Day 54: Sun Room

[tightsofmight]

[From here. All your top posts shall be mine.]

Peter entered the Sun Room with a dour expression. Goody, he was the first one here. Fancy that. Pick of the couches was his then. Eeeny meeny miney...moe. Peter stalked over to what he knew from experience was the fluffiest couch in the room and eased himself into its downy soft embrace. Ordinarily he would have just pounced on that sucker, but yeah. His arm was in a sling for a reason. He sighed and wormed his way into a full body sprawl. He didn't care if it was irresponsible of him. This shift's only mission was to remain as still as possible.

Of course, being the first one in here had some stipulations. With great opportunity came great responsibility. Which today, came in the form of a soft meow from below. Then the sound of puncturing fabric, advancing upwards towards him. More meows, independent of one another and even more tiny punctures.

Peter Parker was now officially the cat sitter.

"...Oh hi... lonely kittens," he said uneasily as the first scrambled over the edge of the cushion. It padded towards his face. "No no, kittens don't belong near faces." He gently picked it up and put it on his chest. Two more crawled over the edge.

He had never really had a pet growing up. And he didn't hang out with a lot of people with cats or dogs, either. So of course, he didn't have a good idea of how to properly handle most animals without ticking them off. It looked like he was going to have to make up for lost time now, as the cats' numbers swelled to four. Two were exploring his legs, another batted at a fraying string on his sling, and the first stumbled back towards his face and mewed plaintively. Peter frowned and gave it a ginger pat on the head. That seemed to to the trick. He put it back on his chest again and scratched behind its ears.

"You guys had better not start doing that claw thing on my leg. I can't reach right now, but revenge will be mine if you do."

"Meeeeew!"

"I'm still petting you! Geez."

[For Elle Bishop.]

Comments

[corvus-veritas.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1034326.html?thread=75337302#t75337302).]

So this was the Sun Room. Definitely looked a lot more comforting than the recreational field littered with angry soldiers. The quiet atmosphere was a relief from everything that had gone on today. That was probably because hardly anyone was in here right now. Byrne figured the number would increase quickly, considering all the victims of that damn gas who'd also want somewhere to relax.

So logically he should take the opportunity now to get a feel for his surroundings before more people would come in and clutter up the room. Hm. Not much in here beyond glass, doors and couches. Along the green walls of the room he saw something of interest - a huge bulletin board, cluttered with several notes. Time for a little investigation.

Byrne went up to the board and stared curiously. There were all kinds of notes pinned on it, all seeming to have been written earlier in the day. This must be how the patients communicate back and forth, but... It was odd. Most of the notes were asking people to 'check in if they were alright'. One said 'sorry for not meeting with you last night'. Another asked about a patient that had been 'released', whatever that implied. All evidence proving Renamon's story was right.

Just as he was sure he'd seen everything and was about to go lie down for a little while, his eyes caught sight of a particular note that was on the top of all the others, apparently having been added recently.

A note (http://community.livejournal.com/damned_bulletin/795299.html) that made his blood run cold.

That symbol.

It couldn't be.

No.

How?!

Immediately he grabbed the note and stared at it for a long time, contemplating tearing it off the wall. Was this a joke!? Renamon swore only Miles Edgeworth had been here before, meaning no one else here could possibly know. Unless...oh god. Were one of his teammates here?! This person had even written 'Little Thief' - the name of Byrne's secret weapon. What the hell was going on?!

It must've taken him ten minutes to scribble out a reply, his mind going blank trying to find things to say, his hand trembling from sheer horror. Somehow he managed to find something coherent to say after several scratch-outs, and after he slapped his reply onto the board he stalked off to an unoccupied couch, feeling twenty times more miserable than he did before.

Damnit. Could this day get any worse?!

[Free for the snatching!]

[laguz-decoy.livejournal.com]

As they headed toward the Sun Room, Ranulf kept a mental note of the passageways they were walking through, making sure to memorize it so he could draw it all out later.

Flo opened the doors, and the Sun Room looked the same as ever. Most of the other patients there looked as if they had met with the unfortunate cloud as well. It was odd... Ranulf had never seen the Institute react this way toward patients, at least during the daytime. It only motivated him more to try and find a way out, as soon as possible.

"Why don't you sit with Anthony for a while, Alex?" The nurse, sat him down next to a brown haired man he'd never met before. She then hurried off, although still seeming reluctant to return to the training grounds they'd just ventured from.

Ranulf set the leaflet and pen on the coffee table, and turned to glance at the man Nurse Flo had seated him next to. He seemed disturbed... probably one of his first days in this horrible place. Ranulf gave him a kind smile, and offered his hand for a handshake.

"I actually go by Ranulf. I'm suspecting your name isn't Anthony, is it?"

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

There were army men in the Sun Room as well, as it turned out, so Kibitoshin's decision to stay inside hadn't exactly been an act of tactical genius, but on the whole it was better than freezing outside. Especially while his nose resembled a running tap from all that horrible-- stuff in the cafeteria. His nurse had loaned him a tissue or three, but something told the Kaioshin he was going to need more than that to keep himself suitable for polite company.

Maybe the noise would keep the cats away.

With a heartfelt sigh he flopped down onto a sofa and stared up through the ceiling to the clouds. It really did seem far away, now that he couldn't fly. Was this what humans felt like all the time? Strange to think that he'd probably spent more time floating in Earth's air than he had actually on the ground; it had seemed like he'd spent all of his visits fetching things or chasing other people. Not the best use of his amazing, thorough Kaioshin training, he supposed, but then no one ever seemed to trust him with doing much more back home. His Ancestor certainly hadn't.

Oh, dear. If he wasn't careful, he'd start to get all maudlin and self-pitying, and that certainly wouldn't do. Or was it just the gas making his eyes and nose run, still? Anyway, that didn't matter. Even if it was just that, he had to maintain at least the appearance of grace and poise and wisdom at all times, especially in front of other people.

SNIIIIFFF.

Yes. Grace and poise. He was going to be the epitome of it.

[no-dont-go.livejournal.com]

Heavy. So very, very heavy. Aigis had never quite felt this way before. It was similar to the experience of breaking down, but still different. She felt she had lost some of her control over her body but she was still moving forward, still doing what she wanted. Only much, much slower. Or did it just seem to be slower?

Her nurse seemed strangely upset, chattering on about how she wished it hadn't come to this. Aigis didn't understand her worry. She had willingly gone against the wishes of the institute. She had caused a scene like everyone else, perhaps not in the same hostile way Sechs and some others had, but she still had done what she had done. And she had no regrets. Though she would readily admit, the feeling of being 'sedated' was definitely unpleasant.

She wasn't escorted to the greenhouse though she might have enjoyed seeing the flowers. Nurse Cathy didn't seem to think it would be wise to go outside as she was. So instead, Aigis was left to find a place in the Sun Room.

She staggered over to a couch, not really paying much attention at first to the other occupant, then plunked down. Blinking slowly, she turned her head to him at last, trying to focus. It was hard, especially when the seat felt so cushy and soft... "Hello." Her voice seemed to echo in her ears. Why did everything sound so far, far away? "I hope you do not mind..."

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

Peter was still busy hacking and coughing and struggling with the after-effects of the gas by the time he made it back to the Sun Room. He rubbed at his watering eyes and let out a sigh, surprised to see that the area was still pretty empty when he got there. Claire wasn't around, which might mean she'd been forced to go to the greenhouse. Still, if he'd been able to convince his nurse to let him come here, shouldn't she have been able to do the same?

He hoped she hadn't had to deal with the tear gas -- in retrospect, it would have been better if he'd just gotten the hell out of the room the second things had started going crazy. Still, he'd been worried that would get him into more trouble, so he'd stayed put under that table and paid for it as a result. Maybe Claire had been smarter about it, but if she did end up showing, he'd pretty much know immediately just from how red her nose and eyes were.

The Sun Room actually had a few people in it who he recognized. First was Kibitoshin, who he had totally lost track of earlier and who he was glad to see was doing relatively okay. He gave the kid a wave to let him know that he'd made it through as well, but held off on approaching him for now. He had to wait for Claire, after all.

The other person who stood out was the other Peter, the younger one who'd apparently gotten the nickname "Pete" from Claire. That had been kind of weird to see, considering that was what Nathan called him, but... seeing how Nathan was the only one who was really allowed to call him that, it was all right. This would at least help them stay distinguished. Either way, the kid looked pretty busy playing with the cats, so he kept his distance from him as well, just watching as he wondered what he and Claire had managed to do last night.

But Claire would probably explain that the second she got here. If she got here. Peter rubbed at his eyes again and found himself a seat, watching the door as he hoped his niece would show herself.

1/2 lmao whoops you love me

[autophoenix.livejournal.com]

The whole time the food fight was going on, Claire had done a good job of keeping to herself. Maybe if she hadn't been stuck in that haze of discomfort that told her she was still recuperating from the last night's excursion, she would have been more inclined to try and sneak off, but as it stood she was doing everything she could not to fall asleep in her breakfast. That kind of ingenuity and motivation was just a little bit beyond her.

However, there was no wake-up call quite like the hiss of cans of tear gas cracking open and filling the room with the thick, offensive white smoke. Without a gas mask on to filter it out, the gas began to replace the air and, as such, got sucked into her lungs. It didn't so much do its job of irritating them (or, if it did, she couldn't tell because it was just a staunch discomfort the same as regular suffocating had proven to be) as it made her feel like she was choking on the very air she was breathing in.

Suffocating on air -- what a stupid way to die that would be, and as someone who was undeniably an expert on ways to kill yourself, Claire felt justified in thinking so. She reached up to place her hands over her throat as it dispersed, choking and gasping to try and suck in oxygen instead of the offensive gas that was just worsening her condition. The more she sucked in, the darker her vision got, and she felt like she was spinning. It wasn't until the gas had been sucked away through the ventilation system and the staff returned, a nurse helping Claire to her feet (when had she fallen off of her bench and onto the floor?) that she even became aware of the excess of bodily fluids that had poured off of her face and down her front. Great.

She let the nurse pull her up by one arm, her legs still shaky from the light-headedness that had onset so suddenly, and tried to reorient herself with little luck as she scrubbed a hand over her face, then wiped her nose again with the back of her arm. Both sides of her hand then got haphazardly wiped on the side of her sweatpants. It took several minutes for her to get a hold of herself, healing abilities or no healing abilities. The choking was gone as soon as the gas was, but she kept coughing to get it out of her lungs and her nose wouldn't stop running. Augh. At least the nurse was letting her take her dear sweet time getting situated -- apparently, even if they were heartless enough to gas the patients, they at least knew what to expect in the aftermath.

"Emma, perhaps you'd like to get some more rest," the nurse offered, and Claire couldn't help but shoot her a narrow look. Seriously? She wanted to ask. You ask me this now? Taking a moment to lean against the wall of the cafeteria, she set her mind to her conversation with Peter through the bulletin and just shook her head.

"I'm fine," she pulled her arm out of the nurse's grasp gently. She'd seen what had happened to the people who weren't so gentle. She wasn't making that mistake, no matter how unsettling it was to see this girl acting like a Stepford wife when just last night one of them had been out for her blood. Had gotten her blood. Unconsciously, she ran a hand over her abdomen where the scalpels had carved her skin, now just as flat as the rest of her stomach. "Maybe I could just spend some time in the sun room?" The kittens were supposed to be some kind of relaxing thing for the patients, right? It was hard to argue that it'd be better than a shift locked in her room.

"Of course," and with that compliance, they moved into the expansive sun room through the double doors that joined it with the cafeteria, ignoring as the other girls filtered out towards the greenhouse, and the boys headed … wherever they were going. Claire hadn't really paid attention. She'd been distracted by the way that Lydia acted like it was their fault that they decided to throw in a tear gas bomb. Since when was that an FDA approved treatment method?

[autophoenix.livejournal.com]

As soon as she stepped into the Sun Room, Claire's heart stopped. Oh god, Peter. Not uncle-Peter, no, she was pretty grateful to see him but Pete … She ducked her head, much to the nurse's confusion, and tried to pretend that she could somehow, if she prayed hard enough, blend into the wall and go unnoticed by him. The note he'd left on the bulletin board was still crumpled in her pocket; she'd crushed it into a ball after she'd decided she had no idea what to decide as far as handling it went, and tore it town. Hopefully Peter hadn't seen it before then.

She beelined for his table and tried to position herself on a side of it that would help her go without having to face Pete the whole time they talked. If she kept her back to him, maybe she'd feel less guilty for ignoring him while she tried to come up with an excuse that beat the last one she'd fed West. She reached up with one hand to try and rub away the redness from her nose, which still felt awkwardly tingly from the tear gas, offering a more genuine scowl to Peter than she'd given the nurse.

"Can you believe them?"

[thecamellia.livejournal.com]

_{[Closed to Kuro and Fai?]}

It was terrible, Tsubaki couldn’t stop coughing, and her throat her badly. It’d been bad enough with the soldiers lurking in every corner, but when the fighting had broken out… Jeez. She beat her nurse into the Sun Room, rubbing her eyes, which were still a bit red and sore.

Fighting the prisoners was hardly fair when the uniformed people had weapons whereas the prisoners had nothing but their repressed powers. She didn’t know what that gas was, but it hurt. Her nurse had tried to pull her through the crush of staff members to get her out of the cafeteria, but the room had been full of moving bodies and clouds of gas and she’d inhaled some before the nurse could drag her out. As a consequence, she’d spent the next few minutes in the bathroom, eyes tearing, while her nurse had rushed around attempting to flush out her eyes, saying things like, "Tear gas!? I can’t believe them… I’m so sorry, honey… Here, here, hold your head back…"

"It’s--it’s all right, I’m oka--" Tsubaki had tried to get out once, but she’d started coughing soon after and couldn’t finish. Eventually, she tried not to speak at all.

Her nurse had continued to fret all the way through getting her a new change of clothes, and Tsubaki could understand her concern. For a while, she had hardly been able to see through her runny eyes and had needed a guiding hand to keep her from walking into walls. What a horrible weapon… and a horrible thing to do. She could also understand why so many people had struck out against the staff and the soldiers, but between the two sides, things were out of control. There were people who couldn’t defend themselves in there, injured people, children… She didn’t want to think what a full dose of the gas could do.

Back in the Sun Room, she could see there were fewer people than normal, in part to the split shift and also no doubt due to other punishments. It hardly seemed right to go about a normal day with the stone-faced soldiers still looming everywhere.

She scrunched her nose and rubbed her eyes some more.

[not-rly-fai.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1034326.html?thread=75352150#t75352150)]

Coming inside again after the chill outdoors made it seem far too warm, but he followed his nurse, hesitating a moment when she told him to sit. It wasn't that he didn't wish to, but of all the people she might have chosen for him to sit with, it was Tsubaki. He hadn't seen her in person since that night and frankly it was no easy feat to face her. They could pretend though, couldn't they? They could both play along easy enough.

He sat heavily on the same couch, offering the girl a false smile and a cheery wave before leaning his head back as far as it would go. At least they didn't have to worry about flying food or poison gas for a little while.

"Looks like we all had a pretty rough morning," he offered

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1034326.html?thread=75340886#t75340886)]

Warm air was much easier on the lungs than cold air, he hadn't faked that. Badd swung by the bulletin board again and was relieved to find a reply in Kay's handwriting. If she was as perky as she'd let on, she hadn't gotten the worst of the situation. There was a load off his chest. If she wasn't in here, fine, at least she was alive and drawing hearts on things.

Badd flopped down on a spare couch and drew in a long, aching breath of clean air. How was it, he wondered, that he was actually getting beaten up more after his 'escape' from jail than he had been when he was a cop in state custody?

He needed a retirement from his retirement.

[Lana!]

[fourstonewalls]

They hadn't gotten far when complete pandemonium broke out in the cafeteria; just as well they were out here. That had to be tear gas, from the reactions of the patients stumbling out and the staff. Their little group had been broken up, but no more than stern words issued, and Lana was left to quietly read through the bulletin board in peace. There was that emblem again -- what on Earth was that girl thinking? One of the other hands had to be Detective Badd; Gant hadn't been lying, then. The men had mostly been trotted outside, but at least one of those notes was new -- Lana turned around and surveyed the room. A spray of salt-and-pepper hair and a broad shoulder peeked over the edge of a couch. Gotcha.

As monochromatic as ever, eh, Detective? She strolled over. Seven years after Prosecutor Faraday's death meant that she was squarely his ex-coworker, and he had every right to dismiss her out of hand. Still, it was worth the try.

When she was a few feet away, she cleared her throat. He'd likely spotted her halfway across the room, without even turning around; his reputation was legendary even within the department. But it wouldn't do to be rude. "Detective Badd? May I have a word?"

[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1034326.html?thread=75343446#t75343446)]

The nurse didn't seem to care how Mello phrased his intent to go back to the Sun Room, but she did give him a sad look, as though he was supposed to care if she was disappointed. "Michael, you'd get injured a lot less if you'd just try to accept our help here."

"Help, yeah, it's cute that y' think that's what you do." He spoke mostly at random, just letting the words come out, but he was still with-it enough to put the right amount of bitterness into his laugh.

He'd intended to make a serious post to the bulletin board, but that wasn't about to happen now. His head was fuzzy, and he'd have to write it wrong-handed on top of that; he'd be lucky if anyone could read it. He scrawled a quick, short note that also needed to go up, instead, and found a place to sit, at a safe distance from the poor kid covered in cats.

[One sedated orphan, free to good home!]

[savagesolitude.livejournal.com]

She had been halted the moment she had set foot in the courtyard. It shouldn't have been a surprise (and really, it wasn't), but Claire was still boggling at the sheer number of soldiers flooding the institute today. There had already been a swarm of them in the cafeteria. What did they all need to be here for?

In reality, she was secretly grateful for being turned back in. Claire had known she picked the wrong door once it had swung open and left her standing in the freezing cold, wearing nothing but her slippers and the paper thin uniform. She had stood there, shivering miserably with the soldiers until a nurse collected her shortly after. Claire scarcely lent her an ear as she all but dashed inside and refused to trek over to the greenhouse. She didn't care how warm it would be inside the greenhouse itself, it would still involve walking outside. She was not doing that.

Sour faced from both the cold and dealing with Damon, Claire stomped into the Sun Room rubbing her arms. She plummeted into the first empty seat she could find and hugged her knees to her chin, scowling at the wall.

She hated the cold. And vampires. Two things she had once thought of as fun -great adventures even - she now loathed with a murderous hatred. In Damon's case, it was a literal one.

[GRELL SUTCLIFFE WE CAN HAVE PSYCHO-BIFFLE TIMES NOW, YES?]

[deadlyjuliet.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1034326.html?thread=75354198#t75354198) and miffed!!! about being taken to the male roll call]

How dare they! How dare they lump Grell together with the men! He was a woman. A woman despite how he looked on the outside. It wasn't his fault God made him this way and decided to make Grell suffer the pangs and hell of being different! But no, the Institute had to go and rub it in by segregating him into the male populace simply because his body was the way it was. Well, Grell would show them one day. Once he got his scythe back, the blood would be running down the walls thicker than paint. The death god's fingers twitched at the very thought of it as he entered the Sun Room, the only neutral area he was allowed today.

Even if more of the drippy nosed, snot-faced people were here, at least the Sun Room had a mix of people so he didn't feel quite so singled out. That and misery loved company, and all the people in the Sun Room seemed thoroughly miserable. It was understandable, of course, considering what had just happened. "Tear gas," Harvey had said. Humans were so inventive.

Moving through the crowd, Grell noted a young woman who, despite not being red-eyed and poisoned, was still wearing a dour expression on her face. She was a blond, a pretty one at that, but her hair was a mess and it looked like she hadn't eaten a proper meal in some time. Poor thing, Grell thought as he stopped by her seat. This was twice he'd come upon someone who was upset over something or another. The first time had yielded fun results, so why not try again? "You're far too pretty to be scowling so much, dear. Is there something amiss?"

[thatdemonbitch.livejournal.com]

[ from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1035037.html) ]

The sun room was already surprisingly well populated by the time she got there. No sign of Winchester blood, but hey. Beggars couldn't be choosers and at least she was out of the garden. After the tear gas and the ape in the kitchen, she was starting to wonder if maybe they had a host of poisonous plants hidden in there between the daisies and petunias.

Some of the faces of the people who'd populated the room looked familiar, like the guy who was still seriously lacking in the haircut department, but mostly they were unfamiliar. Taking a seat on one of the couches and getting comfortable with her arms up over the back, she checked out some of the people sitting around the room. Most of them looked to be, like her, still suffering the stifling effects of the tear gas.

Instinctively at seeing them in other people, she sniffed a little, the corners of her mouth twitching at the way it irritated her nose, which had gone from running endlessly to stuffed up in an attempt to keep itself from being assaulted by further gaseous attacks. Hopefully someone who looked like they could provide as many answers as Senna had would show up soon, without the shrill attachment of a tiny blonde.

You'd think a sun room would at least have windows that weren't in the ceiling or something. A girl could only stare at the naval paintings for so long before getting sick of their attempts to relax their patients. A kitten, particularly brave, began to crawl up onto the couch's arm on the opposite side of where Ruby was sitting and she looked over slowly, eyes narrowed and eyebrows raised expectantly like she was daring it to keep creeping forward.

[ the littlest angel ]

[affictitious]

[From here.]

Now that the relative population of soldiers had dwindled (at least from what Gabriel could see) he was free to dip back into his outrageously charming asshole persona. It was a lot easier to be smug when the threat of a gun butt in your face wasn't really close at hand. If he was really pathetic, he could've taken some kind of sick joy in the congratulation Nurse Piccowang had given him for being such a good patient; apparently hiding taking reasonable cover under tables during total riots was a commendable gesture.

He should've gotten a medal for some other crap he'd done, then. Just call him a regular Houdini, master of stupidly flashy escapes that were totally called for and not cowardly in the least and was his nose ever going to stop running? Half of his shirt was now wet and blotted with waaaay too many fluids. He hadn't even known the human body had so many liquids in it. Of course, he'd never been trapped in one, either.

Gabriel appraised the sun room with a sniffle, not particularly thrilled with the prospect of being trapped there for an hour. This whole schtick was already getting way old... and there were cats everywhere.

Okay, so he liked cats. But still.

The archangel hopped over the back of a couch, flopping onto the cushion and sending a curious kitten running and screaming. Least the furniture was nice. He could just stretch out and relax next to -

- a body that a demon should have been in. REPEAT: A BODY THAT A DEMON SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN. DEMON MEAT. NOT GOOD.

Should have being the tricky key words there. Angeldar was still broken, so Gabriel couldn't be sure. But hell, what were the chances it was just anonymous human number 53,984? Especially considering it was Ruby. Rubes. The Rubster. Half of the whole damn reason Lucifer had had his chance to be such an enormous dick.

So of course he met her with a smile that would make grown car salesmen weep in envy. "So, been here long?"

[avengingfists.livejournal.com]

Apparently leaving during that fiasco of a food fight had been worth it, if the sad saps Ilia saw crawling out of the cafeteria were any indication. From all the drool, tears and snot running down their faces it was obvious they had been gassed. Tear gas! In a mental institute! What kind of sick method was that? Certainly not the correct way to deal with any mental patient. Not that anyone here really was crazy or anything.

It just set Ilia's blood boiling. There could have been kids caught in there! What if Anise had been trapped in there? She was sure the girl had been quick enough to escape, and she seemed smart enough not to get caught up in such a thing but still, Ilia worried. The least she could say was that Lana, her little sister Ema and herself had done the right thing and left when the place started to really get messy.

"I don't approve of your methods!" Ilia complained to one of the officers that had apprehended her little group. Lana and Ema had already been led away by their nurses but Ilia wouldn't budge until she got answers. "As military officers you have to do your best to protect civilians! Tear gas is a last ditch effort when you're trying to gain control of a dangerous mob! Everyone here was just throwing food!"

"Some had begun to throw chairs and even attacked staff. It became too dangerous to approach them one on one." For her cold answer, the lady officer at least had the grace to look half-way apologetic. Apparently gassing mental patients didn't sit well with her.

She probably can't go against orders, either, Ilia thought somberly as she found a place to sit on one of the couches. She couldn't really blame the one officer, especially if that were the case. She knew that feeling of hopelessness all too well. Ilia's nurse tried to urge her to go out into the Greenhouse but she wasn't interested. She kept her eyes intent on the patients milling around the room, some stumbling around after a sedation, some cleaned but still looking red-eyed from the gas. She hoped with all hope that at least the few friends she knew had made it out without problem.

[gomenkudasai.livejournal.com]

Ritsu, too, was glad he’d left breakfast early – though he hadn’t caught more than the beginning of the fight, having originally meant to excuse himself for different reasons. The events of the previous night had taken quite a toll on his unremarkable self, emotionally and physically…he had slipped out just as the food began to fly, selfishly seeking a few moments alone with his thoughts.

He had sniffled many an apology, to the soldiers and anyone that would listen, when he’d realized what he’d escaped – surely he deserved such treatment more than any of those who had endured it, and yet in addition to avoiding the gas, he’d been so bold as to experience a glimmer of relief at the fact that he wasn’t among the hacking, suffering mass.

And so, his eyes were as red and swollen as any of the punished patients by the time he’d stuttered his “real” name out during the intimidating role call. A kind nurse had actually suggested that he rest in the Sun Room through this shift - she was the same person who had informed him of his cousin’s moving on the night before, and could tell the news was still affecting the young man, even today. Had Ritsu known her actions were brought on by guilt and pity, he’d likely have gone into self-depricating hysterics once again…but the nurse seemed to know that, too, and was as careful as she could be in easing him into a nearby couch before leaving.

His slim fingers stroked the ribbon in his hair gently as he tried to collect himself, looking about the room – he had decided, on an impulse, to wear the present he had made for Kagura, having never gotten the chance to give it to her. It was meant as a sort of remembrance for the family member that had meant so much to him, not as a statement that his useless self was somehow worthy of wearing something meant for someone else. He choked back his worry with logic…the gift had been made by his own clumsy hands, after all. It likely wasn’t something anyone would want to receive, especially from him.

His cousin was lucky she’d left before he had the chance to burden her with it.

A soft sigh left his lips, amber eyes focusing as his attention moved back towards reality. They widened as he saw a familiar face on a couch nearby…he knew it as vividly as anything else that he had seen the night before, burned into his memory by the panic and fear of his interrupted suicide attempt and the pathetic battle that followed.

“Ah! You’re--” His words broke the silence before he could stop them, and suddenly he realized that he hadn’t asked if she would rather be left alone, or stopped to think about the fact that he might be forcing someone into conversation with someone as uninteresting as himself. He clapped his hand over his mouth, sputtering another apology, yet leaning in closer as he bowed. “I-I-I’m sorry! I just…from last night, you…I…”

[inherited]

[from here]

Once he got inside, Riku realized that he wanted to keep an eye on things. A number of theories connected to Landel's worries the night before started to push through his mind, and he didn't like them. The likelihood that this meant bad things in the future bothered him. It meant that things might change, and any knowledge they had would be made obsolete. It was paranoia, to be sure, but he didn't like it. It felt like an inspection of some kind. And inspections when the patients were mostly unwilling to agree to their names—well, they didn't usually end well. It meant that Landel wasn't succeeding.

What bothered him was that these soldiers didn't have the same understanding. In some way, they were no different from the nurses. They were just following a part, with Landel knowing more. Riku wondered if that would change. He knew where he came from. So did Sora. So did many people. What did it mean? His theory added up in his head, but it didn't make sense. If Landel was like Xemnas, he worked outside of jurisdiction. Anyone would have assumed that, right? Until today.

Riku frowned as he moved to the bulletin and replied to Kairi's note. He left it at that, and dropped into a seat nearby. This was a mess. But he knew he'd have to keep Sora from making any club duties for the night. He had a feeling they wouldn't matter by then.

[for Rei!]

[hasnomeaning]

Tear gas. It was over the top, and moderately unsuspected. Rei had not expected it, but the movements of the men deemed her attention--still, her reactions were off. She had covered her fact once it had been realized but she had already breathed in, already had let it touch the soft places that should otherwise be hidden in that circumstance, and she had started coughing immediately. Still, she had remained where she was, put her head between her knees and tried to focus on normal breaths. It had gotten easier. In time, her body remembered how to successfully breathe.

She allowed herself to be changed, and then denied the greenhouse in an uncharacteristic move. There was an annoyance to be had in being punished while one did nothing wrong. She pressed at her reddened eyes, sclera nearly the same color as her irises, and continued taking evened breaths. She questioned why she had inhaled, understanding precisely what that was? A lack of discipline. She was allowing herself to become lax.

Her attention was mainly on finding a seat and allowing her body to continue to regulate to normal. That it was near another that she had met before, one who had proven himself useful, was a side note. She nodded at him, and then sat, the cool skin of her fingertips pressed into a fevered eyelid.

[future-games.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1034326.html?thread=75359574#t75359574)]

Isaac was still rubbing his eyes and coughing something awful when he walked to the sun room. The way this place handled things was so strange. Sure, he was aware based on conversations with others that Landel's wasn't exactly a humane facility, but this was the first time anything had become a reality. Letting loose tear gas to take care of something like a food fight? It wasn't the right way to deal with something so small.

The room was faily occupied when Isaac opened the door, but it didn't bother him as much as it usually might have. He was exhausted and still half frozen from the cold wind that had been blowing down the recreational field, so it felt in his best interests to grab a couch while they were still free.

He sat there in silence listening to the buzz of quiet conversation without really understanding and listlessly staring back at one of the staff members who was watching from the balcony. Everything here seemed so eery and dream-like, almost indentical to the feeling he got when he painted one of his visions. It all seemed unreal, and he still found himself drifting to the idea idea of all of this being some hallucinative trip gone wrong.

[Freeee~ as a bird~]

[xenolingual.livejournal.com]

Uhura, to say the least, was completely mortified by the turn of the events in the cafeteria. Naturally she hadn't participated in any of the food fighting, but she still managed to catch a facefull of tear gas, and that was just- Completely and utterly unacceptable. Dark creatures that went bump in the night were one thing, she could handle being thrown into dark situations when she knew it was a possibility, but during a meal? During the day? Because of a food fight?!

Even pacing around the Sun Room wasn't doing much to calm her down, no matter where she decided to burn a hole in the carpet with her plain, white, boring sneakers. It was either she walk it off, or tell somebody off. Probably somebody that didn't deserve said telling off. Or Kirk. Either one.

It wasn't until she realized she was pacing right in front of someone that was sort of... staring that she snapped out of her tiny fuming rage, and she turned to follow his gaze up to the balcony.

Fascinating.

"You know." Uhura didn't usually just talk to people without introducing herself first, but well. Tear gas made her crazy! "I'm no expert on the rules of this place, but I am sure they must mention something against fraternization between patients and nurses. You might want to keep the stares of longing to a minimum, in public." It was hard to tell if she was joking or not.

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1034326.html?thread=75362902#t75362902).]

When Howl spotted an unoccupied sofa, it was momentarily all that his brain seemed to have room for. He stumbled over to it, and for a moment posed out of reflex to make sure that he collapsed on it in an appropriately flattering way. As a reward, his long hair spilled across the cushions in a perfect glossy fan. With notably less grace, he pulled his feet up onto the couch and contemplated what a disgraceful way to die this would be. His own snot and drool all over himself, aching and stinging, food in his hair, his brilliant mind unable to grasp anything but his own sorrow.

It was so disgraceful that Howl thought it might be easier if he did, in fact, just expire from shame and asphyxiation in his sleep. At the moment, it seemed to be the only way out of this hell, considering that he had squandered his only concrete opportunity to escape. In his weakness, he hoped that if he must wake again, it would be to Sophie scowling down at him for his idiocy.

"Yes," he rasped into the squishy cloth. "I think I should like to die today."

[For Sakura.]

[see-my-back.livejournal.com]

Sakura arrived, hair still wet to the touch in places after her nurse tried to help her get the last of breakfast out of it. She looked disheveled, sloppy, and more than fit the part of hopeless mental patient. The sedative had worked its way quickly into her system after her attempts to slip out at breakfast but at least it meant she'd escaped the worst of the gas they'd used.

The nurse talked childishly to her, depositing her on the couch beside someone she vaguely recognized, but her mind was elsewhere, slow and sluggish in a way only Naruto could truly comprehend. She hated it, but the drugs helped plenty with that too. Her usual black temper was dulled to the point of an irritated little huff as she sat, hardly noticing at first the whispered mutterings of the man beside her.

Her head felt fuzzy and detached and the thoughts, equations, and perfect memory of hers were terribly far away. Slumping on the couch seemed like a wonderful idea though. And since he was taking up the majority of the couch, she flopped over his legs and feet, pink hair falling in front of her face as she let out a quiet sigh. Her own feet were left to dangle haphazardly over the armrest.

"They just don't play fair," she mumbled.

[timedork]

[From here]

A short, escorted walk later, and the Doctor was back in the Sun Room. His first order of business was finding Donna.

He hadn't talked to her in a few days—not since the day after she'd been experimented on—and checking in to see how she was holding up was long overdue... especially after this morning. There was no guarantee she'd even be here in the Sun Room—the announcement after breakfast had said something about women being taken to the greenhouse, after all—but if she was...

Well, even if she wasn't, he could at least leave a note. Try to get in touch with her so that he could check in later. Keeping an eye out for a familiar head of ginger hair, he made his way slowly towards the bulletin board.

[For Donna?]

[mateswithnobody.livejournal.com]

Well that had been fun enough. At first. Donna'd enjoyed about a few moments of engaging in a food fight before some bozo with a suit and syringe had dropped her like a pro wrestler. She thought she might have whacked him with the back of her tray afterwards, but that may have been wishful thinking on her part. She could at least pretend she'd had the last hit, at least.

Unfortunately she could not pretend away the fact that she and the entirety of the cafeteria had been gassed. Honestly, truly gassed! Like you'd get during some kind of protest or something! Donna didn't know exactly what had prompted the food fight in the first place, but she was damn sure that something like that was supposed to be for fun and not because of political unrest or whatever.

Military idiots and their lacking senses of humor.

Of course she could have just been bummed that the Doctor had slipped out before taking any hits from her food tray. Well, any that she had seen. She'd have to have him make up for that one.

Turning down the offer of what had to be a cold outdoorsy morning, Donna wandered into the Sun Room and checked around for a certain spaceman for about a minute. Searching, she determined, didn't work all that well when your vision was still blurred thanks to tear gas. Eventually she stopped, sighed, and after folding her arms simply gave a very demainding, "Oy!"

Might work. Might also get her a run in with another uniform, but either way, she could use something to vent at.

[she-is-ruin.livejournal.com]

_{[closed due to people-watching > people-talking. X|]}

Her expectations had been exceeded; her fellow captives had let loose on any hospital-related figure in an expanding domino effect that had ended in an attack of tear gas, of all things. Prisoners fighting hospital staff, prisoners fighting soldiers, maybe even prisoners fighting other prisoners…

A twinge of disappointment pulled at her, not because people had been hurt, or because others were being dragged away to solitary, or because the gassing was making a lot of people around her violently ill, but because Yomi had only tripped an orderly, making it look like an accident, before she’d made a break for it like some of the others. In terms of laying down blows, Yomi had not done much of it, which was… a little sad. Whether or not those involved deserved it, she wouldn’t have minded a fight. It’d just been more practical to do what some of the other prisoners had done and try to escape past the nurses, to see how far she could get.

When Yomi had met an obstacle, she hadn’t punched or kicked, but had rather held her hands out and widened her eyes a little. “What’s going on?” she’d mewled in Yoshiko’s voice, and that had been that. She’d been gathered aside, a helpless woman who had tried to avoid the fighting. As she’d come to expect, the hospital staff had fast reaction times…

And then had come the tear gas, which signalled the end of things.

At the very least, she’d gotten to see how this military force fought, and as restless as the sesshouseki’s presence was, she was still a bit happy about not getting caught in the gas episode. If their sedatives worked on her, other chemical agents might, too.

Picking out a spot on a couch, Yomi folded her legs underneath her and sat back to watch for any new developments. Refining her green thumb could wait.

[mugenreppa.livejournal.com]

Mele had at least managed to hand the maps back to Scarecrow. What happened afterward was fuzzy, but she distinctly remembered that she hadn't been the only one it'd happened to. Possibly everyone who had still been in the cafeteria at that point had been affected, but Mele was too pissed off at the nurse to ask her.

At least Mele had managed to hang on to the journal, not that that was much comfort. She'd left it in the room after the nurse had let her go there to change, anyway. Was that supposed to appease her? It was their fault she had to change to begin with!

Still coughing, Mele curled up on a couch and wondered how long it would take to recover. This was taking too long. Whoever had started it had better be afflicted with this, too.

[windsome.livejournal.com]

Once again, the night had come to an abrupt halt.

Having slept through most of the morning, Yukari had slowly but surely begun to stir awake on her own; in her hazy state between unconsciousness and wakefulness, she didn't think twice about clutching the bedsheet she were underneath and pulling it over her head. Some part of her still desired to sleep, but after doing nothing besides rolling around trying to find a comfortable position did she come to the conclusion that sleep simply wasn't coming back for the time being. It wasn't until then, either, did it dawn on Yukari that she was in a bed at all.

Her eyes shot open, and slowly she sat up, giving the room a scrutinizing look as if something were completely off about it. How did... she get here? She was supposed to have been out in the hallways with Kaito, trying to get to that one room...

... That they never got to, apparently. No, something happened, and here she was again.

"What the hell," Yukari muttered under her breath with a groan, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Just how much more ridiculous is this place going to get?"

Maybe he would be able to explain later.

Some moments later, there was a knock at the door, and following that the all too familiar nurse pushed the door open.

"Oh, it's good to see you're awake," she had greeted as she came in. "It's already a little late, so let's get you started for the day. You missed breakfast, but..." the nurse trailed off; where Yukari was expecting the woman to look more disappointed in this, she looked relieved instead. "No, nevermind. You probably want to go to the sun room, don't you?"

Yukari nodded, although she had to wonder what the nurse had been thinking underneath that pause.

... Probably something stupid, just like everything else in the place.

With that, Yukari started her day by following the nurse out into the sun room. As she did, though, the air suddenly felt heavy; just glancing around at the handful of others-- both patient and staff-- around in the room or circling around the board gave her the unsettling impression that... well, she couldn't quite decide on why the atmosphere had suddenly seemed so strange, but it was unsettling.

Yukari sat down on the nearest vacant sofa, eying the bulletin board. Maybe it would be a good idea to get in contact with someone she knew-- which, by this point, was still limited to two people and one other who claimed to know her (although, Yukari felt a little more inclined to believe her, now), yet there was only one who she would go to right away.

That is, if things hadn't been made oddly complicated. She couldn't avoid Minato forever out of not knowing what to do, but...

Leaning against the arm of the sofa, Yukari propped her chin up into the palm of her hand and stared hard at the floor. She would have to figure out what to do sooner or later.

[for renamon]

[diamondstorm]

[kshfkjsd *falls on* T_T]

Rationale had saved her more than others. Once changed, Renamon looked more or less herself, minus the occasional deep inhale to clear her sinuses and the tearing at her eyes. Surprisingly, her throat burned more than anything else. The little she knew of the tear gas Byrne had mentioned made her think of eyes above all else. She was learning. Learning in increasingly unwanted ways. Had there been a point in gassing the entire populace? No. It just simplified matters. They were animals and needed to be controlled. And were one population, not individuals. This was perfectly clear.

The Digimon wasn't picky on where she went next; nothing seemed to matter, and she wasn't too fond of interacting in the next stretch of time as things were. But as she was escorted towards the greenhouse from her room after changing, she looked in the sun room as habit. And saw someone that she had not seen in some time. And decided to remain in that room instead of going outside.

Yukari had been active on the bulletin, but from the few replies, Renamon was certain what had happened. She had came back, so there was something that should be thankful in Renamon, but it was hard to be grateful for a lack of memories. She was glad the girl was safe, to be certain. It just... Added to everything, in the end. Another mark on her list of reasons to keep to Nataku's method of execution, and take it all down, brick by brick, and leaving nothing but blood. It was a harsh thought, quick and sudden, and even as she was half taken aback by it, a part of her had already solemnly nodded. It was the only way. She had agreed.

She approached the girl, then stopped a few feet off and bowed her head. "Yukari. I am Renamon. I spoke to you on the board." As if they were meeting for the first time. They were, though, weren't they? Renamon had not yet met this Yukari, but she would like to have the chance to know her as well.

[highvoltagegirl.livejournal.com]

Elle didn't want to go to breakfast. After the night before, she didn't want to do anything. She wanted to curl up in her bed and have her pity party and cry because even if she was "fixed" or "cured" or whatever, the emotional damage was still open and raw. She wanted Daddy to be alive again. She wanted the worst of her problems to be the possibility of screwing up another Company assignment. But that wasn't her life now, and no amount sobbing or temper tantrum-ing was going to change that.

So she slept straight through breakfast, and would have been content to sleep through the rest of the god awful day if the nurse hadn't yanked her out of bed and practically dragged her down the hall. What the hell was that about? Her nurse wasn't Mary Poppins, but there was usually marginally more coaxing involved in getting her out of bed.

And then there were the soldiers lining the halls. Her uttering of "what the fuck?" was met with a disapproving stare from the nurse, but she explained the situation anyway. In as few words as humanly possible.

Having to answer to her stupid "real" name just brought on more internal anguish that was quickly boiling and becoming external anguish. Rather than deal with the temper tantrum Elle was very visibly about five seconds away from throwing, the nurse decided it would be easier to shove her into the Sun Room and be done with her life.

She instinctively wandered toward the first person she saw. Not being alone in any given public place was still her top priority, even if the people near her weren't particularly paying attention. They'd probably pay attention if Sylar tried to kill her with a pen or craft scissors or something. It was pretty hard to miss that.

Right?

As she sat down on the couch, one thing became very clear. It was pretty hard to not notice a swarm of kittens, all things considered. She'd never had a pet growing up, what with spending most of her life inside the Company and the high possibility it would fry the second she threw a temper tantrum, so when she yanked one of them off Peter's shoe to put in her lap, it was with all the grace of a bratty five year old. The kitten gave a plaintive mew, but then seemed to content itself with trying to eat the hem of her shirt, ignorant to the horrible fate that was probably in store for it.

Oh, right. The kid was still there. She should probably talk to him.

"Are these yours?" Upon realizing she should probably lower her voice so that they wouldn't take the kittens away and spray both of them with cyanide or whatever, she tried again. "Where did you get them?"

[tightsofmight]

Peter could live with kittens, he decided. They were fumbling, fuzzy little things, and considering the closest he'd gotten to petting one was watching the Royale toilet paper commercials they didn't seem to be complaining about his novice ear scratching techniques. Plus they were adorable.

He really did not understand how Brian was convinced they were the devil's creation.

While he had been hoping to hog this couch to himself the whole shift through, it just wasn't happening. If you wanted to stake a proper claim on a couch, your body must occupy at least ninety five percent of the sitting area. If Peter were six food something he might have succeeded. Tragically, he was only a few inches away from Oompa Loompa status, and thus no matter how artfully he arranged his legs over the cushions there was still enough room for any old patient to comfortably park their butt down next to him. Which was precisely what happened when a pretty blond woman sulked her way in and snatched a kitten off his foot. Noooo, not J. Kitty Jameson...

She was being a little rough with it, Peter thought with a frown. Not that he was any expert in kitty handling, but still.

"No, they've always been in here." Peter scooted upright a bit, minding both his shoulder and the kittens as he moved into a sit. It was pretty rude to lay down and take up all that space when someone else was sitting there too. "I was the first one in today so I guess I got ambushed."

[sortaheadstrong.livejournal.com]

To an extent, Celty had been fortunate after the events of the morning. Not that the woman would have admitted that herself. After a drive-by drugging from one of the men in uniform, she'd been just barely aware of the gas that had flooded into the room. Still, the sensation of tear gas for one who had only recently had her head returned was not pleasant. The burning was horrid and she could do nothing for the fact that her face had started leaking on her! Her first time crying and she couldn't even do anything about it!

Thank something for the nurses. And an orderly who was called to help out as Celty wouldn't have been able to get herself moving had she tried.

By the time she came around enough to see beyond both tears and sedation, she found herself laying on one of the Sun Room couches. She remembered a blur of what might have been a shower and some nurses fussing around her, but that was all. The wetness on her face though, that kept her from thinking she'd just had some horrible dream and she slowly reached up to get some tears and other stuff off her face.

Ugh...

[stellarregions]

[From Here]

The Sun Room was guarded like the rest of the institute, but it was quiet and warm and on the whole felt a lot more comforting than being out in the cold on the recreation field did. He wasn't really one for athletics, anyway, despite his background.

He found himself an empty chair and settled into it. Most of the patients here looked worse for the wear, either obviously suffering from the after-effects of the tear gas, sedated, or both. What were things coming to? How could they even hold up the ruse of being a mental health facility when this was how they treated the people supposedly in their care? Were they even trying? Or was this going to be the new shape of things--less hospital, and more overtly a prison? Did he have enough sheer willpower to keep himself together if that happened? He supposed he wouldn't know unless it came down to that. At the moment, it didn't really feel like it. As much as he hated to admit it, he was longing for the daze in which he'd spent most of his time in prison. It had certainly made it easier to cope.

He rubbed a little at his irritated eyes and tried to think of something else to take his mind off the mess the morning had turned into.

[gargantuanlaugh.livejournal.com]

Luckily one couch was completely free. He wasn't up for much conversation today. He needed time to himself for once to think. Not about what had happened last shift. That wasn't important. What mattered was who had snitched.

Someone in this institute knew... they knew about the darker side to Damon Gant and they had been irresponsible enough to blab is all to a potentially dangerous, spiky-haired kid with a hero complex. It wasn't just a breach of trust, it was a life-threatening situation now. Whoever it was they were going to pay!

[lookitmemama.livejournal.com]

Asuka was thankful she had decided to chase Brainy out of the cafeteria now that a flood of patients were wobbling in from the breakfast, looking more haggard coming out than they had going in. Many were drenched in their own mucous and saliva while their nurses shuffled them off for a change of clothes. The redhead could guess rather easily what had happened in there.

Poor bastards.

She had gotten off with a light sentence. A simple sedation and then she had been free to wait in the Sun Room until breakfast was over. The eva pilot declined her nurse's invitation to garden, saying that she was just too woozy for manual labor at the moment. The woman relented, but gave her one last skeptical look before freeing the redhead from her constant scrutiny.

She checked the bulletin board first, but nothing useful had been posted. Entertaining, yes. But nothing that she could involve herself in, so she decided to find a seat before they were all taken. Most of the patients that came in from outside were strangers to her, except for one tall man that she immediately recognized. Asuka hadn't talked with him in awhile, and perhaps Mr. Gant had some good information to share. Unfortunately, she had none to report, but that wasn't her fault! She kept getting distracted and--it simply wasn't her fault.

She watched as he took a seat on one of the plush couches and then followed after. Standing behind back of the couch, the eva pilot put on a smile despite the apathy she felt from the sedative and leaned over to catch the older man's attention.

"Ha~ll--Oh no--" Asuka could see the irritation immediately in Gant's red eyes. "Did you get stuck in the gas?"