist closer to the girl in something of a compromise.

"How are blastia formed?" Enough with the lecturing, she wanted a real back-and-forth, especially now that she was so intrigued at the idea of another world having something so much like what hers did. Maybe she could even get more information about Gels...

"It's nice to have them around, and at the same time I wish they weren't here. I'm sure you know what I mean." They were the same feelings he was sure more people in the Institute held who had others around from their own world. No one wanted to look happy that their friends were trapped with them, but they didn't want to be alone either.

Cloud didn't see any reason why he shouldn't share that information, especially since it was perfectly harmless. Plenty of patients had friends here, or just others they knew. And in any case, he didn't particularly find Matt all they threatening, smirk or no. If the kid did turn out to be a bad sort, the blond was sure any one of his friends could kick his ass - Aerith included.

"What about you?" He'd said he wasn't going to pry, but as Matt was apparently interested in conversation after all, he might as well ask mostly harmless questions back.

"What could be weirder than using your facial hair to lasso sea creatures?" Morgan asked, then looked up from her food to Guybrush's expression and decided she really didn't want to know. Maybe she'd just let those particular legends stay intact in her mind.

But she wasn't about to let his next statement go. Had he seriously thought DeSinge was responsible for what had happened to her? Even more insulting than his complete lack of listening comprehension were the implications. How could he possibly think she was such an utter wuss?!

"Guybrush, I told you who stabbed me!" she burst out, punctuating her words with increasingly broad gestures with her fork. "Weren't you listening? The last thing I said to you was clearly, 'Don't trust LeChuck. He hypnotized a bunch of monkeys and ran me through with my own blade'! I would have been better off saying my dying words to Jacques!" God, she knew the guy had his flaky moments--okay, sometimes it was more like he had occasional moments when he wasn't being flaky--but couldn't he pay attention for five seconds when it was was a matter of life and death? Literally?!

"Although good job on that DeSinge thing," she added as an afterthought, even though she knew she probably shouldn't be encouraging him. "That powder-faced pansy and his freaky finger definitely had it coming."

Memories of that fight with Mello the night before fluttered through his mind, and Matt grimaced a little, sagging more in his chair. He didn't exactly like where the conversation was headed - or that there was a conversation at all - but he was hard-pressed to find anything out of the ordinary about it. The stuff Cloud wanted to know was the same type of thing he could probably find out from just about anybody with eyes at Landel's - especially considering that both Matt and that skinny blond freak that used to be his friend had apparently already been at the facility, and just didn't remember. People were sure to recognize him, which was something that hadn't occurred to him before, but it was sure occurring to him now.

The sedation had worked surprisingly well for clearing his head of any bullshit, and it was proving much easier to think logically without the withdrawal in the way. As far as Matt could tell, there really seemed to be no harm in disclosing a few more facts that could be just as easily obtained elsewhere.

He took another bite of the blasted waffle. "Yeah, I've a friend here." He kept his voice low. "The only one I know of so far, but 've only been here a day." He shifted, uncomfortable again.

Meche wiped her fingers carefully on her napkin and opened the journal from the back, leafing through to find the first blank page so she wouldn't read anything Remy had written if he wanted to keep it private. The first blank page turned out to be the first page in the journal anyway, though. In large, deliberately clean print, she started writing out the alphabet, Aa Bb Cc...

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that the Scarecrow was staring down at his tray, looking troubled. At first she thought he hadn't understood her explanation, but then he nodded as if it had made sense. Meche wasn't sure what about the conversation could have been bothering him--it had just been a pretty simple exchange--but she didn't want to pry. Maybe it didn't have to do with what they were talking about at all; she knew as well as anyone how many reasons there were to get into a funk in here.

She kept making letters as she answered Remy's question. "Oh, of course there are movies about animals! Some really wonderful ones. Dogs probably get most of them, but there have been movies about horses and cats and pigs and even mice." Meche smiled down at the page. "Why, are you an animal lover too, Remy?"

A long moment of silence passed as Leonard considered Dent's words, the wheels in his head turning over and over as he tried to find something he could latch onto, something he'd said that could be understood. Maybe he had lost his mind, or he and this Jones were having some sort of shared hallucination induced by the layout of a room; maybe Dent was telling the absolute truth, and he really had been transported somehow to another area just by walking through a door. But how could he ever know what was real?

Leonard looked at his notes, his pen still resting on the paper, a blot of ink forming under the nib. He knew he could fully trust what he'd written and the photographs he carried: they were the only concrete evidence he had of his time in the institute and what he'd experienced. Just because I don't remember doesn't mean it never happened, even if it sounds incredible. He took a deep breath- the world didn't just disappear. He had to believe he could trust himself, even if he'd lost his own mind. There was no one else on his side.

He still faced a dilemma: take what Dent was saying with a grain of salt, or believe him for now. He wouldn't have time to think about it later and make sense of it- there was no later for someone with his condition. His eyes landed on his hand- Remember Sammy Jankis. He couldn't adjust. He didn't have a system.

After scribbling one more note to himself, he set his pen down, taking a bite of dry toast. He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of how to handle such doubt. "I probably have this much doubt every time someone explains this place to me," he said with a shake of his head. "I know I can trust my notes- you learn your handwriting when you're like this, learn to look for clues and facts you've left yourself. It's just a hard pill to swallow, this being... really unbelievable."

Touya nodded. He was glad Yuki wasn't afraid of visitors, since part of him still felt slightly guilty for the visit Yuki had endured with 'Lily and Thomas'. Not that it was his fault, but Nakuru hanging on his arm didn't exactly match Yuki's experience.

"I'm still nervous that dad might show up," Touya confessed, staring down at his plate and picking at the food as though deciding what to eat first. He didn't have as wide a selection as Yuki had, though.

"But honestly Akizuki worries me more," he said, pulling a face. "I can't imagine what she'd do if I told her you and I were... you know."

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Day 50: Cafeteria (Brunch)

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