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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Franziska woke up sputtering in a fury, but was rather surprised to find herself nice and dry. Or rather, she would have been surprised if she'd been anywhere else and had experienced anything other than the previous night's events. As it was, she just felt her anger rise at the sight of her perfectly dry clothes and the feel of her perfectly dry hair. It was enough to make her sick. She'd been dropped into the middle of the freezing rain and there wasn't even any evidence to support what she'd gone through!

And then she was treated to the announcement that she'd had a light fever in the morning so they hadn't even woken her! These useless fools in this useless institute were trying to ruin her schedule!

It didn't take long for the nurse to fetch her and for Franziska to stalk into the cafeteria, looking like she was ready to commit a capital crime on the first person to try and pull any funny business on her. She was given a tray with the things she requested - granola, yogurt, some fruit and tea being a simple and healthy meal - and then proceeded to try and calm down as she searched for a seat. She needed her wits about her in this place and if her unnecessary punishment of Battler proved anything last night, it was that she was getting too hotheaded for her own good. She needed to think logically and crush her opponent, in this case, Martin Landel.

And one other, who she had the misfortune of laying her eyes on as soon as she crossed the room.

Manfred von Karma, current suspect in the attempted murder of one Miles Edgeworth, recently released. The evidence was building against him - two eyewitness accounts, identification by the victim himself, lack of an alibi for the night in question, and now the baseball bat. She had the things she needed to dust for prints and tonight, she'd do just that. The only problem was, Franziska wasn't sure she wanted to see the prints left on the handle of that baseball bat.

Walking up to her father, Franziska balanced the tray in one hand and curtsied politely as she always did when greeting her father. He had tea and some soup, but not much else which was a little concerning. "Papa, may I have the honor of joining you?"

Just as he had finished filling out one of the forms, requesting a healthier selection of food served for lunch and -- more importantly to him -- tea that didn't taste as false to his tongue as the testimonies his defendants spewed while he prosecuted them, von Karma noticed his daughter approaching his table, tray in hand. At least she appeared well; though he had stayed in his room all night, something peculiar -- even for this hellhole -- had apparently occurred last night, if the snippets of overheard conversation and strange questions on the bulletin board held any credibility.

He would have preferred to have no company, given his physical state, but to turn Franziska away would make him seem even more suspect. Besides, he had a piece of information to pass to her... and questions regarding several of the other patients here. Therefore, he set his pen down and nodded to her, motioning to the empty space next to him. "Yes, you may, Franziska. Please be seated." As he spoke, he discovered that his voice's ordinarily smooth and flawless timbre bore a slight rasp to it. Damn Martin Landel for subjecting him to those cold germs and for sending him out in the pouring rain yesterday!

His voice was lacking its usual power and Franziska glanced at his meal with a much more critical eye. Soup and tea alone coupled with the slight rasp in his throat meant a sore throat of all things and a sore throat could be from two things: yelling or a cold. Since Manfred von Karma had little reason to yell here that she could see, that would mean a cold was the likely culprit. She would need more evidence to support her theory, but she had the verdict she'd be looking to prove. That blasted Landel had kept them all in the rain yesterday so this was a likely outcome. How could he not realize?!

"Danke, Papa." She bowed again and set her tray down, pulling her chair out to sit primly on the edge of her seat like usual. First, she'd get the pleasantries out of the way and then she'd serve him a verbal subpoena. She told herself it was out of respect for her father, but really? She was worried about that cold. "The tea here is inferior, don't you think? I do wish they'd wise up and learn to serve quality products."

From the way Franziska suddenly peered at the elder prosecutor's meager lunch after he had spoken, he could tell that she had taken note of his current condition. Blast it! He wouldn't have even come out here had he not been thirsty. No, it had absolutely nothing to do with the smarmy, grinning nurse holding the syringe in her hand, threatening to humiliate him into making a public appearance this morning.

Despite Franziska's apparent appraisal of his current state, it appeared from the formal manner in which she seated herself that she had approached him on a professional matter. Which could only mean one thing: she had gathered new information on her investigation... or perhaps had even completed it. Ergo, it was even more important than ever to maintain a steel facade... and to patch up that tiny chink that had manifested in his voice.

In response to her question, he sipped his tea just enough to clear his throat, then grimaced in disdain at the foul taste. Yes, there was a discrepancy between pure tea and this bastardized excuse for it, never mind what the unrefined tea enthusiasts claimed; anyone who couldn't taste the difference between regular and decaffeinated tea had no right to call themselves connoisseurs!

"Indeed." Thankfully, the bitter fluid had served its purpose; while deeper than usual, von Karma's voice sounded clear again. "It's but one of the many areas of improvement I'm addressing to the administration," he pointed to the form he had just finished. "For all the good it will likely do, given that the head of this hellhole is a complete lunatic," he scoffed. "Hmph."

"At any rate," he set the paper aside and turned to face Franziska head on, "I do have some information to pass on and some questions to ask of you. First, the information: I encountered Chief Prosecutor Skye yesterday in Doyleton. She asked me to tell you that she wishes to speak to you again, though she didn't say on what matter." As he waited for Franziska to process this, von Karma's expression remained impassive.

Edited 2010-06-21 00:28 (UTC)

Hm...perhaps she was hasty in assuming his lack of appetite and a slight edge to his voice indicated a cold. After a sip of the pseudo-tea, his voice seemed to have regained its usual clarity and commanding presence. Maybe he was simply watching what he ate here, seeing how the food was distressingly American and wholly unhealthy in its options most of the time. She'd chosen her breakfast carefully to optimize the energy she'd get out of it while minimizing the amounts of fat, but she saw what other patients were eating and it frankly turned her stomach. The swill people subjected themselves to in the name of "taste" made her seriously doubt their ability to taste anything at all.

Her eyes followed his gesture to the paper and she nodded in approval. "But not even a complete lunatic could ignore a voice of reason like yours, Papa." Or she'd personally see to it that Landel received a proper beating for his insolence. No one denied her Papa anything he rightfully deserved and proper tea was such a small thing. She was certain everyone here would appreciate it if they had half a brain.

When he set the paper aside, Franziska felt her heart leap into her throat. Was he addressing the case already?! She wasn't ready! Her notes were-- "Ah, Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye. Yes, we met the other day to discuss a personal matter. I will inform her that I am willing to continue the conversation at her convenience." Franziska released a mental sigh of relief. It was just about her conversation with Lana, which was admittedly quite strange, but otherwise had been of no real consequence to her and her case. Now came the hard part, however. Steelling her nerves, Franziska started on her breakfast and asked, "And what questions did you have for me, Papa?"

"Oh, but Dear Daughter, indeed some have failed to heed my voice of reason." The corner of von Karma's mouth twitched up in a subtle sneer. "In the end, they all pay for their foolish noncompliance. I always make certain of that." As he spoke, his smirk grew more menacing, while a predatory glint shone from his eyes. "Martin Landel shall be no exception." Yes, the Head Lunatic would be the elder prosecutor's greatest challenge yet... and he would see to it that he would single-handedly trounce this smarmy adversary in a court of law. While nowhere near as satisfying as victory over State vs. Edgeworth would have been, the prospect of serving Landel his comeuppance for everything he'd put the prosecutor through was still delectable.

As Franziska acknowledged the relayed request to speak to Ms. Skye again, von Karma said nothing but studied her silently for clues as to what this "personal matter" could have been. Most likely, it was related to Ms. Skye's younger sister, as the Chief Prosecutor had hinted during their conversation yesterday. But was it possible that his superior and his daughter had discussed him or the investigation surrounding him?

...And for that matter, why had he waited until today to pass on this information? He'd already had the opportunity to do so during their bus ride back; why had he not mentioned it to her then? Though his outward expression remained neutral, he seethed inside at the very one he had just vowed revenge upon, his determination bolstered by the thought of what that experimental torture session had done to him.

It was just in the nick of time that he recalled what it was he had planned to ask Franziska, her voice bringing him back to the here and now. He folded his arms and drew in a deep breath -- dear Lord, was that an audible wheeze? Damn this cold! -- before speaking. "I noticed Mr. Gavin's message on the board that was addressed to you. Just what did he mean by whether you had 'woken up in one piece,' Franziska?" The elder prosecutor's eyebrows steepened in a disapproving frown. "Did that relation to a despicable defense attorney try to drag you into any kind of nonsense?"

When she was a child, she wouldn't have found her father's statement threatening. It would merely have been a proclamation of his perfection, of his absolute rule in the courtroom and the way he would bring justice to the fools who dared break the law. Now that she was older and had seen his fall, those words carried far more weight and caused Franziska to set her jaw in an effort to keep emotion from registering on her face. At the very least, this time his ire was pointed toward a deserving subject, but Franziska worried now that he might take the law into his own hands and once again ignore the word of Justice that they were supposedly sworn to uphold.

Which brought Franziska's mind back to the ongoing investigation. Once she fingerprinted tonight, she would need Scruffy as a witness to the interrogation and trial. Making a mental note to call the detective as soon as the shift was over, Franziska returned to the conversation at hand just in time to catch a barely audible wheeze in her father's voice. He was getting ill! This damned place had allowed the great Manfred von Karma to catch a common cold! What blasphemy was this?!

"We traveled together by happenstance last night when the doors threw up all over creation. Prosecutor Klavier Gavin accompanied myself and another man, Ushiromiya Battler, on our journey. I found his concern unwarranted, but the courtesy was not enough to garner punishment," she said dismissively. She'd honestly not thought much of Gavin's silly question beyond noting that he was still alive and not drowned after being tossed out into the torrential rain. However, her father's second question caught her attention and Franziska paused. Relation to a defense attorney? Gavin was related to a defense attorney? "I was unaware he had relaitons to that side of the law. How unfortunate. He was rather intelligent otherwise."

At first, von Karma ignored his daughter's affirmation that certain oddities of which he had merely heard had indeed occurred. So, she had met Mr. Gavin. Or rather, Prosecutor Klavier Gavin; von Karma had known neither the young man's first name nor occupation, but his daughter had conveniently supplied both to him.

"There is -- or possibly was, since I haven't seen him since last week -- another here, by the name of Kristoph Gavin. The spitting image of the younger Mr. Gavin, save for his glasses. They do, however, share the same facial features, hairstyle, and penchant for flippancy." The elder prosecutor scoffed, his arms folded. To his dismay, the scoff sounded more like a snort of congestion. Curse Martin Landel... and curse these insolent Gavins! "The senior Gavin foolishly admitted to being a defense attorney. Ergo, I wouldn't trust anything Mr. Klavier Gavin says or does, no matter how intelligent he seems to be."

Now to address the bizarre occurrences from last night that he had missed. "And what's this about these strange doors?" He cocked an eyebrow at Franziska. "Was this anything similar to what we experienced a week ago on our way to the File Room?"

Edited 2010-07-05 01:32 (UTC)

Kristoph and Klavier Gavin - so they were twins who had chosen opposite sides of the law, hm? At least Klavier was the smarter of the two and had chosen the right side. Strange that the younger would be wiser than the elder, but then Franziska had also chosen law while her sister had gone off to do layman's work and raise a family. Franziska couldn't say she agreed with her elder sister's choice of abandoning the von Karma legacy, but then she was currently the only one with an heir - even if the girl lacked the von Karma name.

Franziska nodded and noted her father's concerns along with his adept as always assessment of the Gavin twins. A penchant for flippancy was something Franziska had encountered with the younger brother upon their first meeting; something Franziska had found highly unprofessional. "I understand, Papa. It is unfortunate that such a bright prosecutor would allow himself to maintain relations to a defense attorney, but that is the unfortunate trait of all those who do not share our perfection. A von Karma would never keep such low company."

Which was why she could not now or ever admit to herself that Phoenix Wright was a decent man. It would be a heresy against her name and her father's legacy.

"The doors," Franziska continued, leaving the former subject behind. "Were unlike the phenomenon we experienced in the File Room. First - any door we entered caused a sensation akin to motion sickness or vertigo. Second - the doors opened to areas they should not have. Examples include the Sun Room doors leading to one of the Activity Rooms, the Activity Room door leading to the Beauty Salon in Doyleton, and those doors leading to the second floor kitchen. While it seems illogical, the evidence irrefutably points to instantaneous transportation, otherwise known as teleportation. The other witnesses and I attempted to find a reason for the foolishness we encountered, but none was uncovered before the night ended."

With them being dumped outside in the freezing rain. Franziska's mood soured at that recollection and she set her jaw slightly, looking to her father. "Did you not experience anything of the sort?"

"Indeed," the elder prosecutor nodded, studying his daughter's expression for signs of any belief that contradicted her statement. "For a von Karma to maintain an association with one who blithely allows the guilty to walk free... is to permanently taint his -- or her -- own blood. I am glad to see that you understand this well, Franziska." His eyes were now like steel, cold and unyielding.

Satisfied -- and relieved -- to find that she still held firm to the von Karma creed, the older von Karma now turned his attention to the matter regarding the previous night, taking notes as Franziska related the events. Though this... anomaly Franziska described was different from what he had experienced on other nights, it still sounded very similar to them, particularly the "parlor trick" illusion in the Entry Room, followed by blood seeping from the walls. Disturbing. Only two weeks ago, he never would have believed any of these occurrences... yet now, here he was, listening to this poppycock that he should have by all rights discounted as delusional nonsense instead of taking it seriously. Of course, it helped that the source of this information was as reliable as he could expect in a place like this.

After Franziska had finished speaking, he set down his pen and closed his eyes. "Hmph. Yet more tomfoolery from the Head Lunatic himself. He wants to delude us into blindly believing in this teleportation rubbish. I must give him credit for its authentic appearance as you have described it." He now tugged at the fabric of his left sleeve, back and forth. "Still, just like the optical illusion in the Entry Room, there must be a logical explanation for this phenomenon. We just have to find a way to break through this facade of smoke and mirrors. It may take more than one night to solve Martin Landel's complex riddle."

von Karma opened his eyes again, determination emitting from them as he met his daughter's gaze. "No, I had not. Last night for me was quite uneventful, though not entirely unproductive." He left it at that; Franziska needed not know that his whole night was spent in bed, reviewing his notes.

Edited 2010-07-07 06:31 (UTC)

His comments always came out more like orders and Franziska felt herself sitting up a little straighter, listening a little more closely, and feeling just a tiny bit smaller while he spoke. It was unfair how she always felt like that child crying out for attention whenever he was around. She was a prosecutor in her own right! She had achieved so much on her own: become the youngest prosecutor in Germany, held a perfect record in her home country, went after international smuggling rings and helped solve impossible cases! But then....none of that mattered in the face of his record and his accomplishments. She would always be the little girl walking in Manfred von Karma and Miles Edgeworth's shadows. God damn them all.

"I understand, Papa." And despite her desire to overcome and her hatred of her position, she couldn't bear to leave it. She acquiesced where she should have fought. She maintained the status quo.

"And yes, Papa, it will indeed. Last night, the three of us attempted to find a pattern, but we were interrupted before anything could be established. If you deem this matter worthy of further investigation, then perhaps we should begin interviewing witnesses from last night and gather a database of experiences from which to pull the truth." Hopefully from people who weren't going to blather on about unimportant things and stick strictly to the facts.

Which reminded her.

"I believe Klavier Gavin removed something from the scene of one of these purported teleportations. I will interrogate him on the subject later."

Franziska paused and closed her eyes. She couldn't beat around the bush any longer. "And speaking of interrogations, I'm afraid the investigation regarding your case has come to its conclusion. Your presence is requested tonight for the preliminary hearing. A trial will be set at a later date. You are available, aren't you?"

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Day 50: Cafeteria (Brunch)

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