Day 53: Sun Room, Morning

[scarefaux]

With breakfast finished and a new acquaintance made, the Scarecrow's mind turned to his other friends. The disappearance of Depth Charge's friend had brought back memories of how he'd felt when Kaiji went missing: helpless, useless, as though he should have and could have done something more to find him. If only he had his brain, then maybe he could have thought of something!

As much as he didn't like to admit it, it was unlikely his former roommate was still within the Institute's walls at this point, though the Scarecrow wouldn't know for sure unless Kaiji returned to visit him as Dorothy had, encouraging his supposed recovery. There was still the concern that Landel, despite his vile methods, was actually right and he was suffering from the delusion of having been a scarecrow in Oz. After all, that movie had been a pretty elaborate trick. Would he have planted it in town on purpose, knowing the Scarecrow would be taken there the night of the enchanted doors? And how could he guarantee that once he did find it, he'd take it and actually watch it? There was so much guesswork involved- it seemed the Wizard Landel either liked coincidences or he had more power on his side than any of the patients could have guessed.

The Scarecrow stopped by the bulletin board before heading for a seat, considering writing a note to his friends to check on them. He'd heard from Depth Charge, Remy, and Kibitoshin within a day's time, so he figured they were probably fine (as fine as Depth Charge could have been after last night, anyway). He'd seen Mele and Scar the day before. He put a finger to his head, thinking- he'd not heard from Abe or Sangamon in a day or so, but being professionals, they were probably very busy. Perhaps a note would be best for them.

[Kibby]

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[fourstonewalls]

A flash of grey-white hair, loose and flopping down over a beard the same color, jolted her heartbeat into racing. Damon? Now? With her notes all over the table and her plans in similarly obvious disarray? She swallowed, gathering her composure, and looked up -- finally -- as the man spoke. In a voice nothing like the Chief's booming tones. Oh. Well, that was a piece of luck.

"Lana Skye," she said, smiling sheepishly over her case of misdirected nerves.  She glanced down at her notes -- stress and unanswered questions had turned her usual accuracy into a vague hash of quotes and jumbled timelines.  It might not do any good to have an accurate summary of the night before, but investigating wasn't something she could just turn off. Ema's notes would be equally useless this time; she'd been keeping track of Lana's case, not Landel's torturous ramblings.  

"I don't suppose...would you mind if I asked you a few questions about last night?"  It was a question that could backfire -- only her shadow had become animated, and there were some obvious explanations available.  Comparing notes with Damon would, perhaps, be the obvious move, but she wasn't sure she had enough information -- or composure -- to do that yet.

[whichwayagain.livejournal.com]

Mihai only watched in quiet curiosity as the woman tensed, but didn't pry. The easy answer for nerves was a bad night, something this place went to great lengths to create on a regular basis. But even if that hadn't been the case, Lana relaxed after little more than a breath, and Mihai was content to forget it had ever happened.

And so was this woman, apparently. Mihai could of course guess just what the questions would entail, and he moved into a chair just across from Lana. "I suppose not, but I doubt I'd know more than anyone else." Then there was the matter of just what Mihai would willingly reveal; in his world, the name was enough to tell most people just what crimes he'd committed over his years. Yet within the Institute, Mihai actually had the option of not being knowing as a blood-covered murdered. While he wasn't ashamed of his job in so many words (the past was best accepted, after all), it could be troublesome if people found out, given the attitudes of some he'd seen around.

[fourstonewalls]

A typical non-answer, but it wasn't an outright refusal. Lana launched into the question, her tone and phrasing carefully neutral. "Did anyone in your vicinity experience any of the following: visual distortions, shared or otherwise, and/or being addressed by what was ostensibly one's own shadow?"

"I'm trying to determine if the experience I underwent was universal, and if so, what were its criteria." That she herself had lied to protect a murderer was no longer a secret, although until last night the identity of the murderer had also been a secret to her, which was, as far back as she could recall, a novelty in the district. Others might not be so open. " I realize that, if the Head Doctor's vague statements correspond to the parameters of the effect, that any answer could be taken as a confession; I don't require names, and nothing you say will be held as an admission of criminal activity or the witnessing thereof."

She smiled. It was getting easier every time she did it, not to flinch away from her own emotions. "I won't make any assumptions, and I hope you'll do me the same honor."