damned_institute | Day 51: Breakfast

Yuffie Kisaragi, indomitable bouncing ball of sunshine and unfathomable ebullience, was tired. It'd been a long night full of gibberish and getting nowhere fast.

"Can't I—"

Plucky, who had been busily loading a plate full of French toast and bacon, tittered. "I'm afraid not, Hanna, darling. A chat over a nice, hearty breakfast would do you a world of good, don't you think?"

"Aaaaactually—"

"Come on, let's find you a seat. Plenty to choose from this morning!"

For a long moment, Yuffie seriously considered doing something—anything—to act out. Punch her nurse, rub jam in an orderly's face, climb a wall and hang off the ceiling, jump on a table and parody Loveless… A ruckus like that would definitely jolt her back into gear, right? Sedation aside. And it'd turn Plucky's good day right on its head, which was always a bonus worth shooting for.

But, by the time she'd reached a decision—and it was an epic decision, a really awesome one; everybody'd appreciate the genius, she was sure—she was already alone. Her breakfast tray had been set down neatly by the nurse, who had left with an infuriatingly winsome smile.

"Wow," Yuffie muttered. Shaking her head, she picked a chair at random and threw herself into it. She kicked back, one arm slung across her eyes, to wait. For what, she wasn't totally sure. Some moron to decide that she looked like good company? That was how it usually went.

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Now that the matter was settled, there were other conversation topics to distract HK thoroughly from how he had just won. Also, he was going to ignore the commentary about what had happened with regards to Lockdown, because he at least had the sense to know that any conversation along those lines was doomed to fall out of the sky like the Ebon Hawk hitting the disruptor field over Lehon. "Statement: Yes, he is still here, as far as I am aware. I hope he continues to be here, because I gave him one of my weapons two nights ago. I would not want him or my ax to mysteriously disappear." HK really didn't want to admit it, but since Lugnut had made him a Decepticon, it was the first time he'd felt remotely at home here. Well, besides when he was killing things, that always made him feel at home.

"Answer: Apparently he did not mind enough to hit me over the head when I approached him, admittedly done suddenly and without warning. We... didn't accomplish much of anything, but we couldn't communicate what goal we might be working towards by the time we started to move." Maybe he shouldn't have gotten so caught up in arguing with the Autobot. The only problem was that it was almost precisely like poking the geriatric Jedi, but with less risk of having something 'amusing' happen to him as a result.

There was a scary thought, now that he had a moment to think about it in its entirety. Lugnut-and-HK, working side by side to plough through a vast assortment of nurse-, Autobot- (if Lugnut got a little ahead of himself) and zombie-shaped creatures with a glorious array of makeshift weaponry: two bloodthirsty psychopaths on an Institute-wide rampage. It would've been almost touching, if it didn't fill him with a deep, unshakable feeling of dread. Like he trusted either of them alone for a second. "Yeah? Well, tell him I'm watching him next time you talk."

Oh, well. Maybe Ratchet could keep them in control a little- knock their heads together when they stepped out of line. Mostly, he was just relieved that the guy seemed to actually be sticking to their little agreement. Not that he'd have blamed him for straying, of course... Depth Charge sighed, folding his arms. "So you just snuck up on him like a creep? Fantastic. Nice to see relations at such a high. Did you even tell him you were a 'con?"

"Acknowledgment: I will do so," HK replied, "And I would like to note that if you attempt to do so at night, I will be able to find you easily." He probably shouldn't have given that away, but deterring any attempt to sneak up on Lugnut or himself was probably better than finding out the pointy way whether he was in fact paying attention to his surroundings or not.

"Protestation: I most certainly did not. I simply move quietly, because I am an assassin model. It is as much a part of me as making bad life choices involving meatbags seems to be with you." He wasn't very proud of that one, but he couldn't resist it.

Blammo! Straight between the optics. Depth Charge made a face. "Right, right, you couldn't help it- just like you can't help being a pain in the fender," he fired back. "And, by the by, that was a cheap shot." He sighed deeply again and rubbed at his temple. Why did it feel like he was still fighting a war every time he spoke to these guys?

Eventually, he gave HK a long, hard, don't-even-think-sarcastically-because-I'll-know stare. "Look. All I'm asking is that you play nice. That really so much to ask? Even Lugnut can do it when he feels like it, for Primus' sake. And Ratchet." He paused. "You saying Ratchet stuck with you even though he knew you were with the 'cons?"

"Affirmative: Yes, precisely like that," HK stated, "And I acknowledge that I could have done better, but it was just such an easy target, figuratively jumping up and down, waving its arms and screeching 'Take a shot! Take a shot!'"

HK gave back a mostly blank stare, tinged with a slight edge of why-are-we-staring-at-each-other-this-is-uncomfortable perplexity. "Statement: I am. I am more or less acting the same way as the recent period in which I was a part of a team partially composed of Jedi, albeit with some modifications due to the incalculable, lurking psychological damage caused by suddenly finding myself a meatbag." He'd been prone to (deniable!) lippy-ness when he was on the Ebon Hawk, too.

"Affirmative: He already knew prior to last night." HK was not going to elaborate on this one at least, because elaboration would involve mentioning the shower shift, the approach of which was bringing on a sense of impending doom for the assassin.

Day 51: Breakfast

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