Day 50: Patient Library (3rd Shift)

[vstheworld]

Given a choice, as should have been implied by the whole "Free Choice Day" thing, Scott would have gone straight for the Game Room. Maybe it didn't have the greatest selection of games, but he was raring for another epic Tetris match with Indy or anyone else who cared to challenge him. Unfortunately for him, however, his nurse was already onto his line of thinking.

"Now Bryan, I know how much you love your games, but don't you think some more time away from them would be good for you?" the woman asked him in a soothing tone, gently taking his shoulder when he turned toward the Game Room.

"Uh, why would I think that?" he asked, blinking at her in honest confusion.

"Well, I know your family was worried about more than just your condition before you came here. They're hoping you can start to wean yourself down to a more healthy level of enjoyment with your games, too," the nurse explained with continuing gentleness.

"Yeah. And?" Scott raised an eyebrow. "It's Free Choice Day, isn't it? Don't I get to choose and stuff?"

"Of course, Bryan. But I'm still here to make suggestions, and I think you'd do well with a different activity today." The woman smiled at him, genuine care and concern in her expression. "You can always come here later in the week. It'll probably be more rewarding if you wait, too."

Scott was silent, considering the advice. He raised an index finger. "Well, I suppose... Uh, yeah no. Please to be going to the Game Room now, thanks."

The nurse frowned.

Five minutes of irritatingly gentle coaxing later, and Scott found himself in the patient library. "Stupid guilt tripping never even talked to my real mom and dad I bet I could be playing Tetris right now they don't even have any cool books in here..." he grumbled to himself under his breath as he lazily perused the shelves. He picked a book completely at random, The Oxford Book of English Verse. He was half-hoping that maybe pulling the book out would trigger something more exciting, like a secret item appearing, a bonus stage unlocking, or a new shortcut tunnel opening. But no, Landel's reality was boring as ever. "Maybe there'll be an awesome poem or something in here, at least," he told himself as he headed over to an empty seat with a short sigh.

[Unknowingly waiting for Sam]

Comments

[lawful_perfect]

Such nonsense, von Karma shook his head and scoffed as he passed through the darkened makeshift theater that rendered the Sun Room a misnomer. Movies were often such a waste of time, even the classics that had been up for vote prior to this shift. Of course, the foolish patient base had to settle on that ridiculous fantasy about a monstrous primate kidnapping a human female and scaling the Empire State Building.

Oh, why couldn't his blasted nurse shut her pie hole for two seconds?! What part of "Take me to the Library. Now" could be interpreted as "Oh, but you should really try fingerpainting in the Arts and Crafts Room"?! He didn't know which sounded more unpleasant, her yapping about all these "fun" activities available to him, or that wretched cacophony emanating from the Music Room as he headed towards the Library. Between all that noise and the summons von Karma's own daughter had just served him, he had to resist the strong urge to knead his now throbbing temple.

He was thankful when the nurse finally led him into the relative silence of the Patient Library. Though there was one other person already in here, he seemed to be minding his own business, at least. But just before the older man could start perusing the shelves for acceptable reading material, the nurse had to squawk at him once more. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Fuchs! You're going to have visitors in a little while, so be on your best behavior now!"

Hn. Why not? It made perfect sense for the damned staff to ensure that his miserable day was as complete as could be.

[And it's about to get even "better" for him when his "old buddy" comes by~]

[gargantuanlaugh.livejournal.com]

Brunch had been a quiet affair for the chief. He had been quite pleased with the spread, and happy to sit by his lonesome to enjoy his feast. There was a slightly disturbing scene between his new acquaintance Asuka and some other boy he didn't recognize, but Gant put it down as teenage angst. The girl may be intelligent or have a Ph.D for all he knew, but no kid could fight raging hormones and the mood swings that came with it. Gant was very glad he was over that point in his life.

Gant sure wasn't interested in watching any movies today. How could he get any socializing done sitting in the dark, trying to be heard over the speakers? He asked for somewhere quieter to spend his time. He didn't mean the library of all places, but Nurse Mildred was insistent. "You'll stay out of trouble here, Mister Glover. Just keep quiet and don't bother anyone with your ridiculous laughing!"

"Now, Millie, I take offense to that," he said with a smile, but he knew better than to fight her. After all, while a library's rule of silence was a bit unfair, the minds drawn by such a place were worth noting. Inside, more patients were socializing than Gant had expected, but only one of them caught his eye. Someone who looked very familiar.

Approaching quieter than anyone would expect possible from him, Gant casually looked the man up and down, amazed. This place was good. Gant knew Lana had been pulled in by this impostor, thinking it was the real Manfred von Karma, but she also seemed to be living in the past from how she talked. Even though he looked the same, and perhaps he even acted the same, there was no changing the facts; Manfred von Karma was dead. But if they wanted him to play along with their little ruse, then Gant was up for it. It might be fun.

Gant moved quickly, giving his "old buddy" a hearty slap on the back. "Manny! What a pleasure meeting you here! Jolly!" He grinned. Oh, memories.

[lawful_perfect]

Hmph. What a pitiful selection of literature here, just as it had been the last time von Karma had been in here. He would make certain to air this grievance to the administration, too. For now, he would settle on Dante's Divine Comedy. For this hellhole, the cantica Inferno seemed especially fitting.

As he placed his hand over the tattered volume, he felt an odd yet disquieting and familiar presence in the room, and the words "Abandon all hope..." suddenly flashed through his mind. Most likely, it was that blasted nurse scrutinizing him as she always did. He shrugged it off and shook his head, concentrating instead on removing the book from the shelf.

Just as it was almost completely in hand... Thwack! His body suddenly jerked, nearly causing him to drop the book. It was all he could do to restrain himself from cursing aloud. Then... the same booming voice he had thought he had heard while passing through the Sun Room just before brunch... it was now addressing him... or rather, by the name that he least desired to be called.

...No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be him of all people. This was little more than a prank at his expense. It had to be.

Book in hand -- and held up in a grip that suggested an impending attack -- von Karma spun around to face the bearded impostor who had visited him last week. "'Dr. Kant.' So very thoughtful of you to drop by again," he growled. "That drab outfit is a clever touch. I'd almost have mistaken you for one of the regular patients. You would belong here, after all. Tell me," he narrowed his eyes at the grinning buffoon, "just how exactly did you manage to hoodwink the nurse into bringing you past the lobby. Hmm?"

[gargantuanlaugh.livejournal.com]

Ah, yes, they trained their actors well. This man had ol' von Karma's expressions down to a T. That face was one Gant had grown to known well over the years. But was it possible to replicate a voice that closely? He had to hand it to them, he was almost convinced it was the real deal. Except there was one major flaw in their plot.

"I belong, do I? I'm not the one forgetting names here," he chuckled, eying the book gripped in the fake Manfred's hand. Hmm, best not to push too much. This man was obviously a little unstable.

"As for my outfit, this certainly wouldn't be my first choice of coloring. I assure you, my being here had no hoodwinking involved." Gant fixed his own stare on the other man, hiding his amusement. "Nurse Millie was quite insistent I come to the library today. I was against the choice at first, but now I'm glad I came. Always a nice surprise running into old friends."

He blinked a few times, watching impostor Manny over the clear lenses. "Lana informed me of your presence here last night. Gotta admit, I didn't really believe her." Still didn't, but he wasn't going to let this impostor know that just yet.

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

The extreme laid-back feeling that was plaguing Matt at the moment still didn't seem to do anything for the creak now in his neck - thanks to the gargantuan orderly that had tackled him much like a bank robber trying to escape with all the money in the vault. Not that he wasn't a criminal in his own right, on occasion, but that was an entirely different story; Matt was out for Matt, plain and simple. These morons didn't know it, though, which was why their reaction to his escape was so ridiculous. He honestly just wanted to be left alone - which was a very good reason for him to let the nurse lead him to the library. It was quiet and still fairly empty, and Matt was more than confident that he could manage to find a nice tall stack of books to hide behind until they finally managed to usher him back to his room. He was somewhat at a loss, though, as to what he would do when night fell; hopefully the sedation would wear off by then, but he had no way of knowing just how strong the drugs they'd used on him were - and Matt, who was quite happy with his usual level of awareness, more than likely had the drug tolerance of an infant.

Quite abruptly, it dawned on Matt that he still needed to get those drugs from Mello. As he was at the moment, he found himself without the usual control over his facial expressions, and grimaced at the mere thought of speaking face to face with the blond again. I could probably just get the damn things from him and then walk away? Fat chance of that happening, but a guy could hope.

As predicted, Matt quickly located a good-sized stack of books toward the back, for which he immediately headed. The nurse hovered close to the door, watching him closely as promised. As he started to absentmindedly dig through the volumes in the stack, he shook his head in mild disappointment. "Should'a hit 'er when I had the chance," he mumbled despondently.

[oneman-onekill.livejournal.com]

[he's already met Mello; mind if he meets the other half of the 'team'?]

Talking to Morgan when he was lucid was predictably more enjoyable than talking to the man while he was drugged, but Niikura was still mulling over their conversation as he entered the library. He was checking it for cracks - instances where he'd given too much of himself. Neither of them had done anything more than exchange pleasantries and blank checks with each other, really, but he wanted to be sure. Things didn't happen his way when he faded to the background.

As he walked down a shelf looking at the titles there just for the effect, Niikura overheard some guy mumbling about the nurses. He pulled up short, slapped the other man on the shoulder, and leaned down to say in a conspiratorial whisper, "Hittin' ladies ain't the way to go, y'know." He straightened up, gave the nurse a quick wave, and then bent back down again.

"But I know how ya feel."

[gamingsostfu.livejournal.com]

Seriously. Who had he killed in another life to deserve this? Matt was just minding his own business, hidden behind some damn books, and someone walked up and touched him. No, not just touched- smacked him, and whispered in his ear. The contact made him jolt, since he wasn't prepared for it; besides, this was not the time to be touching Matt. Alarmed, he tried not to run smack into the book shelf as he moved away as quickly as he could - which wasn't nearly as quickly as he would have liked, but he just needed to keep people from getting behind him again.

He settled when he saw that it was just another guy- another patient. Another person stuck in a madhouse they probably didn't belong in. Slowly, the meaning behind his words filtered into his head. Glancing at the nurses by the door, Matt stepped back and focused on the books on the shelf, seemingly disinterested in the conversation.

"Th-then what d'you suggest I try next time?"

[chainsaw-royal.livejournal.com]

Hime politely requested access to the library and her nurse was all too happy to aid in her literary explorations than sitting her down front of the silver screen or having her fight over the gameboys in the game room. Really, the books kept here held little interest to the Royal but she saw no reason to correct the woman's misconception.

After scanning the front of the room, Hime casually made her way to the back, glancing down each row before walking down the back row where she had met the noble - of what rank, she knew not, and perhaps it was just simple composure - before. He wasn't here yet, but the princess didn't mind waiting. For now, she browsed the titles again.

Still nothing of interest.

[For Aidou]

[idolism]

What Anise had said about relaxing seemed humorous to him now that the third shift had begun. Oh, it was easy to say such things, but the reality was that everything, absolutely everything, was pushing him to be as skillful and vigilant as he possibly could, which left no room for the other sides of himself.

He couldn’t be all of himself because he was too busy being someone who could beat this rat maze. Was that something that needed ‘fixing’?

Having agreed to a meeting with the blonde female already, he wasted no time in informing his nurse of his choice in destination. The movie showing was new to the day time activities--and might also have been the perfect place to rest, when the sun roof would be covered--but it was not as important as keeping to his first concerns.

She was not near the door or in the open area of the room, so Aidou stepped into the shelves. It was fitting that he found her where she had originally found him the first time; in the back, it was easier to detect eavesdroppers.

"You look well," he greeted her, coming up to her side.

[chainsaw-royal.livejournal.com]

Hime looked away from the shelves when she saw another come into the back - just the man she was waiting for, as it turned out.

"Hello again, Aidou," she greeted him coolly. "You're looking as well also." Physically, at least. The Royal didn't really know him well enough to tell if that quiet demeanor was normal or indicative of something. Not that it was her problem. Considering they'd only talked once, she was curious as to why he'd called her out.

"Is there a particular reason for this meeting?" the princess asked. Then a small hint of a smile graced her lips, a change from their last meeting now that she was no longer as confused and cautious as her first day. "Or did you just miss my company?"

[boyking]

As appealing as it sounded, watching a giant gorilla for two hours, Sam decided to pass. Seriously, he'd seen that damn movie more times than he could count—with Dean's commentary running in the background, no less. Hazard of insomnia and keeping weird hours. He could probably recite several infomercials by heart at this point.

That left...the library, the game room, the courtyard—library would do. It would be quiet and maybe he could find someone worth looking into. He hadn't spoken to very many people at the institute. Too wrapped up in that crap with Dean. Plus, a good chunk of the people he had met, Christ, he hadn't seen a couple of them in at least a week, had he? And there wasn't a lot he could do about it except talk to more people. Witnesses were notoriously unreliable, but if you pieced enough of them together, eventually something emerged. Or that was the theory.

Besides, according to his nurse, a visitor wasn't on his schedule. Whoever Michael was, he wasn't coming back. Not this time, anyway. Which was fine on one hand; Sam wasn't gonna deny that the guy unsettled him. By a large amount. But he was still better than nothing. A lead, however small. Maybe there'd be more in the files?

Anyway, whatever. He could talk about it with Dean tonight. The snatches of conversation over breakfast or lunch, that really wasn't gonna cut it. They kept getting interrupted or herded off, and it didn't help that half of the conversations always careened into that topic. The one they were always talking about, even when they weren't.

The library was pretty empty when he stepped inside. No surprise, of course; everyone was kinda scattered all over today. It meant it didn't take long before he spotted the guy looking less than satisfied by the volume before him. Dissatisfied folks tended to be a hit or miss. Sometimes they were really up to talking to you and sometimes they were really very much not, but, well. Might as well give it a shot. At the very least, the patients here were more willing to hold a conversation than your average stranger.

Sam plucked a book from the shelf to make sure he had something in hands since, a Stephen King title he probably shouldn't have been fond of given his own horror story of a life but somehow was. He sat down near the other patient, close enough to hold a low-key chat if he wanted, but not so close as to intrude.

"Not a poetry fan?" he said mildly.

[vstheworld]

The book seemed arranged in chronological order, leading Scott to flip to the end sections in the hopes of avoiding potentially fatal collisions with any "thee"s and "thou"s. For the most part, the tactic worked; a lot of what he saw wasn't bad. It couldn't be, he supposed, since it was all supposed to be classic. Nothing really grabbed his attention with a strong hold, though, and a lot of the language still went over his head. That was, until his eyes skimmed over one title in particular: "The Flowers." A swash of brightly-coloured hair flashed by in his mind at that, possibly on rollerblades. Scott stopped on the page, considering it. The poem looked short, at least, he thought; also, there were worse reasons to read something than a passing reminder of the girlfriend he missed with every fibre of his being.

When Love arose in heart and deed
To wake the world to greater joy,
'What can she give me now?' said Greed,
Who thought to win some costly toy.

He rose, he ran, he stoop'd, he clutch'd;
And soon the Flowers, that Love let fall,
In Greed's hot grasp were fray'd and smutch'd,
And Greed said, 'Flowers! Can this be all?'

The poem went on from there, but before he could continue reading, Scott was interrupted by a voice from a couple of seats over. He looked up, caught mildly off-guard. He hadn't exactly been engrossed, but he hadn't been expecting to hear a stranger talk to him, either. Definitely not someone so tall, either, he thought with a slight ulp. "Uh, yeah, not exactly my big thing," he answered, flipping pages again and pretending to look for a different poem out of some primal urge to look busy-and-totally-not-lazy-or-dumb in front of people he didn't know. "Kinda more of a comics guy if I'm gonna go for stuff on dead trees. X-Men, Spider-man - you know, the great masterworks of the modern age," he added with a bit of a knowing grin, biting back the urge to say that that he was friends with Wolverine and Spider-man and this random guy wasn't, nah-nahnah-nah-nah.

He stopped on a random page as he leaned over a bit to get a look at what the other guy was reading. Stephen King, huh? "Hey, you've got some balls reading that kind of stuff here. My invisible hat is off to you, sir" he commented, closing his book for the moment with a thumb keeping place over one of the poems on the page, "Lucifer in Starlight."

[boyking]

Okay, friendly and talkative. They were off to a good start. And a comic book fan, apparently, which Sam could also work with. Unconventional childhood or not, some things remained the same for all kids across the board.

He smiled. "I used to collect those. But they sort of, you know. Got lost along the way. We moved a lot."

Actually, it was more like there was no freaking room to carry all that much when you lived out of a goddamn car, and though they used to stay in one place for longer than a couple of weeks at a time back then—sometimes they made it several months even—eventually, they always packed up. He'd learned pretty early to ditch whatever wasn't needed. Which usually translated to everything but the guns.

When he'd moved in with Jess, he'd tried filling up the apartment for her sake; picture frames and books or whatever, but most of the clutter was never his. She'd commented on that once.

"Anyway, I just figured I could use this as a survival guide," he went on. He flipped the novel over in his hands. The Stand. The only title he'd refused to touch was It. For obvious reasons. He'd owned it once, for a period of about ten seconds, when Dean had given it to him as a birthday gift.

But that was awhile ago, back when they'd had time to pull crap like that, when it wasn't, Happy birthday, Sammy, I sold my soul for you! And hell, when was the last time he'd read something that wasn't the obit section of the newspaper or an ancient copy of demon folklore?

He really needed to stop asking himself questions he couldn't answer.

"I'm Sam, by the way."

[heraldric.livejournal.com]

Leon wasn't even sure why he'd requested coming to the library. From the looks of things, nothing had changed since the last time he'd been in the room, meaning there weren't any new books aside from the usual fiction and worthless handful of nonfiction. Even if the Head Doctor bothered to look at his suggestion in the box, it was incredibly doubtful that any changes had already been made.

Still, this was his comfort zone. After being so thoroughly confused over the events of the past night, it would be good to just sit back and read something quietly, even if he had very little interest in the material. What were those books Claude had been interested in out of the ones he'd grabbed before? Would copies of them still be here?

The young mage bent down and grabbed himself a copy of The Time Machine before taking a seat in one of the provided chairs.

[free]

[windstwilight.livejournal.com]

The library wasn't the girl's first choice of places, but having been told she had been running around too much with her injury, she was given a choice of indoor activities. Lame. After complaining, the nurse conceded that she could go outside next shift. So, for now, Senna settled for the library, one of the few places she hadn't been to much.

What would be, would be. Senna wandered the room idly, sling still bound tightly across her chest. A few titles jumped out at her, but nothing really to keep her attention. In the end, she snagged a fairy tale book--The Crimson Fairy Book, to be exact--and went to find a place to settle in to page through it. Close-by, there was a boy already looking through another book. Half wondering if it was rude to interrupt, she sat beside him, offering a smile. "Hey."

[heraldric.livejournal.com]

Startled by the unfamiliar female voice, Leon looked up from his book to stare at her in surprise. An attractive girl making small talk with him when there were other men around? Did she find him interesting? Perhaps it was his choice of reading material, slightly advanced for someone else his age.

...Or he was in the way. He wasn't in the way, was he?

"Hello." He smiled back. Company would be nice either way, as he'd only been partly interested in the book. (Not that it was a bad book, quite the opposite.) "How are you?" The mage barely kept himself from asking more unnecessary questions, such as So, you like reading too? Now if only he could stay cool and collected for the rest of the conversation.

[girlsandgadgets]

The conversation with Raphael had been informative, even if it was a bit brief. The longer he remained captive, the more irritated Edgar became with the nurses- he was sure their tight schedules purposefully cut short all conversations, allowing for only a taste of independence before snatching it away by ushering the patients from room to room; the fact that his allies seemed to be disappearing didn't help matters. Landel certainly knew how to push the right buttons.

No matter- there was still work to be done. Deciding to pass on the activity occurring in the Sun Room, Edgar instead headed for the Library, looking for someplace quiet, someplace isolated, someplace away from the prying eyes of the nursemaids. As lovely as they were, he wasn't interested in having them see the pages within his journal. He waited for his escort to depart before perusing the aisles, finding the least occupied one and having a seat on the floor. It wasn't the most dignified position, but it would do.

Edgar removed the journal from his pocket, leaning against the wall and giving his injured shoulder a few tentative rotations. A hiss escaped him, his neck tensed as he cursed under his breath- the wound was going to set him back in his project. He flipped his journal open, turning a few pages in to the detailed schematic of his planned Air Cannon. He only needed a few more parts to complete it, but what good would it be if he couldn't wield it? He had no way of knowing exactly how long it would take for the wound to heal- any more than a day was too long, and it was bound to be far longer than that.

Back to the drawing board for now. Retrieving his pen, the machinist set to work on altering his plans. If he could shift some of the weight to his waist to compensate, his work wouldn't go to waste.

[L]

[ryuuzaki]

L had never had any intention of watching the movie; as such, he was almost indifferent to the fact that Casablanca, the film he had selected, had lost the vote, and that a ridiculous monster movie was about to run in the Sun Room. Still, he was bemused at the announcement. I can't imagine why they don't have their fill of improbable creatures at night. Perhaps next week they will --

He stopped himself on that thought. How many times had he reminded himself not to be lulled into habit, routine, the conviction that the Institute was his life now? It was so easy to slip into a belief that there would be a next week, a week after that, if he was lucky and clever enough to survive it.

He couldn't say with any certainty how real his experiences last night had been, but the Walther P99 was real enough -- unless it wasn't, or unless it had been planted, an idea which had a number of unpleasant implications. At some point, I will have to waste a bullet on a test. He sighed. It would be possible to make the test count, but at the same time, if the pistol failed in a situation where a bullet was useful, it would defeat the purpose of testing it at all. Apart from that, he tried to avoid those situations when he could.

At brunch, he had identified "Paul Quincy" -- Sangamon Taylor. Red hair and a goatee were distinctive in the Institute, and he recalled having seen Taylor before; a nurse had confirmed his suspicions. However, he had not yet had the opportunity to make an approach. While he wanted to pursue it as quickly as he could, he would prefer not to have to use a public means of arranging a meeting. It was a possible lead, not a matter of life or death. If he had to, he would slip a note to Taylor, but that worked better with existing acquaintances. His conversation with Jones and Keman, and the necessity of having a nurse to escort him, had made it impossible to follow Taylor after brunch.

Now, he moved among the shelves in the library. It wasn't the most interesting of locations, but it was quiet, and anything he did to his journal while he was there was unlikely to draw much attention. One area was especially secluded, but as he rounded the corner to make his way for it, he saw that someone else -- a good-looking blond man -- was already sitting on the floor, absorbed in his own journal. His height was difficult to judge, but the length of his legs suggested that he was tall. L sighed, a little puff of air, and slouched past.

He gave the pages of the other man's journal a sidelong glance without turning his head. What he saw from the corner of his eye looked like schematics -- what for? Why? The man, then, became an order of magnitude more interesting than he had been five seconds earlier.

L thought of a classic novel that he knew to be shelved in another aisle. "Have you seen a copy of War and Peace here?" His tone was innocent; he sounded perplexed about his supposed inability to find his new "favorite" book, which had merely been the first to come to mind.

[girlsandgadgets]

Just as he'd finished rearranging the straps in his design to accommodate for the shift in weight, Edgar found the aisle joined by another young man- another patient, as marked by his smiling shirt. He gave the man a quick nod before returning to the drawing, carefully swapping the length of pipe and the trigger to lighten the load on his injured shoulder.

The silence of the room was disturbed as the newcomer addressed him, looking utterly confused over finding a book. Edgar deftly turned the page to the following one (simple notes, sure not to catch the eyes of the nurses) and placed the pen into the binding in a single, casual movement. It wasn't that he trusted the other man- in honesty, Edgar was having trouble reading him. Something about his poor posture didn't help matters.

"I'm not familiar with the book," he admitted, setting his journal on the ground, the page of notes still topmost. "Though I think I know enough about libraries to help you track it down. My childhood didn't permit me much time for leisurely reading, unfortunately." Even if he'd had more time for books, he probably wouldn't have spent much time among them. He scanned the aisle- no armor to spring to life along these walls. "Do you know who wrote it, by any chance?"

[emotionl4arobot.livejournal.com]

So far the day had been pleasantly productive, with meeting up with the Doctor in the morning and then having brunch to collect his thoughts and reason out a few more theories about what might have happened last night. It might have been worthwhile to contact Sangamon for a discussion as well, but that could wait until tomorrow, or whenever else he'd had the chance to talk with whomever it was that wanted the help of a scientist. If the project was interesting and worth the time, then it would be a good reason to talk with the older patient again, not to mention find out more about his skills with chemistry and the like.

Peter was supposed to have some scientific knowledge as well, Brainiac 5 recalled, and he half-considered if he should have asked the other boy for assistance with the matter instead, but... he could remember that Peter seemed busy a lot of late, and while he knew it wasn't really fair or rational, he sort of... wanted Peter to feel a little left out as well.

Brainiac 5 rubbed the back of his neck as he took a seat to wait for Rebecca, aware that it was probably selfish to be having those thoughts. It wasn't Peter's fault he'd been dashing off all the time, after all. In fact it was really quite normal, and it hadn't bothered him before when the other boy had done it. So he couldn't think why it might matter now.

"I should just talk to him about it," he sighed, moving around to curl up in the chair. "Tell him that I wish we could spend more time together. It's not a big deal or anything. He won't be upset or annoyed. ...I think."

He frowned slightly. "...maybe I shouldn't say anything. I wouldn't want to threaten our friendship..."

[Grell? Maybe you should just stab him for being such a damn loser and get it over with.]

[deadlyjuliet.livejournal.com]

Now for the meeting he'd been looking forward to for oh so long. Grell reached back and pulled his hair up into a high ponytail at the back of his head as he walked into the patient library. He'd told his nurse he only wanted a quiet afternoon among the books and she'd believed him, letting him go on his own. There were other nurses here of course, but so long as he didn't make too much of a fuss, he was certain he could avoid any unnecessary confrontations with them.

Whether Brainy-bot would let that happen would be another matter.

As soon as Grell entered the room, he spotted his prey sitting in a chair across the way, looking particularly disturbed about something. Keeping as unobtrusive as possible, Grell moved across the room, listening carefully to what sort of things Brainy seemed to be saying to himself. Boy troubles? How cute. Grell smirked as he moved closer and then made a concerted effort to raise his voice an octave - not too hard for an actress.

"I've heard miscommunication can threaten a relationship far more than anything else," he called out as he drew closer. "Brainiac 5? I've been hoping to meet you."

[emotionl4arobot.livejournal.com]

The moment he realised he'd been overheard, Brainiac 5 felt his face heat rapidly. "I'm just worried about my friend," he said quickly, turning around in his chair to find the owner of the voice.

And the heat drained out of his face almost as quickly as it had arrived when he saw who was there.

He'd been expecting an older woman, most likely human from a time period similar to this. Not Grell, with his hair pulled up and acting as though they'd never spoken to each other at worst, were actually friends at best. His shock only lasted a moment, however, before his eyes narrowed and he folded his arms. This wasn't like when he'd been shaken and upset after Clark had died. He wasn't going to let the self-proclaimed death god get to him like that again.

"What do you want?" he asked flatly. Grell couldn't try anything during the day, not when there were nurses in the room as well, so he would be safe enough.

...at least that was the theory. He wasn't sure what would happen if Grell decided to risk that and stab him with a concealed weapon anyway. Yes, the man would most likely be punished, but it wouldn't exactly do Brainiac 5 much good.

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

There was something oddly comforting about discussing the functions and sources of magic with someone who was almost on the same page as she was, especially after a day of nothing but confusion. It felt like she'd finally found someone who spoke the same language she did.

When the shift change came, Rita spent a few minutes in the Sun Room, just to see what the deal with the 'movie' thing was about. It looked like they used a machine to project light of varying shades. Her best guess at a glance was that it rapidly changed which shades it projected in which places to produce a smooth, moving image. How such a thing could be built and how long it might take to program it was still a mystery. The actual happenings in the 'movie' held little interest to Rita, however, so she soon wandered into the library instead.

She had been here once before, but that hadn't allowed her much time to see what books may hold interesting information. Walking along the aisles, it didn't take long for Rita's eyes to settle on what appeared to be a small section dedicated to 'occult' texts. Skimming the book titles, they appeared to cover voodoo, astrology, witchcraft... Was this the magic of Earth that Raine was trying to analyze?

Without bothering to search for a seat, Rita picked up one of the books - one discussing 'witchcraft' - and began perusing it there as she stood.

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

Howl was not inclined to watch the film. It wasn't any of the options he would have chosen, should he have taken the time to vote. He had been in such a poor mood when he had seen the request for open suggestions that he had only been able to motivate himself to leave an unpleasant note. It had likely completely undermined any argument that he was a sane man. It didn't matter anymore, though. To be released was to forget who and what he was. It was to admit that he was a normal, plain and forgettable man who suffered from severe delusions about his abilities and importance. It would be easier, of course, but he had grown attached to the life he had built, even if it were false. That was the coward's way, he supposed. Howl would always embrace his escapism.

He would rather embrace a true escape, though. He didn't believe that the library would provide many answers, but it was a calm place to wile away his time as he waited for a more opportune moment. He would have to get nosier if he wished for answers. The idea wasn't appealing, but what else had Landel left for him?

The books were all dull and unhelpful, and the ones that would help, he already knew. More so than any text, it was a familiar young lady that caught his eye. By chance, she was perusing a magical text. It would likely be full of the sort of watered down magic they sold to the average curious and disillusioned teenager, but there were grains of truth here and there. After all, it was how Howl discovered himself.

"Planning on doing a bit of casting tonight?" he asked Rita, with more charm than he had possessed at the end of their earlier excursion. He had been given plenty of time to recharge after the dip in the lake, at least when a stranger was looking. If Calcifer, Sophie or Michael were around to see, it would be a different story. He did what he could to garner their sympathy.

[bodhiandspirit.livejournal.com]

Rita was vaguely aware of someone approaching her, but her eyes remained fixed on the book. She wasn't even particularly impressed by the book's contents - Rita just didn't like being interrupted while reading. Even when the man spoke to her, she waited until she reached the end of the page to look up at him.

Howl. Just the person she wanted to see.

The book snapped shut in her hand, and Rita regarded the man with a look that wasn't particularly friendly. To his question, she shrugged dismissively. "If my formulas will work here." Without her blastia, Rita was going to have to be resourceful in finding a way to make her spells work. She had already put together some formulas for spell-casting that would hopefully work outside of Terca Lumireis, but they still needed to be tested.

But there was something more important to discuss before getting into that. "You mind telling me what the hell happened last night?" she demanded, her gaze sharpening into a glare. "How did we wind up in a lake, of all places? And then back here again?"

Since Howl had been at the institute longer than her, Rita expected that he should know something. And returning to the institute... Rita didn't remember anything about that. Had she blacked out at some point? And if so, then was it Howl who took her back?