damned_institute | Day 51: Breakfast

Howl awoke to the suspicion he had slept too long. It was pleasant, but ruined by the awareness of all he had neglected. Every morning, a part of him naively hoped he would wake up somewhere, anywhere else. He sighed gloomily into the pillow and ignored the sounds of activity around him for as long as possible. The misery and self-pity wrapped around him like a comforting friend. Howl turned away from the middle of the room and all of the morning acivity so that no one would see the resentful stare he was currently aiming at the wall. If he had been bold enough to allow the nurse to see the implication of his poor mood, simmering beneath the surface, at least he might have gotten a reaction. Instead, it went entirely without notice. The moment came and went, and Howl made no noteworthy impact on his situation.

When the nurse reached out to rouse him, Howl sharply rejected the well-meaning hand on his shoulder. After all, he was already awake and did not need to be told to get up like a child. Furthermore, he was hardly in any need of an escort to breakfast, but attempting to outpace the nurse to prove he knew where to go only resulted in making her mood worse. Although it made Howl feel slightly better, it hadn't accomplished the goal he had in mind. (She was quick on her feet, as it turned out.)

All he had wanted was a moment, just a second alone. It had become such a rare gem, especially when he was standing in the bustling cafeteria. The buzz of life made him feel sick.

"I'll prepare my own plate," he informed her, wearing his uniform and mussed hair like royalty. He didn't feel royal by any stretch of the imagination, but perception was reality, after all! If others believed it, then it was true. Sadly, all the nurse believed was that he was being difficult.

"That's fine, Mr. Jenkins." Her patience was admirable, but Howl observed her cracks with an apparently impassive face. He dismissed her by turning his back to the woman to wait in line.

She left Howl to (pretend to) be independent as he went to fetch his own breakfast. At first, Howl told himself that he was far to miserable and traumatized to eat, but that only lasted until he was faced with the meal. By the time he found an unoccupied table, it had chipped away at his resolve enough that he was taking an experimental bite.

[Open!]

When Claire woke up in her bed, the same as the morning before, she gasped and sat up quickly. It was the same weird feeling of not remembering falling asleep, but somehow blacking out until the morning. If the nurse hadn't already been in her room, she would have checked the back of her closet for her flashlight -- like hell was she going to pretend she was sure that Elle hadn't stolen it from her, that bitch -- and newly acquired bat. But, the nurse was there, and that meant it was breakfast time.

The intercom said something about french toast, but Claire managed to tune the rest out. Honestly, she could care less, and she was starving and shaken. On the bright side, there had been no monster attacks. But, she had run into both Elle and Sylar. It was pretty much a toss-up, thinking of which might be worse.

She was getting better at pushing these things aside and dealing with the situation at hand. But whether that was a good or a bad thing had yet to be seen. Claire thought of it as a good thing, but she was also hellbent on trying to turn herself into what her father was. What Elle was. She wasn't in a position to address the negatives of her bad decisions.

"Yeah, yeah, breakfast. I know, I'm coming," she muttered when the nurse tried hurrying her. She climbed out of bed and cast one look over at Bella. Still sleeping. Although the question burned, why she'd headed out in such a rush the previous night, Claire decided she'd find out later. After all, it was still early, and Bella had never been hard to find. So, she let the nurse guide her into the cafeteria for breakfast and the overwhelming high school pressure of finding someone to sit with set in. She hated this feeling. Hadn't having it at Costa Verde been enough? She felt like she didn't know anyone.

And the people she did know, she wasn't even touching. Her eyes fixed on Peter, but he was sitting with Elle. Did they know each other? Better question, did Peter know what she'd done? Claire scowled. She'd talk to him later -- find out why he thought it was okay to be nice to her. Figure out why he would ever sit near her. Maybe it was an immature thought process, but to Claire, it was important.

She spent as much time as she could possibly reconcile putting food on her plate, delaying the inevitability of having to find a place to sit, but there came a time when it was time to sit down. Cheerleaders weren't supposed to have this much trouble finding someplace to sit. It wasn't fair.

Being alone wouldn't be so bad, though. She'd wanted it during the movie the previous day, after all, maybe it would be nice to at least be able to eat breakfast alone to make up for that. So, she found an empty table and took a seat, picking at her breakfast despite her earlier ravenous hunger. Seeing Elle and Peter sitting together hadn't helped her appetite in the slightest.

[ for Stefan. ]

This was the tenth time Haseo's night had come to an abrupt end; before he knew it he was already starting on his eleventh day inside Landel's Institute. Regardless, this morning seemed... different. Although he had regained the ability to understand the intercoms and read the files he'd managed to steal, he had no time to himself before the nurse showed up, and therefore no chance to put it that skill to use.

In fact, his nurse almost seemed determined to make sure of that. When he awoke, there she already was, urging him oh-so-gently to get out of bed and to 'start the day off well,' whatever the hell that meant. However, her hope and attempt toward a peaceful morning just so happened to fail terribly- her looming presence only served to severely startle the Rogue instead of slowly waking him up, and he just barely managed to avoid striking out at her in his state of alarmed half-consciousness. That was probably good though, since she likely didn't want a bruised jaw, and he certainly didn't want another day spent under heavy sedation.

But although the Rogue's behavior was still noticeably disgruntled as he made his way to the cafeteria, he refused to let it bother him any more than it absolutely had to. He knew it was possible the staff was still trying to hinder or outright agitate him, but it was easier and less stressful to assume that the woman responsible for the mishap was just... even stupider than he had thought. Somehow.

In any case, the morning routine was familiar enough by now to get him through the meal line without any mishaps, and as depressing as that thought was, he was determined to ignore it as well. He didn't really know any of the two dozen or so patients already there, so as he sat down he could only hope that the nurse would feel bad enough about what she'd done that she would leave him in peace- either to be alone entirely, or long enough for someone he actually liked to find him. He wasn't very picky about it.

[ Unwittingly waiting for Maya! ]

The first thing Bella noted when she woke up was that she wasn't in pain. The second thing was that Elizabeth's ring still sat on her finger, and it sparkled even brighter in the light. As the teenager walked down the hallway following her nurse, she kept her eyes on it, causing her to almost bump into a few other patients before she finally reached the cafeteria safe and sound.

After grabbing a plate of french toast that she was going to inhale (she was hungry for once.) Bella picked an empty table and sat down reaching a hand over her shoulder to gently press against her shoulder blade. She could feel fresh bandages over the wound - which started to hurt when she pressed on it, much to her chagrin - but nothing else was amiss.

So Edward hadn't been able to pry her wound open. Needless to say, the teenager let out a sigh of relief.

After glancing around the cafeteria for a second, Bella quickly dug into her food, cutting up the toast before shoving it into her mouth.

This morning, Mele was sneaky and looked at the bulletin board as she was passing it, instead of stopping and incurring the nurse's ire. ...Not that she was afraid of the nurse or anything.

...Showers? She couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing, but at least it was better than having the nurse at her shoulder, insisting she do "something." As if to drive home the ineffectiveness of doing anything at night, since she never got anywhere.

She hadn't been able to reach the Morgue last night. After so many times, Mele was hesitant to keep trying, though she couldn't think what else to do. Explore, maybe; get a bigger feel for the entire place. Blah. Mele was used to more immediate results, not this plodding snail's pace, making progress so slow as to be nearly indiscernible. Not even when Landel deigned to taunt them, not when his taunts didn't make sense.

In the cafeteria, Mele grabbed whatever and sat near a corner, keeping an eye out for anyone interesting as she chewed.

Night ended before they had the chance to give that ring a shot, but Sam hadn't expected otherwise. The timing in this place was still as wonky and unpredictable as ever.

Though he was curious what excuse his nurse would give if he'd shown the gaudy piece of jewelery to her. Probably something totally vague, as usual. He still couldn't figure out if they were under the influence of the institute or they'd chosen to be willfully ignorant. He'd seen the way people ignored what was in front of them. It wasn't out of the question. Maybe not as likely as the first option, though.

He dutifully piled the socially acceptable amount of French toast and bacon onto his plate, neither too much nor too little, and navigated his way to an empty table. The dining hall wasn't crowded, but he still somehow ran into a minor roadblock that he could possibly squeeze through but probably shouldn't. He ended up circling around to be on the safe side.

His journal was in front of him—there was still a crapload of stuff to work through; they'd barely scratched the surface last night—but he didn't open it yet, instead keeping an eye out for either Dean or Ruby. There wasn't anything he needed to talk to either of them about, but he wanted to know especially if Ruby was gonna approach him. After their short conversation last night—

No, screw it. He wasn't going to think about this now. It wasn't that he hadn't seen her proposal coming from a mile away; if he knew anything about her, she had her own interests in mind first and that was killing Lilith. Which was the way he preferred it because he hadn't wanted someone else looking after him for his own good after Dean, he wanted someone who wouldn't care enough to get in his way. Ruby fit the profile well enough. Mostly. Sometimes a part of him wondered.

He reached over and straightened the journal with an idle flick of his finger, then reached for his fork. He was actually hungry, he had to admit. And at least here, he could take a little more time eating than the ten minute rushes they had while on the road, if even that. It probably said something that the times he tended to have the longest to sit in one place and eat was when he was on stakeout duty.

[team free will bitches]

The night ended before Erika could get as far as she wanted to go, but this new bit of information was worth the walk. As Momo and Marc had told her, patients who travel outside of the Institute's borders were somehow sedated and sent back to the Institute. The detective was sure that this had something to do with the rings that Landel had been talking about on the intercom, but as she did not possess one, she couldn't investigate that matter. Yet, anyway.

"Are you all speaking Japanese, or English?" Erika opened up with a question when her nurse came to pick her up for breakfast, though her answer was less than satisfactory. English, so said the nurse, but Erika wasn't hearing that. Well, it didn't matter, what did matter was that either the nurses were immune to the strange language scrambling effects that Landel had come up with or everything had gone back to normal.

It seemed to be the second case as Erika walked into the cafeteria, listening to the din of understandable noise that filled the air. Because she could overhear various conversations as she walked by, it was clear that whatever happened last night was temporary.

"Simply because of background noise, this reasoning is possible for Furudo Erika," The detective mumbled to herself as she collected her food and chose a relatively empty table. This was all an effort to remember exactly who she was and why she was here, because the more she thought about it...

The less like a "mystery" this place seemed to be. On the contrary, if Erika didn't know any better, this gameboard was like reading a bad science fiction novel. It was nothing like the defeated Endless Witch's gameboards, yet it was nothing like Lady Lambdadelta's boards either. Just what kind of board was this? Was she even still adhering to the rules of the mystery genre?

"Of course. I am the detective of this game. Do you think me like Battler, Landel-san, a person who gives up under a barrage of pressure? I, Furudo Erika, am not a third-rate player on this third-rate board," She huffed, biting a little vigorously into her french toast. Now she just felt offended.

[ HAY XEMNAS <3 ]

Edited 2010-08-07 02:42 (UTC)

The piercing squeal had been bad enough the first time, and Nunnally would have preferred to do without the second. The information given, however, was almost enough to distract her from it -- a drop of blood? It was both gruesome and somewhat overdramatic to require such a thing to "reset" the ring, but if that was all it required then the transportation function of the ring would be very useful indeed. That fact alone was enough to make her assume that there was something more to it, and likely something unpleasant... but she'd already given it to Lelouch, and hopefully he'd consider well before attempting to test it.

She had little time to consider it, however, given that what felt like an instant later she was opening her eyes on her room as it was during the day, her brother and Suzaku gone as though they'd never been there at all, the nurse arriving to lead her to breakfast. As Nunnally followed the woman through the halls a thought occurred to her and she reached out to touch the woman's arm lightly... but nothing happened. The false Geass didn't react at all, which was potentially an indication against physical contact as a cause; she made a mental note of it and simply smiled at the woman, murmuring an excuse and apology about losing her balance for a moment.

There was no sign of either Lelouch or Suzaku in the cafeteria that morning; she hesitated at the door a moment to make certain of it, but when she delayed too long the nurse suggested that she could go fetch some food if Nunnally wished to take a seat. Recalled to the present, the girl refused, politely but firmly, and went to get her own breakfast. She could do this for herself, and therefore she would, instead of having to depend on others.

The tray proved to be somewhat heavier than she'd expected, though, and rather than carry it through the cafeteria in search of a good place to sit Nunnally simply settled at the first empty table she'd encountered. It left her with a partially obscured view of the door, but if either Lelouch or Suzaku passed through the food line she'd be able to see them and at least verify they were still here.

[for the boy genius with a girl's name]

England didn't know why he was surprised when they got nothing done during the meeting. It wasn't as though it was an unusual occurrence. Put a bunch of nations together in a room with all of the history and bad blood between them and it was surprising that the world still existed if he was honest with himself, but he'd rather hoped that something could have come of it all since they had a common enemy and were... well, no longer quite what they had once been.

He'd been rather naive in that respect, hadn't he?

And his shoulder was still hurt. The nurse scolded him for picking at the bandage, and had fastened it up again, wrapping it tightly. It didn't matter, he'd seen the damage; the horrible scabs forming, the bruises. Fuck, and to think Russia knew about it now. That was something that he'd hoped to avoid.

And the breakfast was still unforgivably American. Really, would it kill them to offer a proper hearty English breakfast with black pudding. He'd never managed to convince America that it wasn't vile and that was half the fun. At least they had bacon and some rather decent hash browns, although the sausages were those mass produced things that didn't count as real sausages. He filled a plate with toast and bacon and glanced around, spotting only Germany and Prussia off together at this point in the morning. He wasn't expecting America to be awake for a while, and he might try and find Japan later.

He found a mercifully empty table and went to sit down, setting down the tray and starting to eat mechanically.

[For Russia!]

Mello woke with a vague sense of his ears ringing, and with what seemed like the tatters of a dream lingering in his waking mind. Something about blood-- No, not a dream. The head bastard had told them how the rings worked, or how he wanted them to think they worked. Mello could imagine him sitting there, gloating. There had to be a way to use the rings against him, but. He sat up, his shoulders sagging. That smug sadist controlled everything, even the prisoners' ability to communicate. How the hell could they fight under those conditions?

You'll fight because you have to, he told himself. The other option's lying down and surrendering to being jerked around. They can make you doubt yourself, but they can't make you do that. That whisper at the back of his mind told him they could, if they wanted. He gritted his teeth and got out of bed, ignoring it as well as he could.

He hadn't gotten anything done that he'd wanted to last night, and had got stuck in two situations he hadn't foreseen, or wanted, at all: therapy hour with Matt, and playing punching bag for a brainwashed German lunatic. His ribs still ached, in fact, and he would've known it was his own damn fault for jumping the gun, even without those bugs in his head.

Right on cue, the nurse bustled in. "Doesn't breakfast sound lovely, Michael?" she chirped.

He gave her a flat look, which as usual didn't deter her from making inane commentary on the way to the cafeteria. Mello had long since decided to treat her as so much animate furniture, white noise to background his own thoughts. As usual, there were people he meant to contact today. The problem was that he didn't know what most of them looked like. He got some French toast and sausage, and found a seat alone. A talk with L was probably overdue, but Mello didn't feel up to it at the moment. He scanned the prisoners for anyone who looked like they'd had an especially rough night, even though he wasn't sure they'd been grabbing people to torture the night before.

[for Sai!]

The covers were warm and comfortable, and for what had to be the first time in her life, Soma wriggled deeper into them at the sound of approaching footsteps. When was the last time she'd had a full night's sleep? She couldn't recall. And there was something wrong about that sentence--something--

Her eyes snapped open at the same time as the door. Sleeping. That wasn't supposed to happen. What had happened last night? Had she gone to bed instead of venturing out of doors? No--that was impossible. She couldn't have done that. And yet...

"Good morning, Maria!" sang the nurse, and Soma resisted the urge to hurl the pillow at her face. "Are you feeling better? You had a bit of a cold last night, so you went to bed early..."

Soma had already tuned her out. She was a supersoldier. She didn't get colds. That was impossible. They'd done something to her--she'd fallen asleep without wanting to--and were her friends all right? She would have to check the bulletin board.

She pulled on her clothes and followed her nurse to the cafeteria, refusing to respond to the woman's idle chatter. A bowl of fruit and some juice would do her good. Then she could find out just what had happened last night.

His made a foolhardy choice in anyone's eyes. You did not sleep in the presence of a danger even for a minute's time, especially when the last exchange still coursed through your nerves at every wrong movement. Regardless, it remained, and when he heard the soft click of the intercom system, Nigredo could only attribute his continued existence as a statistic. He could die. So, too, could Sync. Last night was just not the night for either.

Good, then, that he at least managed some rest.

Nigredo stretched his stiff limbs, wincing in annoyance at the tiny cracks forming beneath the skin of his injured hand. It would be weeks--months, even--before the boy would ever use the left again. The reason hardly bothered him by now. No, by now, it was a matter of efficacy. The list of activities was lacking thanks to a dead limb, and without another to assist, the most useful venture Nigredo could undertake was the sedentary.

No better than an infant. The words from before had become a curse. What would his past self say if he had known the future's condition? Nigredo sighed at the prospect and rose from the bed.

Morning preparations proved minimal, and by the time the nurse arrived, Nigredo stood waiting with bated breath. The walk to the cafeteria could be deemed just as contained: the child appeared detached, uninterested. Barely touching vitality. He was seated with a tray in a far corner of the room, where he simply stared into the distance and thought of nothing in particular.

[Free]

For a minute there, Indy kept his eyes closed and entertained the small hope that what had happened last night had been a terrible dream born of...Indy groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes. He didn't even want to think where a dream like that would've come from.

Of course it didn't matter, because as soon as he finally gave in and cracked one eyelid open (he was immediately tempted to shut it again; he felt like he was hungover) he knew it hadn't been a dream. The girl with the nightcap had broken every law of physics Indy'd ever heard of and turned Pilgrim and Peter into girls. And--he remembered belatedly with a wince as he sat up--he'd been hit with those light beams of hers. His left arm was bandaged around the bicep. Indy moved it gingerly and found that it was in tolerable shape. Felt like a minor gunshot wound, he thought; he'd been through worse.

He got up and let the nurse lead him to the cafeteria, where he looked around for anyone who'd been with the group last night. Aside from the absurdity of what had happened, Indy was frustrated at their lack of progress. It took a lot of coordination to get seven people in the same place at the same time, and to get held up was irritating. He hoped the other group had managed to get farther.

None of them seemed to be around yet, so he got a tray of French toast and bacon and found a seat by himself to see who found him.

[KIRK}

The night before was a waste in every sense of the word. For all intents and purposes, Ange should have taken to frustration the moment she awoke. Reasons were good and plenty, after all. Sleeping in while the whole world turned was a mediocre way of fulfilling her task. One does not find the truth while closing their eyes.

But that-- Wasn't that pointless? She had no truth to find here, no Rokkenjima and family murder to unearth. She now resided, according to patients and staff alike, in a completely separate sphere of existence. With a dead brother lingering in the outskirts, righteous anger came with great difficulty. The young woman simply couldn't bring herself to care.

Although, perhaps that had more to do with temporary states...

She sat at an empty table, her expression barely tracing disgruntled. The fork in her hand shifted in a circular motion as blue eyes followed the movements, as though utensils were a spectacle to be treasured. In truth, Ange didn't feel much like eating; syrup and sweetness were far too unnecessary for this time of day.

[WAIFUUUU]

_[free~]

Daytime again. Phew! That wasted situation was over and done with. Relatively unsalvageable the moment they’d been cornered by an ambush, Yomi hadn’t held much hope after the giant and the beast had skidded into the cafeteria, bloodied and unable to understand her.

There had been only three options then: either she finished what their opponent had started, continued alone, or the end of night interrupted progress. In a politically-saavy sense, that the third option had made the decision for her meant club relations would be smoother than the alternatives.

Probably.

Having filed away the info. on the ring, Yomi had risen to consciousness with barely a pause, and was now ready to take a seat amidst the growing cafeteria crowd, a bagel and water in hand. Her composure--the hot, hot whisper of all things spiteful hidden behind long lashes--was back in place, but Yomi wasn’t up for playing nicely with some well-meaning breakfast partner. Not then. So she secluded herself, taking a seat out of the way where one would intentionally have to approach if they wanted to rub elbows with her.

Over there, though, was something interesting happening between some prisoners. Teresa was making friends with someone Yomi wasn’t familiar with--and the sight only reminded her of the slitted, gold eyes and the spiritual pressure of the night before.

"That friend of yours is going to DIE for that!"

Sechs woke with a start. He was back in his bed, covered with the usual extra blankets and clothed in the same despicable uniform. It was no longer dark, and for a dizzying moment, Sechs confusedly looked over his pillow to find the source of the angry voice. That couldn't have been his new roommate... It sounded more like...

"He's going to DIE in your OWN HANDS!" the drug furiously hissed, its voice sounding almost alien in its monstrous rage, "He can't help you forever--"

"Shut up."

The terrible voice went quiet from Sechs' drowsy demand, but not without leaving a spark of pain to jolt him out of bed. Grunting, Sechs pulled himself out of the covers and gingerly rubbed at his sore back. Geeze, what the heck was that about?!

It didn't take long before last night's events rapidly trickled into his head. He was so close to dying last night, but Kibitoshin's ki energy saved him, sending the drug to cower in the deep tissues of Sechs' spine. Kibitoshin's efforts didn't destroy the poison, but it knocked its control off its host. No wonder the dark psyche was so pissed off! That could only have meant one thing:

He had found one of the drug's weaknesses.

Despite having nearly been suffocated to death and becoming all distracted by the language swap cast by Landel, Sechs felt the night before hadn't been a total waste. Sure, he didn't get to have any fights, and the question about whether he was truly visited by his Original the day before was still unanswered; but just knowing that there was a chance of fighting back his ailment, even if it were just temporary, gave Sechs the vigor needed to face the day with a (slightly) straighter posture as he entered the cafeteria.

Eager to fill his empty stomach, Sechs was swift to grab as many sausages and bacon as the nurses allowed him, even catering to their demands that he have at least one slice of French toast, but that piece was promptly smothered by all the meat Sechs gathered. Once having picked a spot to sit, Sechs' concerns over the drug's death threats faded away as most of his brain power went into eating, making a big mess of himself as he attacked his meal.

After the eighth release seal, Gaara was accepting that this was not merely an illusion. The fact of the shift between night and day was more of a shock. Minato had spoke of differences but this was more severe than a simple change of pace. In between one second and the next, he was lying on his back in the same room he had found himself in before. If not a genjutsu, it was something else near to that.

The apparent change of time kept some things the same. The feel of chakra muted and restrained, both his and the Shukaku's. It was off-balancing, and Gaara felt the prickle of nervousness from the night before returning. Even the threat of powerlessness was a heavy motivator. His mind moved to test possibilities only to fall short. As with last night--he had far too many questions and little to no answers. The room he found himself in gave nothing away. A few items and uniformed clothes. He was fingering the pens when the knock came at the door--something the nurse should have been thankful for. If she had came barging in, he would have reacted, muted chakra or no.

As it was, he stared at her hostilely, and then past her at the orderly watching him. "There's no need to worry," the woman said, falsely cheerful. From the reaction, it wasn't Gaara who was worried. "I was just going to take you to breakfast. You're hungry, aren't you?" She smiled, the expression plastic. There was too much, of irritation and habits pressing forward, to completely throw out the idea of attacking. To move past this pair and seek out his own path. As if the orderly saw the option move through his eyes, the man shifted to reveal two more large men behind him. At least they had studied well enough. To understand that Gaara was a threat despite apparent weaknesses. He stood there as minutes ticked carefully by, weighing the situation. Eventually he moved forward, eying each carefully.

If Minato had been here for a time, then it could be reasoned that Gaara would do well to attempt to learn more about his surroundings. If another opportunity came again, he could take it. For now, he moved to the large room offered, where a plethora of people were seated at tables with more coming in. He himself sat at one, watching the tray placed in front of him. He was not hungry. And he wouldn't so easily trust anything given to him.

[for Naruto]

Kibitoshin had to admit, as far as the Head Doctor’s evil mind-and-body-altering schemes went, last night’s hadn’t been all that bad. Admittedly, there had been Sechs’… Sechs’ episode, but that didn’t count. The thing with the languages did. And they’d both handled it pretty well, all things considered! They hadn’t understood a word the other said, of course, but they hadn’t ended up tearing their hair out in frustration. Well, not very much of it. And they’d managed to communicate, too! Obviously their friendship transcended words!

… or maybe they were both far better at miming then they had any right to be. Either one worked fine.

Anyway, between the good and the bad, he’d been too busy worrying or thinking for his mind to even start to wander back to the anxiousness and nail-biting of the day before. In fact, it might even have made him feel just that tiny bit better, even in the cold light of yet another morning in captivity. There was a way for him to make a mark; he just had to look for it a little harder and keep smiling, even when it hurt.

He was good at that.

Gathering his breakfast together, he found himself his usual seat by the door so that he could count the people who came in. This morning he needed to look out for... Sechs, Haseo, Leon, their friends, Fai and Franziska. And the less he thought about how rapidly that list was shrinking, the better.

Ilia entered the cafeteria and immediately made for a table full of nurses. If this one wasn’t going to help her, then she needed confront someone else in authority. “Excuse me, but could you tell me—“

“Miss Curtis!” The nurse who had brought her was at her side, taking her arm and speaking with that same condescending tone. “You mustn’t bother the other staff while they’re chatting. It’s time for breakfast now. Don’t you want to eat?”

“But I—“

“Elaine, why don’t you save the big questions for your therapist, okay? Here, look! We have French toast today!”

Ilia’s frown deepened. She was normally so good dealing with people, but this woman refused to listen. She seemed rather insistent that Ilia have breakfast. Maybe if she took care of that first, then they could get down to business sorting out this mistake. She allowed the woman to make her a plate and select a seat for her.

Ilia sat, but she stubbornly refused to eat. She didn't have time for this.

And just like that, badda-boom (he wished), day again. At least he'd gotten a chance to see Renamon, and figure some things out about what had happened two nights ago. Someone still needed to get a knock on the head for that one, but that could wait.

So could food, if the nurse's talking on and on was any way to tell. "Yeah, yeah, tellin' me about won't make it happen, let's go!" Sheesh, he could hardly tell why the nurses were there at all, besides waiting around for a fight to start so they could jab you full of needles.

He got himself a big tray of food ("As a matter of fact, yeah I'm gonna eat all 'a that, so lay off! Yeesh!") and plonked it down on the closest available table. Apart from the nurse, this was looking like a pretty decent day.

[KAAAAAAAAAAY~♥]

After a night of rest, Momo had come to a decision. She made piece with herself, with her course of action, and allowed her nurse to usher her out of the room. She took a moment to look the board over, noting Sora's attempts to rekindle Arts & Crafts. He would need luck, and so she wished him some.

In the cafeteria, the shinigami gathered food and sat down. From her seat on the side, her gaze traveled to Erika. She would do. As young as the detective seemed, there was something more to her, something ruthless. Momo needed that ruthlessness.

But she also needed more. Two more, to be exact.

[free]

Before any more of the mines could be explored, the intercom once more blared to life. As if confirming Tenzen's own words, the head doctor's speech sounded little more than random incomprehensible gibberish. Another shriek, followed by the first interesting thing Yakushiji Tenzen had heard that night. These shrieks were obviously connected to these changes in tongues, because Tenzen found himself being able to understand the first remotely interesting thing he had heard tonight.

Hnn. The workings of this ring seemed ridiculously simple. These 'restrictions' he spoke of, however...what were they?

Morning came again, and along with it the infuriating behavior of these nurses. After collecting a salad and a glass of water, Tenzen took one of the more secluded seats.

[Anise~]

Normally, spending the whole day and night in his room would've been filed away as an utter waste of time. There could hardly be made any progress when you'd remain in something that was practically a humanized cave no matter what fancy names they chose to attach to it. But Scar had to admit; he had needed the rest. Everything had left him so very tired and worn out, that he didn't even feel the energy to deal with anything. So he had rested.

Another morning came, and Scar was ushered to breakfast once more. Before he knew it, he was seated an empty seat with a filled plate of various choices of unwanted food ("You should eat more fruit, Mr. Irons!"). A glare to the nurse's back did little to improve his meal for this morning, however. A sigh, before he pointedly ignored the apple and leaves just to spite the nurse and focused upon the task of eating this so-called French Toast. Starving himself - even unintentionally - wasn't going to help matters at all. So he'd have to try and eat.

If anything, it provided a distraction from circumstances a mere rest couldn't quite fix.

[Son Goku!]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/956874.html?thread=71605194#t71605194).]

The world outside the room presented itself as equally anomalous. This facility Van had supposedly placed her in appeared more sterile than what could be considered healthy; however, she could not find any medical equipment. She also could not detect any patient who held the obvious signs of disease and decay. If anything, everyone seemed relatively normal, though a significant number bore some type of injury.

Anyone would have missed the signs. Tear, on the other hand, simply grew suspicious. Wherever her brother had deemed appropriate, it was not the type of facility she would associate with the ill.

She kept the woman walking ahead in her peripheral as attention slid over these details. Although she had agreed to keep her questions until the end of breakfast, there was now something the soldier had to know. It would do more harm to wait. "May I ask a question?" she threw out, voice even. "The name of this place--what is it?"

"Landel's Institute," the other returned. "We are a mental health facility."

This put a brief halt to her steps, the words spilling out before Tear had a chance to think. "Wait." A mental health facility? That couldn't be right--not by any stretch of the imagination. And still, she could see the possibility. Van had committed worse. Van had... But that didn't make it any less unbelievable! "My brother put me in an asylum?"

"Miss Roe, please." The woman paused to throw the younger an incredulous stare. "Your brother only wants the best for your health. Let's save the questions for after breakfast. So if you will..." She again waved her hand forward.

The reprimand in the tone was obvious. To her own displeasure, Tear relented, realizing simultaneously that the effort was futile. She had also promised: after breakfast. She could use the time to collect her thoughts until then. "All right." A sigh. "But I expect some answers afterward."

"Of course."

They arrived in the cafeteria soon after, where Tear was given a brief set of instructions on meal times. Her nurse (or what the woman introduced herself as) then left her to her own device, allowing the Melodist to gather a meager tray for consumption. Not that she had actual plans to eat, but chances were high that she would be left alone if she had some food with her. After a brief survey of the area, she took a seat at an empty table.

[Luke. ♥]

There likely would never have been a good time for the night to end, but did it really have to end then? For a few minutes Yukito kept his eyes closed, refusing to open them and see the lights overhead; it was a futile effort, he knew, but he hadn't wanted to leave the night behind. To leave Touya behind like that. But still, he couldn't deny the truth that the light was more than that shed by the dim flashlights, and he felt only cool, scratchy sheets around him rather than comforting warmth. At the sound of the nurse rattling the doorknob preparatory to entering he finally sighed and fumbled for his glasses (noting vaguely as he did that his roommate had already left; he'd halfway wondered if the man was going to sleep until he disappeared like Ken had, but this was a good sign, wasn't it?), managing a polite smile for the nurse.

At least there was always breakfast to cheer him up, right? And Yue, though still quiet, wasn't nearly as unhappy as he had been lately -- it wasn't as though he had suddenly become happy or anything, but at least he wasn't constantly dwelling upon old grief. The steady pull of his emotions had been a heavy burden that Yukito hadn't really noticed until it was gone, and now he was immensely relieved. It was a good morning, really. Even if he was still here... and even if Touya hadn't arrived in the cafeteria yet.

Yukito hesitated briefly, glancing around the cafeteria with heavily-laden tray in hand as he looked for a familiar face, but those he recognized were already occupied. Well. Perhaps someone would arrive soon. He gave a mental shrug and moved to an empty table, starting in on his food with good appetite.

[free as a bird~]

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