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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[ryuuzaki]

L sighed, then took a small piece of pineapple off of his fork and into his mouth. Apparently, Jones had not seen his query on the bulletin board, or if he had, he had not taken note of the handwriting and put two and two together.

"I mean that Mr. Lunge and I had an unplanned meeting with an ill-tempered sphinx last night." He was good at talking with food in his mouth, he knew; his voice was muffled, his diction just awkward enough that the change was obvious, but those were the only detectable factors. Still, he swallowed the bite of fruit before he continued. "It offers a challenge, then asks a riddle -- nothing too strange or difficult. Judging by its reactions, my guess is that it sees a number of patients, and those patients it sees rarely lose the game."

Everyone who had responded to his request for information about the Sphinx had warned him away from the basement. In some circumstances, he might have assumed that the unilateral agreement on the topic masked someone's attempt to hide something, or to keep something they had found in the basement for themselves alone. It seemed like an unlikely scenario in this instance, though: for one thing, in spite of the fact that certain patients had made a habit of deflating hyperbole posted to the bulletin board, no one had stepped up to discount the warnings.

"If," L echoed, toneless and noncommittal.

He wondered how long Jones had been down in the lower level the previous night -- not long enough to find out whether or not there was another legendary beast guarding the ballroom even when he had heard it was a possibility. He stifled an impulse to snort. Then again, Jones had probably only had a whip for protection, and Dent and perhaps a third person for back-up.

How well had Dent been armed? -- Not well enough, he thought. It never seemed possible to be armed well enough: they were always kept at a disadvantage of some kind or another.

"Did you understand where you were when you were there? I'm sorry to say that until yesterday, I hadn't heard much about the basement. The Sphinx's room was -- disorienting. It isn't much like the other rooms here; it doesn't sound like the ballroom is, either." He paused, poking at a bite of scrambled egg with the tines of his fork.

"More to the point, Dr. Jones, why are you planning to make the trip tonight? Have you heard something about it -- something that makes it worthwhile? What is the purpose, apart from exploration? I am interested in an analysis of the potential risks versus the potential benefits."

[its-the-mileage.livejournal.com]

"'An ill-tempered sphinx'?" Indy repeated, looking sharply at Ryuuzaki. "Like the Egyptian sphinx, feline with a human head? How large? Did it actually speak to you? What language? What was the riddle?" His first instinct was incredulity, but of course he'd already seen a minotaur and heard about a two-headed monster, not to mention the Zombis and all of Landel's other mythobiology projects; a sphinx didn't strain the imagination as far as it would've two weeks ago.

The sphinx that was famous for asking the riddle was supposed to have been at Thebes, though, Indy recalled. Evidently Landel really loved his Greeks. Indy wondered what else the man had in store for them along those lines. Gorgons? A hydra? The Erymanthian Boar, for God's sake?

Ryuuzaki's deliberately noncommittal response didn't come as much of a surprise, and Indy's answer to his question (once he finished chewing) was equally neutral. "Yes, I understood. We would've gone on then if we'd been able to pass through any of the doors without being taken somewhere else." The next question, though, was one he'd've preferred not to answer, even though he knew he would have asked it first thing if he'd been sitting in Ryuuzaki's chair. The truth was he had no idea whether anything was even down there--or assuming it was, whether it would be worthwhile or just another red herring. What he had, mostly, was hearsay and curiosity. And a desire to do something other than stumbling around in the dark night after night waiting to get killed.

"Even if the two-headed monster isn't there anymore, its presence suggests that it was put there to stand guard. I'm sure you've heard the rumors too--that basement is dangerous; not many people make it through and they spend a lot of time trying to warn others off. There's something down there, something big." Indy was speaking with conviction now--pitching the project. He'd mounted expeditions on less evidence than this, and more often than not he'd been right. "I don't know what it is. But I do know the rest of the building's been gone over by dozens, hundreds of patients. They can't all be incompetent. I can spend my time better by following leads I'm better suited than most to pursue. And the fact that that's uncharted territory means I've still got a chance of finding something."

It was a weak justification, to be sure, but under the circumstances it was the best he could do.