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]

Comments

[kindalikedit]

Getting nabbed with the fiance in tow had to be a tough break.

Although that kinda fell by the wayside when Marley dropped the undead hunter in his lap. Dean didn't stop eating or pause to stare, his gaze just flickering back to the woman for a second longer than normal as he wondered if he needed to revise that first impression. Well, okay, no, she still had a nice rack on her. That hadn't changed. But now he was wondering if she was really a governor or if that was some kind of title, like Ash's Dr. Badass - and he wasn't gonna get caught up thinking about the Roadhouse burning to the ground, not when he still had a job to do. Dean pretended to be busy scooping in the rest of the egg into the last taco.

Sure, there was weird shit here, but he was still glossing over the bit about the Daleks until he jumped the Doctor and shook some answers outta the guy.

There was monsters and then there was pure crazy.

"Well, seen a few ghosts and something in the kennels," Dean said, glancing at her, probing. If Sam and him could get their act together, the kennels at least could be torched. He broke out into an easygoing grin, "Gotta say, you're not what I expected a Ghostbuster to look like."

The problem with being in a fake mental institute was he didn't know for sure who was really from another "world" like the Doctor or Peter, giving him a cover story or were really not firing on all four cylinders. Ruby, fine. Sam had vouched for her and he trusted Sam's judgment, even if the kid was holding out on him about something. He'd just met Elaine. They weren't exactly close to knowing exactly what was haunting this place or roaming the halls, much less being able to compile a list to pass around.

[selfrescuer.livejournal.com]

The brief glance didn't go unnoticed by Elaine, and by itself was enough to tell her at least a little bit more about the man. Either Dean was from a place not so afflicted with ghosts and zombies and now thought she was a bit crazy, or he too was all too familiar with the undead (either here or at home) and had made a note to reappraise her. Judging from the lack of bugged-out eyes and/or eyebrow raising, she was betting the latter. He was going to be a lot more helpful to her if that was the case.

"Hmm, not a term I've heard before, but I like it," she answered to the bit about being a "Ghostbuster." What a great title that would make, she thought. Ghostbusters. Someone had better get on the trademark for that. "In any case, ghosts I've handled. Only problem is I'm betting this place doesn't stock any voodoo antiroot. Without that, dealing with ghosts is much more troublesome." Maybe that was why the Institute didn't offer root beer; it might be bad for the health of more than just the living residents. 

"What did you see in the kennels, then?" she asked, leaving the ghosts for later. "And where is that exactly?"

[kindalikedit]

She hadn't seen Ghostbusters apparently. That had to be a crime in some states.

Dean reached up and scratched his cheek. "Don't know exactly: we got beamed into it last night, so I'll have to see if it's possible to hoof it on foot." Providing he didn't run into the same deal with the teleports. "Looked like a bunch of mutated animals or something. Big claws, real nasty fangs, that sorta thing. Wouldn't want to run into 'em if they got loose."

If he had it his way, they wouldn't ever get loose. They'd just be nice and crispy and not a threat to any of the patients. As jobs went, it was fairly cozy. Point and shoot, and the target couldn't exactly charge you or do much hiding if you torched the cages. Sam might think that it was the least of their problems, all things considered, and Dean might agree, but still. If it wouldn't take them that long to deal with them, then they might as well torch 'em on their way to whatever else Sam had in mind.

[selfrescuer.livejournal.com]

It was understandable that Dean hadn't gotten any clues about where the kennel might have been. If it didn't have any windows or visible signage inside, there would be no way of telling. Either way, though, she definitely had to agree that something with that many potentially jugular-severing parts wouldn't do well to be let loose in the Institute. If they were anything like the pesky man-eating snakes of Plunder Island, she was all for taking that place down in a blaze.

"I'll keep that in mind as a place to find and mark for decidedly unpleasant things," she answered, tucking into a bit more of her brunch. "I wish I had more information to give you in return. Unfortunately, the most interesting place we wound up was that hole in the ground. A quarry, from the looks of it." She half-expected that maybe Dean would already know about a quarry, and if that was the case, then she really didn't have anything to offer at the moment. "I'll be sure to pass along anything useful I come across in the near future, though," she assured the man.