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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[byname-bynature.livejournal.com]

Artemis blinked, a slightly troubled expression crossing his face. That was it: Mihai was one of Badou's associates from his world, the one that thought Badou should stop smoking. It had been a rather serious confrontation, as Artemis remembered it, so the thought that he couldn't put a few details together...

He'd have to be very, very careful around mealtimes.

"Ah yes, that's right," Artemis smiled, wiping his distressed look away. "So much happens in a few days--and the past few have not been especially kind to me, as you've probably already noted," he said, briefly indicating his sling with his fork. "I apologize for not recognizing your name sooner."

He picked at his food, making as though he had every intent of eating, though he was slightly lost in his own thoughts. He wasn't going to bring up the argument concerning Badou and his nasty habit, mostly because he figured both he and Mihai were rather deeply entrenched in their positions. He could see the benefits of both sides, though now he couldn't see denying Badou anything. Not when Badou was the one of two people holding him together. Did he even have the energy to argue while he was stuck with a dozen screaming voices and hundreds of muttering ones?

"I'm undergoing puberty at the moment, though frankly I believe that even if it passed me by tomorrow, I would still feel uncomfortable showering in front of strangers. I'm not used to such circumstances, and I don't intend to assimilate to anything Landel believes I should assimilate to." Sean included. "Even after three weeks, I still have my dignity if nothing else," he said, examining a flaw in his plastic fork. "Even if I'm at the most awkward and trying stage of my life--both developmentally and circumstantially."

He looked back up at Mihai. "Any particular reason you seem to lose your way so drastically?"

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

"Don't worry about it." In a way, it was nice to not have his name automatically linked with his face, or rather, his reputation. Legendary assassin wasn't a title that just went away even after retirement, and while Mihai had used that to his advantage more than once, it'd also caused a fair amount of trouble. That on top of the stigma, of course. So introducing himself and not getting a look of recognition and fear ranked as something of a luxury for him.

Besides, this boy was young. Teenagers usually worried about other things than remembering the names of every old man that wanted them off their lawn, or something like that.

Like preserving his dignity by showering in a towel. Mihai had to wonder how much such a thing actually counted; men who did that in his world, at least, might as well have tatooed bulls-eyes on their backs for all the good it would do them. "Right."

On to safer topics. Or at least ones less awkward for Mihai than the showering habits of underaged males. "No, no reason. Unless you count a tendency to find trouble no matter where I go." Did that make sense in some weird way? The universe purposely throwing him off track, only to lead him into some unfortunate situation at the end. His mental compass apparently only pointed to the closest (figuratively speaking) pain in the ass, unlike everyone else who had been blessed with a mere northward inclination.