Day 52: Game Room

[full-score.livejournal.com]

Lunch had taken his mind from his worries, if only for a few minutes. But after the intercom sounded and the nurses began leading patients onto the next activity, one look at the bulletin board brought everything back in full force. No replies from Ashton, Dias or Dad. By now Claude felt like he was practically counting down until the end of the day, when he was going to have to finally grapple with the real possibility that most of his friends from before Landel's, as well as his own father, had fallen victim to the institute.

And now he was going to have to deal with his mother being here on top of that. It didn't seem like a coincidence that she'd show up right when his father's whereabouts were so up in the air. But what did it mean? Why couldn't Landel leave his family out of this?

Normally, the announcement about new video games would have made him perk up, but his eyebrows only knit together with concern as his nurse led him into the game room. That didn't seem to stop her from trying to get him to unwind, though.

"Oh, come now, Thomas, you've worn that expression for most of the day!" she told him with a frown. "Why don't you have a bit of fun now that your eyes are all better? I'm sure you could use it."

The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his "sleep studies", he darkly thought to himself. But before he could protest, his nurse had sat him down in front of one of the television screens. There was an old gaming console, one Claude had never seen before, and he glanced at her with a confused expression. "Go on," she encouraged as she placed one of the controllers in his hands. "I know how much you enjoy these kinds of things. Someone will come play with you soon, too, I'm sure. Doesn't that sound nice?"

He didn't have time to answer her, because she'd soon bustled off to tend to some of the other patients. Claude watched her leave with a sigh. He realized the daytime staff meant well, which made knowing what they turned into at night even worse to think about. But now he was just being negative for the sake of it, wasn't he?

Taking in a small breath, he reached over to the console and turned it on. As long as he was waiting for some kind of answer from the bulletin, there probably wasn't much he could do except pass the time. Claude watched the title screen appear on the television, his expression growing more curious in spite of himself. Super Mario Bros....

[For Prussia!]

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[bravados.livejournal.com]

If bringing up his well-being before coming here wasn't a hint of sorts, Masaomi wasn't sure what would be. Keeping his eyes fixed on the man in front of him, he wondered briefly what Izaya didn't know about his reconvening with the Yellow Scarves. It had crossed his mind the past few days that Izaya might know something about the Slasher and Black Rider, or what tipped off the Slasher into spying on the Scarves in the first place. It occurred to him that Izaya might know who else from their side of Tokyo was stuck here too. And yeah, it'd just be the height of stupidity for anyone who knew anything about Ikebukuro to assume the informant didn't have a stash of secrets to share about it.

Still, Izaya was no Kadota, and anything Masaomi wanted to learn from him would have to be on a last resort basis. This time it'd be because he was running out of time, losing what strained control he had over the situation he'd left behind at home — if he already hadn't, by now. It wasn't an issue here, unless more Yellow Scarves, Dollars, Slashers — Blue Squares — or any factions within the gangs showed up. But it'd be a problem there, soon, if things escalated while he was away.

"...It's been a couple nights," he finally said, uncomfortable with the idea that it could be used against him. He hadn't been the new kid since moving from Saitama... and the transition wasn't a time he could really imagine himself getting nostalgic over. "Has it been much longer for you?"

[propheteer]

"No, not much longer," was Izaya's response, leaving just how much longer up to interpretation. If Masaomi had been here a couple of nights already (assuming he was telling the truth in that), then they must have arrived around the same time—there was no way of telling who had been brought there first in that case, and so Izaya would happily assume the senior role.

How strange, though, that four involved in the conflict brewing in Ikebukuro were all here, brought together in so short a time—Izaya himself, then Kida, then Shizuo, then the courier... Izaya could have done without Shizuo's presence; he was a nuisance that would be hard for their jailors to keep under any kind of control, even if they had proved quite effective against him that morning.

He gave a short sigh. "If you've already been here for a little while, then I guess there's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know," he said. "Such a pity! ...But I'd be happy to offer advice all the same. My services are at your disposal whenever you need me."

It was partly a bluff: Izaya was not yet in a position where he could comfortably make conclusions and predictions like he could from his office in Shinjuku, but he didn't expect Masaomi to take him up on the offer, either. Not yet, at least. The other part was an offer for the future, a reminder of what Izaya could do for him when the need arose.

[bravados.livejournal.com]

It'd be nice if he could actually believe that the pseudo-pleasantries Izaya offered weren't a stretch, because they were. A really epic, Sistine Chapel-worthy back break of a stretch, considering that Masaomi knew from personal experience that the "whenever" part wasn't remotely true, and the "advice" part was only just. The desire to tell Izaya straight-up that he didn't trust him (and didn't want anything to do with him) versus the desire to get and stay away (despite that he might have to have something to do with him) flared up fiercely —

— and as usual with such combinations, Masaomi didn't react either way, because he could almost find it in himself to be relieved, too. All in all, he didn't find the simple pretense between them a pity in the least. Izaya being around here longer wouldn't change this unless he decided to pinwheel an already precarious situation — besides being here to start with, Masaomi would only have to make sure he didn't land himself in any. Anymore. The bright side was that, sometimes, Masaomi needed reminders. According to Murphy's Law, he'd get reminders, regardless of whether or not he needed them. (And if he did his homework right, that law was better than Newton's, which predicted he'd crash anyway, especially if he chose to stand still.)

"It's appreciated, Izaya-san," he said, as honestly as he was able. He'd take pretenses over the real thing any day, until they became just as real, even if pretending that he'd never once gone gushing to the guy about how great his help had been wasn't getting more difficult the more he fell back into old habits, old haunts. Not to mention the longer he tried talking with the guy. "I guess — if that's all, I'll see you around later."