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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Figured the night would end just as something interesting was happening. He'd have to remember to try climbing the wall on his own later, even if he wasn't quite sure how to manage it as a human.

For now, Ratchet would just have to get through another day of organic irritation. He picked disconsolately at his usual plant chunks, glancing over at the handwritten notes belonging to the human across from him. At least someone seemed to be making a bit of progress. How nice.

Just when she thought she'd get a quiet meal, some old guy had to come interrupt. At least he was quiet. Picking at his fruit like a little kid or something though. She was almost convinced that once a person hit about twenty five, there was some internal switch that made them act all weird and... adult-like. But adults always had weird quirks. Gambling too much. Reading porn all the time. Shooting bones out your knuckles and attacking teenagers outside on the field.

"Good morning," he said politely, gathering a few of the more private notes, but leaving the less obvious ones out. If he wanted to glance over them, she supposed she didn't care, but a girl had to have some secrets. Besides, she'd have to keep a close watch anyway, just in case any of the nurses asked about it. Not that they would. Or did. They just figured it was the crazy ramblings of another psychotic patient. Of course.

"I'm Sakura."

Carefully sorting out all the spherical plant chunks, Ratchet piled them up on one side of the bowl. The farther they were from the safe plant chunks, the better. Once everything was segregated to his liking, he started nibbling at one of the orange chunks. He was starting to get used to the orange ones.

He watched with mild interest as the girl moved a few of her notes out of view. Well, that was her business, and they probably weren't anything terribly important to him. "I don't see what's so slagging good about it," he grumbled. He scowled as one of the spheroids rolled out of its designated pile and back into the rest of the plant chunks. "Name's Ratchet." Picking out the offending bit of fruit, he set it on the tray where it couldn't make any more trouble.

Seriously the old guy was acting like a little kid. Separating out the foods he liked from those he didn't, grumbling to himself... being a scowling grump...

"Er... right, well. Ratchet-san it's... nice to meet you, at least," she tried, wondering why someone would pick a person at random just to start venting their frustrations.

"But considering no one is being attacked by monsters, incapable of communicating, or dying in a bloody heap, I'd say it's a pretty decent morning," she adding, raising an eyebrow, almost as if daring him to challenge her logic. "Wouldn't you say?"

For some reason, the girl couldn't quite say his name right, but he wasn't in the mood to split wires so early in the day. "I doubt that, but it's well-mannered of you to say so." Of course, the only other young human Ratchet was really familiar with acted like she was raised by turbowolves, so naturally this Sakura girl seemed polite by comparison.

Never one to back down from saying exactly what was on his processor, Ratchet answered her raised eyebrow with one of his own. "Considering I'm trapped in a quivering mess of organic cells, forcing smaller messes of organic cells down my intake three times a solar cycle in an effort to stay somewhat functional, I'd say it's a slagging miserable morning."

Of course it was well-mannered of her. She'd intended just that, even if she hadn't meant it completely. Any pretense of a friendly smile was slowly starting to fade the more the old man talked. So much whining!

So he was one of those that came from some other world, some kind of non-human thing? Just the way he talked about "organic cells" and all the rest, it was hard not to be reminded of Sasori and his own disdain for flesh and pretty much anything that wasn't made up of synthetic parts. There was a creepy thought. Just what she liked when she was trying to stomach her breakfast.

"Huh. That's too bad," she managed, though it was really hard to be sympathetic. "What were you stuck in before? You had to have been a little bit organic, didn't you? Otherwise how would you be alive?" Even Sasori had a heart, shrunken and withered as it was. Every other piece of him was metal, wood, clay, and whatever else he used to make himself look real.

Ratchet could feel his face grow warmer. He'd heard the insinuation that robots weren't truly alive on Earth, and it had seemed nonsensical then. Now it was starting to get downright offensive. "I'm Cybertronian, and no, there wasn't a single organic molecule in my frame. I know it's a scary concept for you organics to wrap your squishy minds around," he went on, "but there's nothing magical about carbon. Lots of people get by just fine without it."

Great. Now she'd ticked him off. It wasn't like she didn't believe that plants or animals or other things that were organically proven to be living were... well... alive. But he was asking her to concede that puppet people were too. She was not about to argue the fact that years of medical research and study taught her otherwise, but maybe it was possible what with forbidden techniques and she SO did not want to be having this argument first thing in the morning.

"Fiiine," she replied, drawing the sound out. "Whatever you were though, you're squishy now," she persisted, "and since I'm a medic, I'd say I have the advantage of being the expert in that department at least. So as sorry as I am you're stuck with fleshy organs and bones and carbon, that's all we've got where I'm from, ok?!"

Day 51: Breakfast

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hdu Ratchet is the very pinnacle of maturity

Oh yes. So mature. :|

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