Day 50: Cafeteria (Brunch)

[selfrescuer.livejournal.com]

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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[falseblack]

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."

[windstwilight.livejournal.com]

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?"

[falseblack]

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."

[windstwilight.livejournal.com]

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."

[falseblack]

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."