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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He had almost missed her as well, but the clatter had managed to pull attention to the foreground. Despite the exhaustion involved, Nigredo stared, analysis working to place physical features into recognizable categories. Dark hair, bright eyes. Yes, he remembered her. Senna was the one who wouldn't believe him unless he smiled.

Lying was preferable, but this girl was strange when it came to that. Nigredo, therefore, went the shortened route. "As expected," he said hoarsely. His throat throbbed as he spoke.

The still gaze drifted to the other's arm, and something like concern passed behind Nigredo's eyes. "You're hurt, however."

Again, the no emotions route. If there was ever a kid that gave away less than he did.... Senna would have sighed, brushed a hand through her bangs as usual if she hadn't caught sight of darkened skin. "Yeah, well," she started carefully, moving her good hand to indicate his bad. "You, too."

Maybe that wasn't fair. But she understood too well how you got bruises on your neck. And something like that.... "A patient reached his limit here." So simple, huh? In those words. "And we had to stop him before he hurt anyone else. That's all." Too heavy those words. Said too lightly. This wouldn't do, with her new resolution.

Oh. She had a good eye. The observation, however, did little in moving Nigredo. Many people got hurt here; a return indication meant nothing beyond that. "Ah, I suppose," he replied. The child sounded uncommitted as usual, as though agreeing to today's forecast.

He did, however, give pause in her next words. A patient reaching a limit was more than perfectly understood. If Nigredo actually stopped to consider the fact, he would have known even without the hospital's mechanics. His gaze dropped on automatic, the implications obvious. "I'm sorry."

And this was a fine start. Already she had faltered when faced with turmoil. She could continue this route, question him on his own, and sink down again. Or something else. Why, now, was it so hard to think of that something? When before, it came so simple.

So she ignored the apology; a response would only keep that theme. Instead, instead she would... "Do you like 'get-to-know-me' games?" The question was light, a passing wonder. She took a bite of her food and chewed slowly. She wanted to remember how to forget. But wasn't that hypocritical? Especially here, with this boy. Yeah. That's right. She guessed instead, she would have to remember. But memories were never something so simple.

"'Get-to-know-me'?" Nigredo repeated slowly, surprise gracing his features. For yet another time, he momentarily forgot himself, others, and the situations involved and stared at Senna. Unabashed curiosity would, as always, prove to be a weak point with this variant. "I don't know. I've never played them."

Of course, he had gotten to know others, but through games, not so much. Nigredo wanted to ask on the sudden change of topics, and he very well might have, if the point hadn't been obvious. You did not bring up games with a child out of the blue and expect no notice. But for now, he would let this pass. A distract was a distraction; he would take what came to him.

Ah, there was the child underneath the adult stillness. The surprise seen was reassuring, and actually... pretty cute. Nigredo was still a little kid and the fact that he had to be here was just wrong. Still, Senna smiled lightly, keeping the theme. "Alright," she said slowly. "Then you're playing with me, sir."

The girl tilted her head congenially. "It's simple. We ask questions back and forth to learn about each other. And you have to answer them. It can be really fun," she explained. "And you can learn a lot about someone. So. Nigredo." Senna's expression grew serious, intensity sharpened to a point.

Then she grinned. "What's your favorite color?"

...When had he agreed to play? Regardless of that answer, it seemed Senna was set on participation. Nigredo found the enthusiasm a little off, but again, a distraction. It might do well to indulge her.

Maybe. He eyed the sharp change in the older girl's expression with suspicion. There were a number of questions one can ask that would cross a line; however, he didn't think she would do so. At least, the boy hoped that was the case. "Red." An eyebrow quirked. "Yours?"

And what was this? Now two people, complete strangers, starting off with this question and giving the same answer. For a beat she stared, then grinned brightly, tilting her head to the side. Her hand went up to touch her ribbon for emphasis. "Red. Naturally. Good choice."

She slid her elbow on the table, leaning her chin in her hand. "But you get another question. I'll give you my answers to my questions for free." It kept a balance, after all. No one would want to ask a question that they didn't want to answer themselves. Took away some results, sure, but. It was supposed to be fun. Not destructive. There was well enough of that around here.

How curious. Nigredo had expected another color from this one. He supposed there still existed things he could wonder at.

Like a question. Senna had presented a situation where the child had to offer something in return. Honestly, he hadn't really done so before, at least in the form of a game. To give and to expect a return were not normal features of what one would think as "fun". So this was entirely new territory.

The plate before him fortunately gave way to an idea. "Okay, then what do you like to eat?"

Oh? This question, huh? "Everything. Mostly," she answered with a straight-face. "I can't really choose. I like everything that you can eat." Truth in all its entirety. Just...not lately. Ah, well.

A question. Well. She smiled slightly. "Do you have friends here?"

Everything? That bordered on gluttonous for the variant--never mind it wasn't Senna's intention to give the impression. As a lifelong picky eater, he never considered the prospect of devouring just anything to be very admirable. "I'm kind of the opposite," he admitted. "I don't like many things. Mashed potatoes are tolerable, though." By which he meant he enjoyed them well enough.

"Friends?" In this place? Despite a brother close by and one trusted individual, he didn't know if either counted. If any counted. Friends were something like Sakura to Rubedo: someone important on both sides. Though he would extend the offer to perhaps Klavier, he would not know if the sentiment would be returned. And rejection was so...

The question had obviously taken the child aback, and without conscious thought, his eyes found their way to his plate. "I don't know." Maybe he didn't.

If he had asked? He would have been right. Senna bordered gluttonous on her best day--she won a food eating contest with a tray overflowing with hot dogs after all. That counted in some places, people would think.

But for Nigredo's answer... It was too sad. Too sad for a girl who wasn't supposed to exist. Children... No, not even. Everyone should have someone that they could call friend. Someone that they could count on. She watched him. "Then I'll be your friend." It wasn't a joke, or something that light. "I'm a pretty good one. I won't walk away so easy."

Nigredo glanced up, the wonder now locked on Senna's offer. Which hardly made sense. Why even extend a hand of friendship to him? She didn't even-- "But you don't know me," he muttered.

And she didn't. The teenager had yet to be informed of Nigredo's origins and misdeeds, and the child did not know how she would react to them. If Klavier's reactions were of any indication, perhaps she would feel the same. Or worse. You simply did not become friends with a weapon and expect normalcy such as bonds. Sakura was an exception, and she had not lasted very long.

Edited 2010-06-18 08:41 (UTC)

"It doesn't matter," she replied without hesitation. She, of all people, couldn't be asked to judge someone on who they were. What they were. "I'll still be your friend. I'll stand by you."

She knew the words were just that. People didn't expect them, and doubted them. She knew that. But Senna would still hold to them. That was her way of life. She might mix fact and fiction, withhold details, and flit around the truth, but she kept her word. "And you seem like you need a friend. You know?"

He hadn't thought to need a friend. Granted, Nigredo had always existed with niggling bouts of isolation, but he had never once entertained friendship as the solution. Either Senna or he was skewed in their thinking, and at this moment, the U.R.T.V. held no clue as to which was correct. Do you stay with what was familiar or step out to the unknown?

The train of logic reached a dead end. Nigredo fingered the wrappings on his left hand, as if to recall the broken trust associated with the injury. He could say many things to her words, but none seemed right. "I didn't know," he finally confessed. "I didn't think I needed a friend."

Because he was the type to be alone. To handle life and its waves alone. Not even his own family was a part of that so what made this any different?

Senna smiled at that. "Everybody needs someone." The girl shrugged. "In some way. Life's a lot better when you're not all by yourself." Maybe she was wrong. Wouldn't be the first time. But the way he had answered her. Echoing the word, and then claiming to be unsure. And now his words. I didn't think I needed a friend. Had Nigredo ever had anyone like that?

She glanced at him. "Have you had friends before here?"

The words were so simple, so straightforward in their logic, and in them, Nigredo found the flaw. Everyone might have needed someone, but that sentiment did not guarantee fulfillment. Existence might be better with another, but what if there was none to begin with?

When had this game gotten so far off its intended path?

Her question was mulled over, then denied. "We weren't allowed to have friends." Sakura was, in the end, the research subject. Their responsibility. She did not count in that respect. As for others... "I only had siblings."

She could ask the same question. Wasn't this supposed to create something light? And here was the opposite, a heavy subject to weigh them down. If not for the words used, she might have changed subjects. "...Not allowed?" The girl looked surprised, and then it shifted fluidly to anger.

"Who would tell you that? That's horrible!" What was Nigredo? Ten, eleven? What kind of person would tell a child that? Not that they couldn't, or shouldn't, but weren't allowed. How cruel. How completely cruel.

~A darkened closet under the stairs, locked and fastened tight. There was yelling, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, and then nothing but silence. She might have slept. She might have just stared in the darkness. But she didn't cry. She knew better. The last time, when they found her with tears when they opened the door--~

Senna let out a gasp, sitting back in her chair and pressing her hand to her eyes. Her chest heaved for breath. Nice. Very nice. Hard to drive a point home when you're acting like a crazy person. "Sorry. I..." And like last night, there was no explanation suitable. "Just. No one can tell you... not to have friends."

The shifts in emotion were taken as they were, the child knowing somewhere in the exchanged answers that he had spoken the wrong phrase. Again. Green eyes looked to the food a third time, only now they were filled with a form of shame. He had never meant to give the impression their lives were horrible, and he certainly never wanted to evoke the kind of discomfort Senna had just shown. The same Klavier had demonstrated previously.

It might not have been his fault for being a child soldier, and one may illuminate the point in multiple lights, but that did nothing to remove the fact that it was wrong. Nigredo had to wonder precisely how they'd managed so comfortably in the past. Before they were brought here.

Rather than addressing her statements immediately, Nigredo pressed his fingertips into the wrappings and thought of workarounds. If she was not feeling well or found the subject to be upsetting, there was only one path he could take. "We shouldn't talk about this," he started quietly. "I've already said more than enough."

Breaths came unsteady. She found herself focusing on them. "You haven't said anything, really," she answered. Not more than what she had asked, by any rate. Senna didn't know anything about Nigredo, other than he was very possibly a really depressed kid. And something cut away from the rest of the world.

"If you don't want to, you know have to," she went on, lowering her hand from her face to look at him. Who told you, stuff like that was the wrong way to start this, wasn't it? Maybe something lighter. Easier than what wasn't allowed. "But what about your siblings? Weren't you friends with them?"

Signs were taken and compared. Nigredo could not accept her words as fact: if he hadn't said anything, then-- The child cleared his throat. "Why are you upset, then?" he muttered, chancing a tentative glance upward. The statement was facetious; he did not really expect much of a response in return.

The subsequent questions, however, he could entertain, albeit the boy appeared torn on the subject. As if there existed two answers he could say. "...I saw them as friends."

There. In this there was something easier. "They saw you as the same. I'm sure of it." Because she had had (flashes) siblings, too, of each and every kind. And even when-- Darker images moved past her mind and her expression wavered. To be echoed in his question.

A lie. Something simple at this rate, at least here. That would be what was easiest, after all. But she had wanted him to open up. And with kids, even more than other adults, you had to give something in return. "I remember things." To say the least. "In certain times, I remember a lot of things and they're usually nothing good. Everyone's worst memories lately..." The girl went on in a murmur. "Nothing but nightmares."

Senna took a breath and looked back up at him. "And that was right then. So that's why I was upset." She smiled lightly. "I'm sorry, Nigredo."

Perhaps. Perhaps Senna was correct. Perhaps his brothers indeed viewed Nigredo as a friend. That sort of assurance should smooth over a ruffle or two, should it not? The boy, however, had already moved far and beyond the topic. One could even say his mind was made up days before the question was put forth.

Nothing existed, therefore, in dwelling on friendships. Instead, he tugged uncomfortably at the bindings around his broken hand, his mind replaying her words. She remembered things. Nothing good. When you thought about any of those elements carefully, you found her reaction to be natural. Which happened precisely to Nigredo.

"You shouldn't apologize for that," he finally answered, voice small. "No one can help what they remember."

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Day 50: Cafeteria (Brunch)

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