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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Sechs woke up slowly and reluctantly in a miserable mix of hot and cold, pain and sweat. Groaning, he found himself buried under two thick layers of blankets again, yet despite the extra coverings, his back stayed cool compared to the rest of his smothered body. After a minute of more begrudged grumbling and struggling with the mess of blankets, he managed to drag himself out of bed. Yet as soon as he had freed himself from the heavy covers, the sweat that drenched his skin seemed to suck in the cold air of the room, sending Sechs on a roller coaster of temperatures. Shivering (and swearing) furiously, Sechs struggled to pull his soaked clothes off.

Dammit, what was that drug doing to him? He hated feeling so tangled up in that sick sweat! And it didn't help that a friendly (but very squeamish) nurse walked into his room in the midst of his unclothed state. After a lot of admonishment from the nurse and her "encouragement" to get Sechs into a fresh new uniform, the redressed Replica was lead out of his room by the usual pair of bulky orderlies and his (still blushing) nurse. Sechs could only growl quietly under his breath at his unwanted company. Was that the best the staff here could do? Deny the torture he had been put through, give him extra blankets to sleep in and throw needles at him when he didn't go quietly?!

Once they had left the patient hallways and entered the sun room, Sechs' eyes stung from the bright afternoon sun that gleamed through the windows. Wasn't it supposed to be morning now? "Crap... How long did I sleep in?" Sechs groggily asked, rubbing at his sore eyes with a fist.

"Just for the morning, Cody," his nurse answered, "You weren't feeling so well last night and needed more sleep--"

"Heh, I sure as hell wasn't feeling 'well' last night!" Sechs scoffed, sending a glare at the two orderlies who flanked him.

The nurse went on as though determined to ignore her patient's comment. "Yesterday's weather has gotten a lot of patients feeling a bit ill, I'm afraid. Today should be much better though! Now go and get yourself something to eat, I'm sure you'll feel better then!"

Anxious to get away from the nurse and fill up his painfully empty and loudly growling stomach, Sechs took little time to barge his way into the buffet (while shoving people away in his wake) and grabbed every meat-related meal he could get. By the time he had nestled himself down with his pile of food into a solitary corner, Sechs was already ravaging up a hapless burger with beastly gusto and a brooding glare in his eyes. His body's need to feed was on autopilot while his brain grounded away over last night's events.

So last night was just another stupid game Landel brewed up for everyone. Figures... Thinking over that bastard's pompous announcement before the night ended left a bitter taste that no amount of burgers and hot dogs could erase. But the night wasn't a complete waste though. Not only had he learned valuable knowledge of the institute's basement, but he also gained a better understanding of his ally, Forte. It was too bad that it was such a painful one though... All it did was feed into his already enormous hatred of the place.

[hope you don't mind~]

Kratos had crashed almost as soon as they had reached the institute. This wasn't exactly a new and unfamiliar experience; he'd had episodes of fatigue before, and so far had chalked them up to his body trying to regain all of the lost hours of sleep it had sustained over four thousand years. At least, that was hopefully the cause.

It was difficult to decipher what exactly had gone on during the time where he'd been out cold, though, and in the end, Kratos hadn't bothered with the bulletin board at all and let his nurse prod him toward the cafeteria where a meal would presumably shake the last of the tiredness from his system.

Kratos took more food than usual and wandered through the cafe in search of an open seat. Knowing that he couldn't be too picky, he slid into the nearest one, which unfortunately happened to be next to a rather angry-looking young man. But then, everyone was young in Kratos's eyes.

"Good morning," he said tentatively. It was still morning, wasn't it?

Chomping up the last bit of his burger, Sechs became dislodged from his thoughts at the arrival of a stranger taking a seat next to him. Not bothering to move his shaggy head, only Sechs' eyes shifted to catch a glance at his new table mate, who looked just a tad wary beneath his burgundy hair.

"Hrmph," was his only reply to the other patient's greeting as he began tearing away at a piece of chicken. He was still grumpy and a tad chilly from his uncomfortable awakening, but at least this stranger wasn't rubbing that in by saying "good afternoon" instead. Deciding to tolerate this newcomer for now, Sechs continued his messy consumption of his meaty meal without complaint.

'Hrmph' didn't exactly stir up any stimulating conversation, but Kratos hadn't been after that in the first place, so he was satisfied by the response: it meant that he could have a little peace and quiet without needing to deal with someone for an hour.

He picked through the assortment of food on his plate and decided that the pizza would be the first to go. It was turning into some sort of strange ritual, eating pizza. Looking as if he did this all the time, Kratos slid his plastic knife underneath the cheese and lifted it all off of the crust. He set the mess aside and then began wiping the tomato sauce off into a neat pile next to the cheese.

Tidy mangling of his food complete, Kratos hacked off a bit of the cheese piled on his plate and began eating his lunch. He glanced at the young man next to him, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief: this man had eating habits a little more conspicuous than his.

There was a soft snort of mild satisfaction before Sechs' yellow eyes trailed back to his food and pondering. So far his new lunch partner wasn't presenting any annoying distractions, which was fine according to Sechs' hunger, since by now he had already finished his first drumstick and was already attacking another. He almost returned to his brooding when he felt himself sidetracked once again. In the corner of his eye, he noticed the stranger doing something weird to his pizza. He blinked. Was the guy trying to dissect it or something?

No longer able to ignore the other youth's odd choice of eating style, Sechs hauled his attention away from his plate and thoughts and back towards the possibly very finicky stranger. "What's wrong? Don't like the crust or something?" he managed to grumble out through a mouthful of food, not bothering to stop a small bit of chicken from tumbling out of his mouth and onto the plate below.

He had begun to think that he would get away with eating like this for the rest of the lunch period, but as usual, he had hoped for a little too much. At least Raine had limited herself to only a raise of the eyebrow. Kratos froze in the middle of cutting off another piece of his "pizza" and appeared to be seriously debating with himself upon the merits of responding.

"I do not care for tomatoes," he finally said tightly. There. Explained. As if to disprove the other man's assumption, he sawed off a piece of the crust and ate that next.

Sechs tilted his head, blinking at the stranger's reply, then finally gave an aloof shrug. "Uh, alright then."

The Replica would have left it at that, but the rough night and the lousy morning that followed it didn't put Sechs into the most benevolent mood. Eyes shifting away from his table mate's neatly arranged meal to his own messily butchered lunch, Sechs' sight homed into the pizza on his plate -- which happened to have a particularly thick tomato slice.

"Hmm, I don't really care much for tomatoes either," Sechs remarked with a hint of a vicious smirk on his face as he picked up the juicy piece of tomato with his fingers, "How 'bout you throw it out with the rest of the tomatoes for me...?"

Sechs didn't give the stranger time to answer. There was a flick of his hand, and the red slice flew towards the other youth's lunch -- and landed right on top of his pile of cheese with a soft "splat!"

"Whoops!" Sechs said, not sounding one bit remorseful no thanks to his barely repressed chuckling. "Looks like my aim slipped a little there!"

Kratos had seen the prank coming a mile away; the nasty look on the other man's face made his intent crystal clear. If he were several thousand years younger and in the mess hall back in Meltokio, he might have actually thrown something back and resigned himself to the possibility of a food fight, but Kratos had already had his fill in this place of having food dumped on him.

Really, at least this was salvageable. At least it wasn't orange juice.

One eyebrow rose as the swordsman flicked the offending slice of tomato to the side with his knife and resumed eating his lunch. "It's perfectly fine. I'm well aware that some minds are incapable of proper depth perception in both meanings of the word."

Despite Sechs' mean-spirited amusement, there was a spark of anger in his yellow eyes at the other patient's words. Leaving the rest of his food in peace for now, his smirk grew toothy as he watched the red-haired patient dispose of the offending tomato off his cheese.

"Oh? Just what are you saying there, huh?" he asked with a challenging tone, "I wasn't aiming for your face, if that's what you mean." He then plucked out another tomato slice with his hand, giving it a mischievous flick between his fingers. "But I can show ya how good my aim usually is by throwing this right between your eyes!" he added with an increasingly wide grin.

Kratos frowned. Was this man actively looking for a fight? It was...rather early for that, wasn't it? He considered the mental image of him with a tomato slice slapped over the bridge of his nose. It was a little mortifying, he had to admit. He could only hope that a certain ninja didn't choose to look his way any time soon because Kratos could see that this complete undesirable outcome had an uncomfortably high chance of occurring.

"That wasn't at all what I was implying," he said, keeping his voice neutral and light (which typically had the opposite effect with these types, he had found).

Sechs returned the other man's frown with an aggressive grin. So far things didn't look to be leading towards an intense fight or an uprising against the institute, but just some silly little food fight with an unfortunate stranger. Despite it all, any outlet for Sechs to vent out his frustration, no matter how stupid it may be, was starting to look far more appetizing than the rest of his hearty meal.

"So then just what were you implying, huh?" he growled, feinting a toss of his red projectile with another threatening flick of his wrist, just to see how much he could freak out his finicky seat mate. "You saying I'm stupid or something?!"

If that were the case, the other youth had better be ready to duck his head...

[agh I know this is so late (notifs failed again); are you alright with a short backthread?]

Kratos sighed and shook his head. Kids. Honestly. "It was a two-way implication. One suggested that your tomato 'misfire' was due to a failure in visual depth perception; the other suggested that it was due to a lack of mental maturity. Both are understandable excuses, although I'm well aware that only one may have applied."

This time, when Sechs flicked the tomato slice toward him again, Kratos's right hand shot up and snatched most of the tomato out of the young man's hand, leaving a small piece still in his grasp. He wiped his hand in a napkin and fixed his neighbor with an intense stare.

"Really, I think it would be best to end this foolishness."

Now Sechs' mischievous grin had become a nasty grimace. He could have far cared less for the other man's response, or the reminder of just how slow his organic body was. In his original form, Sechs could have easily set that tomato into a plasma ball and thrown it at his table mate's face in a heartbeat -- or better yet, up Landel's ass! Instead, his eatable weapon was instantly ripped away before he could have used it to its full potential. He returned the other man's stare with a snarl.

What remained of his artillery was dropped back upon the slice of pizza -- but it wasn't left alone just yet. Sechs' fingers curled around the pizza's crust with the same tenseness as a soldier prepping a live grenade.

So finicky "Mr. Phobic of Tomatoes" thought Sechs to be "immature", huh?! It was true that Sechs was just barely two years old, but he knew he was far smarter and tougher than most people who've only lived such a handful of years! He hated being called stupid, and he wasn't going to let the guy get away with that!

"Well I don't!" he retorted, swiftly picking up the tomato-encrusted pizza and flinging it towards his target in a blur of scattering cheese and crust--

"Just WHAT are you doing Cody?!"

The flying pizza stopped in the midst of its flight at the sudden arrival of a nurse and a shadowing orderly. With the pizza hanging limply in his hand, Sechs paused, shooting an angry glare at the interrupting staff. A hint of a needle within the nurse's hand told Sechs she already knew of the little battle he was pursuing, and that she wasn't going to let it start under her watch. Seeing the syringe sent a twinge of pain in his back, and Sechs angrily returned the pizza back to his plate with a dull "plop"!

"Nothing!" Sechs snarled, feeling himself grow hot in the face with infuriated disappointment. "Was just fooling around. That's all..."

The nurse seemed satisfied with his answer and left, but knowing that she would be watching him from a distance now, Sechs reluctantly gave up on bugging his table mate. With that major put down, Sechs was forced to eat his own words -- and the pizza with its tomatoes as well.

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Day 50: Cafeteria (Brunch)

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