Day 19 – Breakfast

[repolarization.livejournal.com]

As Ginji was ushered through the halls towards the cafeteria he felt a little dizzy. He felt like something was very, very wrong but he wasn't sure what. It wasn't just the fact that he had woken up in the middle of some strange place, or the fact that Ban was no where to be found. Something else was wrong. Something important. Something that he should be noticing but wasn't. He was sure that if Ban was here his partner would have figured it out a long time ago, but Ginji was at a loss. He realized he should be asking questions, demanding to know things, but by the time he opened his mouth to ask anything the smells of foods distracted him.

"Can I really have all the stuff the voice on the speaker was talking about?" he asked the nurse. He found it hard to believe that he could have eggs and waffles and sausage and fruit and cereal. That and he could have milk or juice instead of just water. He tried to remember the last time he had eaten so much. Probably one of those rare occasions that he and Ban didn't lose all their money before they could spend it. His mouth was drooling at the thought. That much food... all at once. It was like a dream. This had to be a dream. That would explain why he felt so out of it, so sluggish.

The nurse nodded and then handed Ginji a plate. He took it and, still not entirely sure that he was really going to be able to eat all of this, began putting food onto it, cherishing every item like it was platinum.

When he made it to the table he sat down and looked at the piles of food he had picked out. He looked at the fork he had also grabbed a little curiously before stabbing at some eggs. Strange. He brought the breakfast to his mouth and cautiously took a small bite.

It was really good!

Suddenly Ginji seemed to be a master at using the fork to shovel massive amounts of food into his mouth as quickly as possible. It was all so good and tasty! He completely forgot that he was in a strange place and that it was probably a bad idea to eat the food they gave him. It felt very good to be able to eat and eat and eat. He didn't even take a moment to realize that Ban wasn't there to steal what he was eating.

Comments

[angels-inflight.livejournal.com]

Naminé was very sore when she woke up, almost to the point of immobility. If it were not for the pangs of hunger stabbing her thin frame (and the fact she was still clutching the files from the other night to her chest), she would have begged the nurse for a day of rest. However, not only did hunger win, but Naminé had to quickly choose a place to hide her files. The underside of the mattress seemed too common, yet the dresser seemed too obvious, but she chose the dresser anyway, burying the files under sketches done when she was bored. Hopefully the nurses didn't clean the dressers out.

The small girl didn't realize how truly hungry she was until she walked into the cafeteria, and her thoughts changed from the horrible events of yesterday to the delicious taste of waffles and sausages and other breakfast foodstuffs. She almost forgot the fact she was supposed to be looking for Luxord to tell him that she grabbed his file and to thank him for protecting her.

The Gambler hadn't come to the cafeteria just yet, she noticed, as she sat down. Naminé also took note of the new layout, which looked the same as it did last night. So the building hadn't changed again... for now.

Staring down at her food, Naminé took small bites. All of the sudden her hunger disappeared as the reality of where she was set in again.

[clockmongler.livejournal.com]

Had it not been for Nursey McNursingson's promise of withholding her syringes laced with death, the need to hide his weapons, and the desire to check on Naminé, Luxord would never have bothered leaving the bed. It felt as though someone had subjected his entire body to a throughoutly good beating and it was much like…

The time he, Xaldin, and Xigbar were to scout China for a good Heartless candidate, and No. II's words angered a very large Hun-army. Yes, it felt exactly like how he did the end of that trip.

"Come on, Daniel. I know the mattress isn't that terrible," Nursingson chided playfully as he scowled at her. Her hand rested against his shoulder, guiding the gambler along as he tried all but not to hobble towards an empty chair. "And I'm serious this time. You have to eat something or you're going to get really sick. You gotta keep your strength up, kay?" These words were received with a sneer, much like the plate she pushed into his arms.

As soon as the woman left his sight, said plate was pushed away from him while he tried to ignore his empty stomach. Perhaps old experiences did not always apply to new ones, but this was one gamble he preferred to leave without a bet. Besides, once his eyes caught on that familiar blonde hair, the thoughts of food were gone anyway. "There you are, peanut. You okay?"

[brilliant-azel.livejournal.com]

Upon entering the cafeteria, Azel didn't see Tamaki anywhere, so he proceeded on his own to get a plate and find an empty spot somewhat away from everyone else. As he thought, this place also was different from what he remembered. Perhaps he had been moved to a separate facility. Did it have something to do with what they did to him? Would there be more incidents like that?

They hadn't run into anything dangerous last night, which was a blessing -- however, he knew they'd just been lucky. It wouldn't always be so easy to move around. He really needed to get his sword back, but doing that meant getting it off of Darman. And meeting up with Darman... wasn't exactly the top priority.

He really didn't want to go near the man right now. There were still bruises on his neck from where the clone had choked him into unconsciousness. Although Azel felt guilty and incredibly sorry for the other night, it couldn't be helped, and part of him knew it wasn't truly his fault. He'd been unable to govern his own body, unable to stop from hurting a friend.

The fork in his hand clattered loudly to the plate as it fell suddenly from his nerveless fingers. He held his head in his hands and shut his eyes tightly, as if he'd block out the memories that flashed through his mind by sheer force alone.

[0ver-the-moon.livejournal.com]

Haru'd woken up back in his room in time to hear the intercom go off this morning. Last night hadn't been very productive, and that annoyed him. Plus he'd not seen the Cat or Lust anywhere, which worried him on top of everything else. And coming into the cafeteria this morning didn't lighten his mood any either.

That damn intercom hadn't been joking with all the names it spouted off the night before. There were a lot of new faces in the room, and not a lot of familiar old ones. It looked like the damned hospital had played shuffle once again. He hoped his friends were alright. With as mixed up as things had been getting lately, it was near impossible to tell.

Filling his plate with the hospital's special - waffles and eggs, though he avoided the sausage with a wrinkle of his nose - he began looking for a place to sit. Spotting a young man not so far away who looked like he was having a rough time of it, Haru headed in that direction and plopped down next to him without so much as a by-your-leave, but a friendly smile hopefully enough to make up for it.

"This seat's not taken, is it? Good. Looks like you've had a rough morning already."

[31st-of-china.livejournal.com]

Sanzo woke up with the pistol in his hands, his knuckles white from the death grip he'd had on it. The monk stared at it with more than a little disbelief.
He hadn't expected to still have it: if these people were capable of knocking the prisoners here out and transporting them like this, there was no reason that they couldn't disarm them. Yet, there it was, metal and remaining rounds and currently forming a imprint of the grip against his palm.

Things had shifted, ever so slightly. This morning he was armed. He could do something other than stifle his pride and be led around like a lamb to a slaughter that was coming now or later. He had a little more control, and that in itself was reassuring.

He could put a bullet into the orderlies - the nurse if she became a problem - and start demanding answers. Find the sutra, Goku, and escape.

It was tempting. The monk had only spent two days or so at this place, and he was already sick of it. Sanzo didn't feel anything towards the nurse: shooting her was a waste of a bullet, and she hadn't actually done anything to him. If he could, he'd avoid it.

That orderly though.... Sanzo had taken a potshot or two at idiots like him for even looking at him the wrong way, and this orderly hit that minimium and past it. The orderlies had the most chance of causing trouble, so putting a round into each of them was inevitable.

He dismissed the idea with a grimace. Five rounds had been used last night, which left around twelve. He didn't have any more. Sanzo highly doubted that there were only just that many staff here; it'd be too convienent, and too idiotic of the prison staff. The priest could take out twelve if he hit each one exactly, but what then?

Sanzo hid the gun under the mattress. It wasn't much of hiding place, but he didn't want to risk the staff searching the desk.

The same nurse and orderly showed up to escort him to the cafeteria, with the orderly waving that little syringe, even though Sanzo hadn't even made a run for it yet. They all knew it, but it was just to show that he could. The nurse, in return, just shot the orderly a dissapproving look, and gently beckoned the monk out. Sanzo just imagined putting a very real bullet between the orderly's eyes.

It was a satisfying enough thought to keep him quiet until he reached the cafeteria.

[class-one.livejournal.com]

That had been surreal. One moment Zack was reveling in the fact that he'd just gotten to punch Hojo in the nose and the next he was back in that room, the storm gone and the sun out.

Meeting the nurse had been an ordeal, especially when he had to try (and ultimately fail) to convince her that his name was not Parker. Then again, RC had mentioned that things were somewhat off during the day (in a different way than at night), so Zack tried not to be overly spooked about the general unsettling atmosphere.

Either way, breakfast sounded like a great idea. He'd been dead for far too long and food had been scarce during the last few weeks of his life. He was famished. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was alive, but he knew there was no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth.

He didn't put up a fuss as the nurse moved him into the cafeteria, instead focusing on how good all the food smelled. The waffles in particular were making his mouth water. After gathering up an impressive amount of food, the nurse left him alone so that he could eat. Zack quickly found a table that was currently only occupied by one blond man.

Blond. Dammit. Where was Cloud?

Smiling as he sat down near the stranger, he shoved a few bites of waffle into his mouth before glancing over. "Morning," he called amiably. "So you're a prisoner in this, too? I just woke up here last night so I'm not really sure what's going on." He'd figure it out, though, in one way or another.

[red-dragon-mode.livejournal.com]

(( Sorry. ^^'' Forgot something. ))

Junior was still trying to figure out what was going on when he found himself waking up in his room. Last he remembered, the hall had gotten a bit crowded and before that there was fighting and...Albedo. He was there, Junior had seen him. But he had also seen his brother die. He'd wanted to run after him, but his mind was still saying that it couldn't possibly be him, and that the heartbeat he'd felt was a memory. Not to mention running around alone without a weapon probably wasn't a good idea, considering what he'd been told.

But...he'd woken up. He wasn't sure if he'd really dreamt that or not. How could his twin be in this hell hole? It just didn't make sense.

Well, no surprise there, the redhead thought to himself. Since he'd woken up in this place, it had only served to confuse him and screw with his brain.

He was still thinking about the previous night (though he took the time to roll his eyes when the intercom blared again) when the nurse came in and started ushering him towards the cafeteria. Junior just gritted his teeth and wondered how well giving the nurse the finger when he went on into the cafeteria would go over while walking between her and the orderly. Well, if Albedo was there for breakfast, then he wasn't dreaming. If not, then all he could really do was hope that no one he knew showed up. This was definitely not something he'd want to wish on Gaignun or MOMO.

After getting his breakfast, which actually looked pretty damn tasty, he sat down at a table facing the doors. He had to know if it was just his imagination.

[kukai.livejournal.com]

It was then that the doors to the cafeteria swung open, and a slim young nurse with an immensely irritating smile sauntered through the doorway, followed shortly by one rather disheveled-looking Gaignun Kukai. He stared blankly at the back of her head as they walked together, his deep green eyes narrowed, both contemplative and baffled. Several places on his arms were wrapped in a thick layer of gauze.

"--good to see a patient following instructions so nicely, Mr. Black!" the nurse chirped, chattering away at him in a painfully cheerful manner that Gaignun would've preferred to avoid, if he had had a choice in the matter. Her voice and intense brightness grated on his nerves and exacerbated his already paralyzing headache. Unfortunately, she didn't sound like she was going to stop; his silence seemed only to encourage her to speak for him. In fact, if he imagined, she could almost be having a conversation with herself. A particularly loud exclamation from the nurse sent a sharp barb of pain into his temple. He grimaced. Well, if she wouldn't stop, he would just pretend she had. Gaignun did his best to tune her out, and refocused on the events of the night before.

He remembered walking out of the room he had been occupying into a long hallway. He remembered walking along that hallway, cautiously, seeking doors and purposely avoiding others in case they were of an enemy force. He had walked quite a while, but he was sure he hadn't gotten far before something had confronted him-- something with teeth and claws and a horrible yowl...

Gaignun lifted his arms, looking over the many bandaged areas with wounds beneath that still faintly stung, even though they had quite obviously been treated. He did not remember being attacked. Then again, he didn't remember much of anything. He had struck out at the beast with every ounce of his mental strength, it had recoiled with a shriek, and after that... nothing at all...

A brief pause in his thoughts alerted him to the fact that his nurse had stopped talking. He glanced around curiously, not daring to hope. Upon his discovery, he almost breathed a sigh of relief. She had left him. Apparently he was where he needed to be. The room was obviously a cafeteria; the smell of food was thick in the air and several nurses were serving grey-clad individuals breakfast. Gaignun did not feel particularly like wondering what that meant this place was. In fact, he felt more like collapsing right there in the middle of the room, but that, unfortunately, was probably not an option.

Choosing to put off the reflection until later, Gaignun briefly considered getting a plate. Food meant energy, and he could certainly do with some of that. At length, though, he decided against it. Food may have meant energy, but he doubted he could keep it down long enough for it to do him any good, anyways. Gaignun shook his head slowly and began walking in any direction, casting his gaze straight ahead--

--and spotting a face so familiar and shocking that he very nearly jumped back.

"Jr.?"

[soul-defender.livejournal.com]

For once, much to the delight of the young man's nurse, Ichigo Kurosaki was almost pleasant come the morning. He didn't put up a fuss or a fight when the curtains of his room were thrown open to let in the sun's waking glow, not for an instant; instead, he merely rolled his way out of a tangled mess of covers and bed sheets when asked, stretching out the sleep from his strong, lanky limbs, and went about his business. His normally clentched jaws opening wide, Ichigo let out a deep, bellowing yawn as he ran his fingers like a comb through the fields of his orange hair as he shuffled out of his bedroom yet again and shuffled his way down the hallways towards the cafeteria.

While his brain, still half-asleep, was not able to fully process the information, he would eventually come to realize what a shame last night was; he and Roy were mere footsteps away from the kitchen the previous night, a place where they obviously could have found a bounty of supplies.

As he entered the new cafeteria for the first time, Ichigo looked fairly awake, though his vivid eyes fluttered periodically. In he came, his feet barely lifting off the ground with each step, as he joined the line for his meal. No one could call him picky, but he didn't pick out much for breakfast; two waffles and a big, healthy assortment of fruit was all he wanted, and as custom dictated, he quickly found himself a nice, open and empty table to sit and begin eating quietly, never bothering to break his usual scowl for a single moment.

[beforehertime.livejournal.com]

When Elena woke, she hurt. It seemed that the only parts of her body that didn't feel like they'd fallen victim to a steamroller were the two pigtails on either side of her head. She puzzled over this, probing what was obviously a new set of stitches on the inside of her cheek with her tounge, when the events of the previous night suddenly came back to her.

The girl promptly vomited.

Oh God. I hurt people. I hurt them and they could've died and Oh God Oh God Oh God.

The nurse entered to find her charge already awake, shaking, and covered in bile. She sighed, moving to lay a comforting hand on the trembling shoulder. "Regina, sweetheart, I know it hurts. That's why you mustn't climb things! If your lightbulb needs changing, come TELL US! Don't try to fix things yourself. You bit almost clean through your cheek when you fell, and got a nasty concussion." The woman's large, beefy hands moved to remove the child's soiled shirt, revealing a large, purple bruise on her stomach. "Tsk. It's a wonder you didn't break anything, you silly girl. But...count your blessings, 's what I say. You didn't hurt yourself TOO badly, and the swelling in your face is already almost gone. The pain medication the night shift nurse gave you along with that nasty bump on your head will make your tummy hurt for a little while...don't eat too much at breakfast!" She chattered on in this vein for some time, cleaning and bandaging and fussing over an entirely compliant Elena.

When the girl was deemed presentable, the nurse led her to the cafeteria.

They changed the layout again, Elena thought absently, though...somewhere in the back of her mind, she already knew that. Probably because of last night.

Her stomach lurched violently when she saw the waffles, so she thought she'd better play it safe with some cereal (no milk) and a glass of water. She didn't want to face anyone , not after what those bastards had made her do last night, but somehow her feet started to walk in the direction of a familiar orange head.

"I-I'm...I'M SO SORRY!" Elena cried as soon as she was close enough. "Are you okay? Did they take out the bullet? Are you going to have any horrible scarring? I'm so so so SO sorry! Please forgive me..."

[muted-flame.livejournal.com]

Morning found Roy irritated, sore, and tired. He should have known it wasn't worth it to go wandering around on special counseling nights, but he had wanted to make use of those damned keys. He had three of them--one of them had to take him somewhere important, somewhere with answers.

Maybe it was all pointless. The nurses had dropped two of the keys and Lust had found the other one. Maybe it was the Head Doctor, playing with them further. Maybe they wouldn't lead to anywhere, or maybe just to fake information.

Or maybe it was a test, in the end. And the one that found the right place first got to go home.

Either way, giving up wasn't an option, even though the alchemist had found that a day didn't usually go by where he didn't feel like crap. He was going to have to take a nap later on, though getting some food in his stomach would probably do him a world of good--and perhaps give him enough energy that he could practice that shielding a bit more.

Despite that thought, Roy didn't pile his plate with food like the others. He got a waffle and a bowl of cereal and settled at an empty table, hoping to all hopes that he didn't pass out face-first into his food.

[grabby-hands.livejournal.com]

One second, Greed had been discussing recruitment and the merits of it with Schuldig and the space cowboy, and next, he'd found himself staring at a white ceiling like he had just hours before.

The hell?

Greed swung to his feet, stretching his arms and finding that he was still in that fucking stupid shirt and sweats, along with his hands having gone back to their normal, fleshy selves. He blinked a little, turning over his left hand and finding himself glancing at the ouroboros, as if to assure himself it was still there.

The homunculus frowned, then smirked wryly. Come on, now. There wasn't much to be worried about, even with all of this blacking out and waking up and limited powers and all that nonsense. Greed was Greed, and he'd get whatever he damn well pleased if he had to tear this place to shreds--

"Mr. Bailey?"

Greed's head snapped up and he stared at the woman who had just opened the door to his room.

"Marcus Bailey?"

Although the homunculus hadn't yet spent much time at all in this place, he found himself noticing that the hallway behind her was much different than it had been before--much whiter, brighter, friendlier. Still, Greed had learned far too many times that although something might've been pretty, it didn't mean it was necessarily inviting.

And there was something about that name...

He looked back to the girl, noting her cute face and equally warm smile. He grinned. At least the way they reeled a guy in was one he wasn't too adverse to.

All right. He'd go along for now, scope out the place, try to figure out the extent of his powers before he did anything stupid. Although Greed was looking forward to breaking out, he was smart enough to know now wasn't the time to do it.

Besides. He didn't like fighting with girls, or at least the ones who weren't fighting him.

So, he gave a sharp-toothed smile, wondering vaguely why she didn't acknowledge it as she led him out into the hallway, and frowning slightly at the decidedly more intimidating, more male orderlies that escorted him down the hall and into...

...The cafeteria, huh? Greed took a great big whiff of air and found himself grinning. Well, if this stuff tasted half as good as it smelled, maybe the idiot on the intercom wasn't so full of shit after all--during the day, anyway.

Day, night... The hell was this place?

Although Greed would have preferred "hard liquor" to be one of the choices, he supposed orange juice was about as close as they would give him. He stood with the plate he had piled food upon covetously, a feeling of somewhat self-conscious absurdity dawning on him as he realized he was in a ridiculous uniform in a ridiculous place with something pretty damn ridiculous in his hands. Not that Greed cared what other people thought of him, but what he thought of himself was beginning to dwindle just a bit.

Violet eyes wandered the room, narrowing when their owner was reminded once again of how much his senses had been dampened by this place. Still, even with average sight, he found himself able to tell that the grand majority of these faces were giving him the same weird, unsettling feeling as Schuldig had the night before, with the exception of...

Greed frowned. That guy... he could have sworn he'd seen him somewhere before--not in person, but perhaps on a sign or a newspaper picture. It was when the homunculus drew closer, however, with curious steps, that he realized something wholly more interesting about the guy.

He had a homunculus eye.

Not two, but one. Greed wasn't sure what to think of it, recalling what he'd heard of one of the new homunculi--Pride--and how he'd had one human eye and one ouroboros-marked one, though he'd never had the dubious pleasure of seeing it for himself.

This could be good or bad, but the sin figured that any other homunculi he came across here were probably traitors to the hag as well. He slid into the seat across from the guy, arching an eyebrow as he faced him.

"Hey." Greed cocked his head to the side, flashing a sharp-toothed grin. "Dante send all of her failures to this place, or are you just here for the waffles?"

[grosse-sklaven.livejournal.com]

Last night... that could have gone much better. Adelheid's hands were once again swathed in bandages, this time even more thickly than before, so much so that he couldn't even close his fists; the pain from the energy he'd poured out against that monster had been a move of utter desperation, and now he was paying the price. His leg, too, was bound as best as could be managed, and he had to stick it straight out beneath the table in order to keep it from hurting. His neck was bandaged from where the creature had clawed at his throat, and overall? Adel was just plain not in the best shape.

He couldn't even get breakfast for himself, and at that moment, he was too drained to muster up the energy to introduce himself to anyone. If they wanted to come to him, that was one thing. But right now, it hurt to take any steps at all, so he didn't want to haul himself all over the place.

...someday, he was going to get through a night without crippling himself.

[dead-draven.livejournal.com]

Eric woke in his bed a bit surprised. Just as it had been the night before, he woke without any memory of falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was standing with Adelheid in the cafeteria, so opening his eyes to the rough ceiling of the room he remembered from the night before was quite odd.

A calm nurse knocked on the doorframe, smiling in at him. "Come on, Mr. Jones, it's time for breakfast. Wouldn't want to miss it, would we?"

He turned his gaze to her, meeting her eyes with his own rather unsettling mismatched ones. She didn't react, however, just continued to smile. "Please come along, Mr. Jones."

Jones...? Well, Adelheid had warned him that the place was odd. He pushed himself to his feet. "I do belong in a place like this," he murmured to himelf with a little half smile, walking toward the nurse. The nuse caught this and just nodded. "Of course you do, Mr. Jones. We all belong here at Landels."

Eric tilted his head to the side and caught a glimpse of the name on her clipboard and began to suddenly laugh uncontrollably while the nurse looked on in mild alarm. "Mr. Jones...we really should be going."

His laughter trailed off and settled into a smile, and he nodded. "Oh, yes of course," he said, though he still giggled a bit. Mercutio Jones. Wasn't that just the glorious depths of irony?

He followed the nurse to the cafetiria without further complaint, picking idly at his clothes. They didn't bother him so much, though he was glad they'd left the tape binding his arms intact. The shirt showed it a bit more than he liked, but, ah well. One couldn't have everything in life.

When he was ushered into the cafeteria, he spent a long moment just observing the variety of people gathered there. Well, Adelheid hadn't been joking when he'd spoken of people from all worlds, had he? And speaking of the teenager he spotted him at a nearby table. He headed directly to him, skipping the breakfast line altogether and sliding into the seat across from him.

"Good morning," he said, arms folded on the table. In full light, he could get a better look at Adelheid and took advantage of this, studying him briefly. Despite his powerful night vision the lights did not make him wince. They did, however, highlight the finer details of his marred body, the thin scar that trailed across his nose like a broken flower stem.

[foxyroses.livejournal.com]

Departing from the nurse who'd led him to the cafeteria, Kurama casually stood in the doorway for a moment, less than eager to enter into the room. As far as he knew, this was a mental hospital, wasn't it? By that logic, the people in this room were mental patients, and more than likely less than stable. He had his suspicions that there was something more to this, but he wasn't the one to act on impulse. He needed to know more about this place before he'd even think to approach anyone.

Entering the room, he kept his gaze straight ahead as he moved towards the counter to grab his food, though took note of the others as he passed by. They all seemed normal enough. No one was exactly throwing a fit or doing anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps then, they were like him? It was too soon to tell...

Dropping a waffle onto his plate with some eggs and sausage along the edge, Kurama grabbed some orange juice before turning out to face the rest of the room. Everyone seemed to be talking with others, but then the redhead's gaze landed on a boy who seemed to be able his age. Kurama couldn't help but smile just a bit, noticing how the boy was devouring everything but the plate in front of him. It reminded him a bit of Yusuke, or perhaps Kuwabara...

Shoving aside the nostalgia, Kurama made his way over to the boy, determined to discover if he was the only sane one here or not. "Hello," he spoke as he paused next to the boy, motioning to the space next to him. "Is this seat taken?"

[repolarization.livejournal.com]

Ginji looked up at the voice speaking to him. Half of a breakfast sausage was sticking out of his mouth. He realized this was very impolite so he swallowed it quickly. "Oh, it's not," he said, giving the red-head a friendly smile and gesturing to him to usher him to sit down.

His eyes glanced around. Wow a lot of people had shown up really quickly. He had been so focused on the food that he hadn't realized. He made a quick scan to see if any of them were Ban, but he didn't see his partner. Shoving aside a frown in favor of making a new friend Ginji looked back at the one who had spoken to him.

"My name's Amano Ginji, but you can call me Ginji!" He, after all, liked being on instant friendly terms with people. He had no problem with a stranger calling him by his first name only.

[a_sin_for_him]

Lust followed her nurse into breakfast, her calve bandaged and cleaned but still hurting. A quick glance around the cafeteria revealed two things: one, Haru was alive and well. Two, everyone she would normally go and sit with was already engaged in conversations. And with people she had no desire to expose herself to first thing in the morning.

At least she had done something last night, small as it had been. She took pleasure in killing the creatures that roamed the building at night. Calf still aching, Lust got herself breakfast and sat down by herself.

[theycutitout.livejournal.com]

Morning was more harsh than the evening, River decided as she was ushered by her entourage of nurse and orderlies to the cafeteria. Evening was something cold and ominous, but morning was so much worse... Too-wide smiles and fractured brightness glared brilliantly in the evidence of their falsehood. Everything about it all was violent, moreso than it was when the lights went out. Everything about it all was broken in a logical way.

Her injured leg from two nights before now had suffered a great deal of pressure during the battle with that other patient, and River frowned to find that she was again limping slightly. Fashioned as weapon, yet she broke so easily. Whatever made them think that people could stand the test of time to live as weapons? They were all trash, disposable in some way.

It seemed natural that she found her way over to Lust almost immediately. She had a stronger connection with the older woman (or not entirely) than most of the other patients save Dias and Scar, and it was easy to pick up her indechiperable brain speak.

"He wanted to find you last night. I only know because he was very loud about it," River offered without preamble. Her eyes shifted to the ground, and all of a suddent she resembled a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I'm sorry. It was my fault that he didn't."

[k4t4str0ph4l.livejournal.com]

This habit of waking up when he didn't even remember going to sleep was starting to get on Schuldig's nerves, a fact that the aggravatingly cheerful nurse who had the misfortune to have him as a charge discovered in very short order. Much to his aggravation, he couldn't hear her mind at all - he'd encountered that before, although not since Rosenkreuz, and its recurrence here inspired nostalgia of the worst kinds - but that didn't necessarily stop him from broadcasting a mental image or two to her, and possibly to the people on the rooms on either side of him - they were quite graphic, and seeing her falter in the face of that provided him with at least some satisfaction.

He could still hear the minds around him, which was some reassurance. Nothing interesting, really, aside from the passing knowledge that a number of people had sustained injuries during the night (not that he cared, since none of them were him) and the awareness that his room was no longer in the women's dormitory section(another thing he didn't really care about one way or the other, although the question of how he'd gotten there was a little disturbing).

He was beginning to note a disturbing trend, entirely aside from the ever-present headache - none of the minds he could enter was the mind of someone who actually knew what was going on. The staff were off-limits to him, somehow.

Well, he might not know what was happening or why, but Schuldig knew one thing. If he ever laid his hands on the bastard behind the PA system he was going to shove that microphone so far down his throat that people could broadcast messages from his navel.

That thought was cheerful enough to make the blank-minded chaperone and the headache bearable - combined with a tray heavy on the eggs and sausage, at least. Although he was aware of Greed's presence within the room, he decided against joining him for the moment; he wasn't sure just how much of Greed's mindset that people were property, and Schuldig his newest acquisition, he wanted to encourage. Besides, the man was damned pleased with the way his conversation was going and the German wasn't sure he wanted interruptions.

He found an empty table and folded himself into the closest seat with his tray. Even that tiny scrap of isolation made the thoughts around him a little quieter, and allowed him to (at least for the moment) retreat into his own. If anything particularly interesting developed, he expected it'd catch his attention.

[felled-hero.livejournal.com]

Well, last night had been... Hughes didn't want to think about it. He breathed easier when he got to the dining hall and saw that Adelheid and Eric were alive and didn't look horribly traumatized, as far as he could tell. Whatever had been after them last night hadn't gotten them. He was tempted to head over and just touch base with them - he knew Adelheid was involved with Dante, but the guy was decent as far as Hughes could tell - but they looked pretty involved in their own conversation. And so did Roy. With Greed. How nice. Hughes couldn't help a tightening of his jaw at that - he knew it was stupid, but the damn homunculus got under his skin. Quistis wasn't anywhere to be seen, which didn't improve his darkening mood any. No Scar, either. Or Ed or Al. Or Havoc. In fact, the people he usually gravitated towards were either absent or deep in conversation already.

Hughes wasn't about to go sit by himself and mope, though. He scanned the room as he got his breakfast and looked over the folks who were by themselves. There sure were a lot of new faces around this morning. The patients released last night and this morning, obviously. Hughes decided to approach one of them, casually heading over and standing across the table from the long haired man.

"This seat taken?" he asked, offering his usual friendly grin - despite his less-than-great mood.

[heavens-too-far.livejournal.com]

Dias had, when his vision began to blur, thought he might be passing out due to blood loss and had for a moment been alarmed - not at the possibility so much as the fact that he didn't think he'd been losing enough blood to justify that sort of thing, so something had to be wrong. When he opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling, he'd almost been relieved; the thought of losing that much blood and not noticing was disturbing, but apparently it had merely been the institute's way of letting him know the night was over.

...actually, that was disturbing, too, but at least it didn't suggest any sort of deficiency on his part.

Before he'd actually thought about the action, he moved to sit up - and then quickly aborted the effort and dropped back onto the bed again as every muscle between his left shoulder and his left calf informed him of exactly how unwise that had been. He'd been stabbed with something that had a diameter of an inch at best, and even if he'd been burned as well as punctured it was amazing how such a small wound could radiate pain up his entire side.

More than that, there was something restricting his movement somewhat. Dias carefully lifted his shirt and observed, with some astonishment, a clean white bandage encircling his torso. When he cautiously ran his fingers over the area of the wound, he felt a tightly compressed lump beneath the bandage of what was presumably gauze. There was also no trace of blood, either on his skin or his clothing.

Someone had cleaned him up during the night, had bandaged his wounds with clinical precision and certainly better first-aid materials than Scar or River had access to(assuming that River and Scar would have stayed conscious any longer than he had)...why? Aside from Scar and River and Lust, there was no one in the institute that had any reason to care whether or not he was injured, certainly not enough to waste their medical supplies on him. Unless it had been the staff...

But that presumably meant the staff wasn't as unaware of what happened at night as they seemed. Which, somehow, unsettled Dias more than anything else - it was easier to think of the night and day faces of Landel's as being completely separate than to imagine that they were somehow connected. The levels of duplicity it suggested made him feel distinctly out of his depth.

He might have remained lying there uneasily contemplating the nature of the institute if he hadn't become aware of the fact that the fingers of his right hand were going numb. He opened them reflexively -

The clatter of metal on the floor alerted him immediately, and he (more slowly than before) pushed himself upright and slid out of bed.

There was another layer of complexity lying at his feet. If the staff had in fact tended to his wounds, why had they left him the poker?

[heavens-too-far.livejournal.com]

Bending down to retrieve it was painful; the left side of his body ached whenever he moved. But, in the end, he managed to pick it up; he didn't know how the poker had come to be left in his hands but he wasn't going to test his luck that the staff would overlook it twice. With some difficulty, he hid it as he'd hid the ladle by sliding it into the bedframe beneath his mattress, with less than a minute to spare between its concealment and the nurse's entry into the room.

Tired, sore, and suspicious, Dias' escort found her charge even quieter than usual as she led him to the cafeteria. Much to Dias' own chagrin, the ache in his side resulted in a slight but detectable limp; the only positive side was that it made him angry, which felt more satisfying than confusion and uncertainty. And, to his quiet inner amusement, he discovered that he looked forbidding enough to make the cafeteria women cringe back slightly when he directed his glower at them.

With a tray so overloaded that it required careful balancing, Dias surveyed his choices in dining companions. River and Lust - whom Dias was grateful to see, as she was the only one they hadn't managed to check up on during the night - seemed to be talking, but in his current mood Dias wasn't sure he was fit to talk to them. He didn't particularly want to have his injury brought up, either; he hadn't dealt well with sympathy, or pity as he usually saw it, for quite some time. The colonel he'd been meaning to talk to seemed engaged with someone else, and Scar apparently hadn't arrived yet. This last piece of information worried the mercenary somewhat; hopefully Scar's wounds had been treated like his own during the night, but he'd never had the opportunity to check the extent of them. Aside from that, there was no one visible he particularly wished to speak to.

This, Dias discovered when he moved to sit down, was probably just as well. It was irritating enough being wounded and hindered without anyone in the immediate vicinity staring at him as he painfully lowered himself into a chair.

[commoner-girl.livejournal.com]

Well. Her first encounter with those monsters could have gone better. She could have hit one, but she reasoned she handled herself well enough. Didn't panic and didn't get herself or anyone else hurt. But right now, she would be content to have a quiet breakfast with no interruptions. And Lust looked occupied with River at the moment.

Maybe later today she could find Cliff and finally get started on learning how to defend herself around here. Though how they could start working on self-defense without drawing too much attention escaped; Cliff probably had an idea about that, though.

She sat down at the far end of the cafeteria, happy at least they must of hired a new cook. The food now stood head and shoulders above the previous fare, and if anything could affect Haruhi at all, it was good food.

[lighthearted]

Sora woke up gasping.

That scorpion, it was going to...!

Oh. Blinking, he slowly eased himself into a sitting position. The only problem with that was that his entire middle was sore and sitting up required working those muscles. Sora couldn't bite back a whimper, but no one was in the room with him, anyway.

He remembered rather clearly how the scorpion had circled its pincer all the way around his abdomen and squeezed until it crushed. He was pretty sure no ribs had been broken. Bruised, though? That was another story.

Sighing, the boy lifted his shirt, frowning at a thick line of bruising that seemed to go all the way around his abdomen. He moved both hands to his back and pressed to check if the bruising truly did make it that--oof, yes. Yes it did.

A nurse came in after that, tsking at his injury. "Honestly, Matthew... Or should I call you Matt? You shouldn't be so intense when you hula-hoop!"

Sora gave the woman an incredulous look and experienced what he believed was a first in a lifetime. He couldn't think of a response that wouldn't be sarcastic. So he didn't say anything at all. Instead, he stood from his bed and let the woman escort him to the cafeteria. Walking was enough to make him hurt, but he slowly became accustomed to the pain.

The food looked amazing (and was a good distraction from how much he hurt), so the boy made sure to get some waffles, sausage, and eggs. He scanned the room--as tempted as he was to speak to Naminé, he knew it wasn't a good idea with Luxord present. So Sora instead decided to meet someone new. He saw a boy who looked around his age sitting on his own, so he moved to join him.

Groaning quietly as he eased into a seat near the stranger, he made sure to smile around the pain. "Morning."

[perfectdevotion.livejournal.com]

The night could have been worse, but it certainly could have been better as well. Katan felt as though the long hours in the dark had been simply wasted.

He wandered into the cafeteria and seated himself at a table. He paid no real attention to its other occupants; he had too much on his mind. He pushed the food around on his plate, picking at it a little. It wasn't that it was particuarly bad -- it honestly wasn't. It was more that he had very little appetite.

Where the hell was this place?
Who was the Kevin Angelov whose name was scrawled across the journal he'd found on the desk in the room he'd woken up in this morning?
How had he ended back up in that room? Last he rememebered, he'd been searching the hallways with that boy. Riku. Or, rather, Not-Riku.

Still, he'd followed the nurses' instructions, responded to the name as she'd addressed him, and generally had been agreeable. Better to move forward. If Rosiel-sama were there by night, he'd be there by day.

But where?

Katan idly lifted his fork to his mouth and picked the strawberry off the end of it with his teeth.

[ex-destinye.livejournal.com]

The night had, once again, become quite a pointless endeavor. It seemed that as soon as it seemed like they started to make headway it was morning again. A chance at breakfast seemed like deja vu instead of a chance for a meal. It had Riku feeling quite unenthusiastic towards getting up in the morning and being ushered into the main room.

He had, however, made progress in starting a small map. That was something.

So as the usual routine went by now, he got his try of unappealing-looking food and sat at his usual table. He was starting to develop a routine table–that wasn’t promising in the least. There always seemed to be a new face there which always proved interesting conversation. Riku sat at the opposite end as the person with a slight sigh. “Good morning,” the tone he used quite contradicted the sigh. It almost sounded normal for him, “I’m Riku. I uh..hope you don’t mind if I take a seat.”

[reunion.livejournal.com]

When Kadaj woke up that morning, it was in a considerably better mood than he had been in the night before. Maybe the time away from those other nuisances had something to do with it, or maybe it was just the fact that he had finally gotten some rest.... Whatever the case, he no longer felt like murdering everyone in his general vicinity-- at least, until he noticed the Materia was gone.

He gave a small jolt, one fleeting moment of pure panic overtaking him before he managed to shove it aside. Very slowly, he brought his hand up to his left forearm, lightly rubbing the spot. Had he just missed it? Was the Materia just weaker during the day and harder to sense? He tentatively began to prepare a Cure spell, watching his arm closely for the telltale glow of energy.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he tried harder. Still nothing. It couldn't really be gone, could it? He rose to his feet and began to search the bed frantically, looking for the other Materia. If that one was there, the other had to be too, right? It couldn't have just disappeared. That wasn't possible, not when the thing was in his arm. Unless they had other ways...

He kicked the frame of the bed hard out of sheer frustration once the truth of the situation sank in. The resulting sharp pain in his foot didn't do much to help matters, nor did slamming his fist against the wall, flopping back onto the bed, and fuming. It made it much easier to accept, though, that the Materia was gone.

All right. Fine. He could deal with that. He still had his sword, tucked safely away in his room, so that meant he was back right the way he had been before the horrible night had started. Almost. His shoulder and leg... no, they were fine, or at least would be fine. All of that work had just been for nothing. All the more reason to exact the revenge that had been so cruelly denied him...

His nurse chose that moment to step in, clucking disapprovingly when she saw him still in bed. "Were you making those loud noises earlier?" she asked, shaking her head at him. When Kadaj remained stubbornly silent, she shook her head at him then clapped her hands in a decidedly matronly fashion. "Come on, Mr. Johnson, time to get up. Breakfast has already started."

Sighing in exasperation, Kadaj dragged himself to his feet and put on his slippers, glaring at her all the while. Thoroughly unimpressed with this behavior, she led him to the cafeteria in relative silence, picking up on the fact that talking was one of the last things he wanted to do right now.

Once they arrived, he gratefully separated from the nurse and went to get some food, examining everything set out perhaps a little too closely. The waffles didn't seem too bad, so he settled for getting some of those before setting out to find a seat.

He briefly debated going to have a little chat with Elena, but Ichigo's presence spurned him away from that idea. He didn't think the shinigami would take very kindly to the inevitable threats he'd be giving the girl, so he'd just have to corner her later that day. That was fine. He would be patient.

Not finding anyone particularly interesting among the others in the room either, he ended up sitting somewhere relatively secluded and began to eat his waffles. Anything to pass the time.

[not-a-savior.livejournal.com]

Nowe blinked, realizing that for the second time in less than a few hours, he was waking up in a bed he knew he wasn't supposed to be in. Last night he'd found himself wandering the halls alone. When the monster had come, they'd all panicked and scattered in different directions... Nowe hadn't been able to find Riku, Fayt, or Ed anywhere. He vaguely remembered tripping over something in the darkness and hitting the ground, and now he was back in that room again? He didn't get it at all. There was a soft knock at the door, and Nowe flinched, leapt up, grasped for the flashlight which had somehow found its way back under his pillow, and held it out like he would his sword. He watched the door swing open, and braced himself, raising his arms to strike the blow...

"Mr. Scarborough, please put that down immediately! My goodness..." The nurse said, reaching out and taking the flashlight out of Nowe's fingers, which were now stiff from surprise.

"Scarborough?" He asked, sounding absolutely baffled, "But my name is Nowe..."

"You're just being silly, Mr. Scarborough, your first name is Noah." The nurse said patiently, and grasped his wrist gently, starting to tug him out to the hallway insistently. "Now please hurry, or you'll be late for breakfast. We're having waffles, eggs, and bacon today. Doesn't that sound good?"

"But--" Nowe began to argue, but it was apparent that this woman, however friendly, would take no argument. He allowed himself to be led toward the cafeteria, where the warm smells of food wafted through the doorway. Nowe's stomach growled insistently... that's right, before he'd ended up in this hospital he hadn't eaten that particular day. He hadn't had anything the night before, so food sounded like a good idea. His nurse left him, and so Nowe made his way over to the food, picking up a tray and piling waffles (which he investigated very closely before taking), eggs, and bacon onto it.

He turned, slowly, peering around the cafeteria for the familiar faces of the boys he'd met the night before, but he couldn't find any of them. He paused, considering all the open spots before deciding on one near the silver-haired young man who seemed to be sitting away from everyone else. He stuck out quite a bit, and maybe he'd be able to explain a few things. Or maybe he was new, like Nowe was, and didn't know the workings of the place. Either way, Nowe decided that talking to this one would be a good place to start. So he plodded over and set down his tray in front of him.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked politely, starting to take a seat anyway.

[reduxvalentine.livejournal.com]

The climb to consciousness from the blare of the intercom was slow and steady, but when Vincent shot up and awake he had only scant seconds before the hazy amnesia of sleep abandoned him like a cruel mother.

Oh, God.

As the feel the of splatter of bone and blood onto his eye and the grip of the chainsaw as it jammed on vertebrae suddenly flooded back like a river of eviscerated cognizance, Vincent leapt toward the small sink and violently vomited.

After a long, silent moment he wiped at his mouth, stomach churning as sweat rolled down his chin.

He'd killed Cloud Strife.

Murdered him. Brutally. And he'd tried to do the same to Cid. ...With the thick poison hanging in the air of the hallway, what was functioning in his hysterical mind right now knew no one could have survived that.

What had he done?

The door behind him pushed open, and it took two orderlies to haul the near-catatonic Mr. Shepard to the cafeteria.

[qui-gonjinn.livejournal.com]

This seemed to be an all-human medical center, Qui-Gon Jinn noted silently as he followed the female ahead of him. Try as he might, he couldn't get a sense of her through the Force - even when he resorted to what would've felt like irritating flicks upside the back of the head - and soon had to come to the unfortunate conclusion that it was a lost cause. For now, anyway. The prospect of food sounded better and better, however, and the graying Jedi found himself looking forward to it.

At least he wasn't about to fall over and crush the poor female medic leading the way. Not after she seemed to notice his difficulty and doubled back to lend a helping arm, flashing him a small, yet genuine smile as he thanked her.

Entering the cafeteria, Qui-Gon realized that it was where one collected their daily meals. So now he had a place for this new local name.

"Try not to exert yourself, Mr. Gray," the medic said, preparing to go.

"I won't," Qui-Gon promised. Not much, anyway, he amended.

The Jedi glanced around the cafeteria as he collected his food on the colored tray, looking around with what looked to be only mild curiosity, yet taking in every detail. No sign of any familiar faces. Strange, he would have assumed he'd have seen a familiar Jedi face around here. He hoped for Obi-Wan, but he would have assumed that his former Padawan would have stayed behind on Naboo, to see matters through. Perhaps he thought his Master was dead. That thought sent a brief pang of pain through him.

He didn't want to give Obi-Wan more reason to feel grief and pain, yet he knew the boy - no, the young man - had to. And would. The last thing Qui-Gon remembered was the vision of the Force about his Padawan: he had a greater destiny to look forward to. One with pain and laughter and change.

Qui-Gon sat down, examining the unfamiliar food. He looked up as two male medics suddenly materialized at his side, with a young, distraught man hanging between them, barely on his feet. Qui-Gon frowned. The young man looked disheveled, long black hair hanging over his pale face, expression haggard. Even so, that face was elegant, looking to be chipped from marble than just flesh and bones.

The Jedi Master suffered a cruel start.

Xanatos?

No, he realized with relief, this young man wasn't Xanatos. That half-circle scar wasn't on his cheek, and anyway, Xanatos had died years before.

"Is he alright?" Qui-Gon asked with concern.

[revansremnant.livejournal.com]

This time when she woke, it wasn't with the disorienting wrench of the first night, passing from wakefullness in a hallway to flat on a bed elsewhere, nor with the lingering confusion of the second night, hazy with drugs. She remembered falling to whatever chemical attack that the transformed Vincent had used, remembered everything that had led up to that point.

Someone had taken the time to clean her though, fresh clothes, a fresh bandage on the healing wound on her arm - Chusa flexed it briefly and felt the skin pull but not seperate - even her hair had Cloud's blood removed. She took the time to secret her light and the metal pole between the layers of her bed and sat for a moment, simply thinking and processing what had happened to her. How she'd responded to what she'd seen.

When her escort arrived to lead her to the dining area - the route was utterly different now - she followed quietly, still thinking. Chusa accepted the food she was presented with and sat not far away from where Cid and - a now normal looking - Vincent were located, the both of them looking haggard.

Cid had known Cloud, she recalled, called out his name. There wasn't much she could say to either man, she hadn't known Cloud, she hadn't even formed an opinion of the young man who'd been drugged other than he followed basic directions well.

She regretted his death, she'd liked to have seen if they could work together.

"Tion'ad hukaat'kama?" She said softly, looking around the room, spotting several fces she knew, including a few from last night. The telepath, the dark-eyed woman who'd been like the calm center of a torando, peace in the midst of carnage, familiar faces... and missing faces. Dying was apparantly all to easy here.

The food was better today, she discovered.

[clone-boy.livejournal.com]

Darman scanned the messhall as he entered, but it was too crowded to get a good look of the occupants; with the gentle, but firm hand of the guard in white pushing against his back and directing him, the clone found that he couldn't just walk off and pick out Azel from the crowd without turning around and risking confrontation with his escort. All he could see was a sea of heads, a dizzying array of different shades of the typical human hair colors, with an unusual spot of blue and white off in one direction.

The clone found himself being seated next to a young woman, his white-clad guard giving him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder as his charge glanced at the female warily. She didn't look like much of a threat, but he'd thought that about Azel too, and he tried disembowling him. Personally, Darman liked having his guts where they belonged - inside and intact - and he decided that for now he'd have to view all other humans as potential threats. The young clone heaved a sigh as he dug into the meal.

He didn't like this. All this business about being suspicious of everyone, not knowing who to trust, really didn't sit well with him at all. Darman almost missed just being back on the field doing what he did best - bringing it to the Seps and teaching the unfortunate tinnies and wets he came across why it was a bad, bad idea to pick a fight with a clone commando.

He was trying out the suspicious, square shaped bread when he suddenly heard a voice next to him say something - only it was a language he knew all too well. Well, smartings of it, he wasn't as versed as the Null-ARCS, but he'd always associated it with Skirata.

Mandalorian.

Blinking, open surprise on his voice, the young man turned to the woman sitting next to him. His food lay on the tray, forgotten, as he turned his full attention on his companion at the table.

"Su'cuy," Darman started, aware that his Mando'a was thick and clumsy compared to the fluent curses of his batch trainer. "You're familiar with Mando'a?"

[scaredy-crow.livejournal.com]

Crane's night had altogether been uneventful. After just a little bit of looking around the men's halls and being delayed by his compelling need to talk to the two in his own hall, he figured that Brock had gotten a head start on him, and had gone back to his room to go through the medical kit he'd received during breakfast the previous day from his ally. Walking around without a meat shield was a bad idea, no matter how anxious he was starting to get to find what he needed for his fear gas.

The bandages and syringe were certainly the most useful items Crane had found in the kit. The syringe could act as a possible weapon,though he doubted it would be very effective; but hopefully the monsters in this place would react to a little bit of pain that a prick from the syringe would bring. And the bandages would be the best thing to bandage up his ally after any fights they got into.

Of course, there was still Brock's little "problem", but Crane had given the name of that chemical some thought and was almost certain that he remembered what it was for. He probably should have been more disturbed considering that the stuff was found inside the human brain, which would account for his ally's actions, but instead Crane found it rather interesting. All he wanted to do now was have a talk with Brock on how to keep it from happening again; after all, the last thing he wanted was a repeat of two mornings ago.

This morning, though, the nurse seemed more chatty during the walk to the cafeteria, during which time Crane also discovered that the hospital had changed again. He heard, but didn't really care to retain, her talk about the new bulletin board that would be used for special messages or announcements, and was available for patient use as well as the nurses. He was glad to be able to get away from her in the cafeteria, and was also mildly surprised to find that the food seemed to be better. Edible, at the very least, and the day already seemed as though it might be mildly pleasant.

After picking out a fruit salad and a glass of water from the line, he moved to find a seat a little bit away from the other patients and started in on his breakfast quietly, hoping that he might not be interrupted this morning.

[blacksustenance.livejournal.com]

When Brock sat down, he thumped down with a grunt, ignoring the food and crossing his arms over his chest belligerently, scowling at nothing in particular, the kill last night vivid in his mind. The kill didn't bother him, but the idea of a potential waste did - he couldn't remember at all if he'd eaten his share, if he'd had even a little nibble, and his Other couldn't recall anything at all.

Judging from the way they felt (the same), Brock was tempted to say it looked like they hadn't. Worse was the idea that the other symbiote had gotten to the carcass before they had. I hope he chokes on it! Brock thought viciously.

Even if he hasn't, we still need to keep an eye on him, the Other's displeasure evident even through its silent purr. He's already drawing attention to himself - he needs to be controlled and taught better.

Christ. So babysitter and now teacher? If Brock thought it'd help much, he would've been tempted to just shoot his brains out rather than suffer the necessary humilation.

"How was your night?" Brock asked sourly, looking at Crane.

[gotahunch.livejournal.com]

Cliff stifled a yawn, unusually sleepy as he wondered into the cafeteria late. He'd stopped a couple of times to stretch or rub his eyes, and also to make sure he had the path from his room to the cafeteria down for when he needed it. Three nights wasted and not enough sleep, though it was the 'wasted' part that bothered him the most. He hadn't even gotten a chance to test his skills yet. He was starting to get used to the feeling of being slower and...weaker.

He piled food onto his plate - waffles, eggs, fruit, the whole nine yards - and carried it back to a table without really looking around for company. If they got into the sun room at all today, he was going to take a very, very long nap and dream about something that wasn't wearing a uniform with an emote on it. Mood shirts were so out of style.

He tore off a piece of syrup-slathered waffle and popped it into his mouth. Tonight, there would be a definite change of plans. He needed to do something a little foolish, and he was going to need his strength for it.

[lighthearted]

Axel seemed to have a certain fixation with dragging people away from other conversations. Sora was slightly annoyed, but in this case it was probably for the best. Those two boys looked like they had just been reunited, so leaving them alone would be the polite thing to do.

Besides, he and Axel had their own topics to discuss, and that was likely better done alone.

Still no sign of Roxas. Sora tried as hard as he could not to worry. It was still breakfast, after all. Maybe he was just sleeping in.

At least Riku was making an attempt at socializing. Sora waved at his friend, though he wasn't sure if he was noticed.

Once they reached an empty table, Sora pulled his wrist out of the redhead's grasp and faced him. "So."

[bond-off-lame.livejournal.com]

"So." Axel replied in a semi-mock tone, sitting down and setting his plate in front of him. He was so hungry now that the look of food alone made him nauseous, but with Sora's short attention span he knew he had to snap his fingers at the brunet's face every 5 seconds or else he'd lose him.

"Anyway, you want me to answer about what I think of you?" His face became expressionless, kind of like he was waiting for something to answer the question for him. But after a moment of silence nothing came by, so he opened his mouth to speak.

"Truthfully... I'm not so sure myself." And just like that he sighed and idly licked at his fork, now looking up at Sora with a curious expression.

"What was I like in the future anyway?"