damned_institute | Nightshift 23 - Stairs Near Lobby 1

[Coming in from here]

So far so good.

The stairs to the second floor should be around here. So far they hadn't run into any of the locals here, which was both a good and bad thing: they didn't have to expend needless energy defending themselves, but, on the other hand, that also meant no food. Brock sighed, searching the walls for the door to the stairs, and tried to not focus on the fact that he was not only starving again for human food (apparently they were still recovering from last night), but he was also getting pretty hungry for some of the fresh, rather socially inacceptable meat that had a habit of walking on two legs.

It would be the first time that he could remember that he'd fed when he wasn't Venom. While it probably wasn't a far stretch to assume that the symbiote took his body on joyrides when he was asleep or unconscious, there still remained the fact that he didn't recall any incident where he'd killed with his bare hands, fed as Eddie Brock only.

The mental image of himself crouched over a corpse and going for the head was a bit nauseating, actually and he had to hurriedly focus on the walls before him, rearing up in the darkness and grainy in their eyes. Being back to near-human apparently made him somewhat squeamish again.

It's just a need like normal eating, Brock thought, echoing the reassurances of his Other. It's perfectly okay. We have as much a right to exist as everyone else.

The blond paused before the stairs, slightly comforted by this, and started up them, careful to watch his feet and feeling along the rails with one hand. Hopefully the Chapel was empty when they got there; Brock was all for feeding outside it, but it seemed wrong to profane that kind of ground with even their very honest needs. It just didn't feel right to pull that kind of shit in a holy place (while it didn't have any religious markers, Brock still felt it was special and deserved the proper respect).

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Having steered as far away from the chapel as physically possible when given the choice, Mal had no idea where it was located. Somewhere upstairs was all he knew, and that wasn't much help. They had other goals in mind, anyway, and even if they had decided to go searching for the place (he didn't want to think about what sort of monster would be lurking there), there was a good chance another group of patients would have gotten there first.

He doubted there would be any sharing of the prize, either. Mal knew he would have wanted to keep the loot to himself. Sharing hadn't gotten him very far in life.

It was a short walk from their block to the stairs, and he stopped as they got closer to it. "Here, right?" He had no idea where else Javert would have meant, but best to make sure. He wouldn't want to be waiting for someone who would never show up because of a misunderstanding.

What was odd was the lack of other patients - he figured everyone would be rushing up the stairs to get to the chapel. Well, the lack of crowds was probably for the best.

Javert paused to flip open his journal and check the map he'd copied from the others that afternoon. A pause while he glanced from the map to his surroundings, then he snapped the journal shut and nodded.

"This should be it," he agreed. He settled back and leaned against the wall, as was his habit, waiting for Faust to arrive.

Still, he couldn't entirely ignore the radio's cryptic message. "The messages coming from this," he began, holding up the radio. "Are they trustworthy? The man behind them is clearly against the head doctor, but is he really trying to help the patients?"

While Mal would have normally leaned against the wall himself, it would have been strange for both of them to do it, so he stayed where he was. Javert had just looked at a map, had he? It might be in his best interest to copy that off of his roommate at some point.

If he could swallow his pride long enough to ask.

It didn't matter at the moment, though. He instead focused on the man's question, giving a small shrug as a response. "Not rightly sure. Some think we should listen to him, others think he's just as bad as the head doc. Haven't been around long enough to judge for myself, but it's not like we've got any other clues to go by."

He glanced around again, searching for any people emerging from the darkness. He hated how hard it was to see. "So, what's this friend of yours look like?"

Javert smirked slightly. 'Friend' was an odd way of putting it. He was certainly on fairly good terms with the man, but was Faust a friend? Javert had had little use for them in Paris; he doubted he would have any use for them here. Allies, perhaps, but friends?

At any rate, it was no good debating the matter. "He has blond hair, blue eyes, dark circles under them. About ten centimeters taller than I am - " then, quickly realizing that an entirely different system of measurement might exist in the future, he demonstrated the height difference with his hands. "Rather skinny as well. He has black tattoos of some sort around his neck."

The word hadn't put much thought into the word when he'd used it. Mal doubted that his roommate and this other man were friends, but did the term really matter at this point? There was no reason to get hung up on those details. Then again, if someone had implied that he was friends with someone he didn't consider a friend, he probably would have been upset.

While Mal could guess as far as centimeters, he was more familiar with inches. That was what happened when the United States (and China) ruled over the whole 'verse. Therefore, the visual was appreciated. "All right..." He turned back to watch the hallway, anticipating where the man would be coming from. How much longer were they going to have to wait?

The presence that approached, however, was hardly that of the man described. Having resigned herself to finding Mal for the evening, Inara was pleasantly surprised to have managed to stumble upon him so quickly, and with company she didn't recognize to boot. The Companion approached, not attempting to silence her footsteps or sneak up on the Captain. She very nearly made a comment about how nice it was to see him making friends but refrained. Instead she spoke up, very well realizing that this was the first they'd spoken since their brief correspondence via those 'anonymous' letters on the bulletin board.

"Mal," she began in a quiet but audible tone. "I'm glad I actually managed to find you." Genuine words were followed with silence as she let her eyes linger perhaps a moment too long, wondering if he would... No, there was someone around. It would have to be strictly business for now. "I see you're making friends." And she'd ended up saying it anyway.

Javert glanced briefly at the newcomer; then, having established that said newcomer was not the one he was looking for, paid little more attention to her. It seemed she knew Reynolds - perhaps she was one of the crew he had mentioned earlier. At any rate, she wasn't Faust, and right now his main goal was meeting up with the doctor and finding the pharmacy. Everything else was merely a distraction.

He remained silent; Mal, no doubt, had more to say to her than he himself did.

The moment he heard her footsteps, he knew who it was. There was a certain way she walked - something she must have learned in whore school. Mal turned to face her just as she spoke up, and was taken aback by her honestly.

Unlike Inara, he didn't realize that the last time they'd had contact, it had been through anonymous, knowing messages written to each other on the bulletin board. That was probably for the best, seeing as it would have made things much more awkward for him.

"My roommate," he said, indicating his "friend." "Inara, this is Javert. Javert, Inara." There, nice and simple and they didn't have to waste time with those pleasantries Inara liked so much.

Actually, now that he thought of it, these two would probably get along. That bothered him for some reason.

The captain blinked when his eye caught on a patient who looked rather similar to the description he'd been given. "Hey," he said, tone somewhat demanding as he pointed the man out to Javert, "that your guy?"

The gentleman in question seemed a bit standoffish, curt and businesslike even based upon his posture alone. Inara wondered again if she was interrupting something but decided not to make a point of it. Mal alone would make it clear to her if her presence was not needed.

Regardless, the dark-haired woman offered a smile to the other man. Brief pleasantries were expected of her, or perhaps they were simply habit.

"A pleasure, sir." There wasn't time for flowery words or long-winded introductions. It appeared the two men already had a goal set, and she looked over her should to eye up the man he was pointing out. "You have a plan for this evening, then?" The question was directed more to Mal than Javert, but she supposed it applied to them both.

"Likewise," said Javert briefly. Inara seemed a pleasant enough woman, he supposed, but he doubted her ability to defend herself. Three was enough for a trip to the second floor; Javert himself had never been keen on working with others, unless the others in question were under his command.

He glanced across the hall at Mal's question. "It is indeed. Shall we be off?" Then, to Inara as he turned to head over to Faust, "If you'll excuse me, Madame."

Nightshift 23 - Stairs Near Lobby 1

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