[M60]

Honey's words from that afternoon still bothered Sai as he sat on the edge of his bed when the doors opened. Unlike the previous night, he'd changed back into his black ninja attire now, that damned kunai held loosely in one hand. He had a job to do, and though there was the danger of Okita attacking them again tonight, he couldn't just leave Artemis and Haku to do their task alone.

He nodded his goodbyes to his roommate, everything he needed (including a pillowcase just in case they needed a makeshift sack) tucked into his belt. Now wasn't the time for worrying. Though there was still the chance that whatever creature had possessed him in the sun room would do so again, it at least hadn't the night before. That was always a good sign.

Hoping that danger didn't await him the moment he stepped out the door, or that he didn't bring it with him to Artemis's doorstep, Sai walked out into the darkened hall toward the rooms just two rows over.

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[from here]

Nothing in here either. Snow was starting to wonder if maybe Badou had been exaggerating when he said all of the staff turn into monsters. The place'd probably be crawling with Cie'th if that were really the case, or maybe they were all off in another part of the building. At least there wasn't anyone getting attacked or anything yet. He'd just keep an ear out for any trouble.

In the meantime, Snow made his way down the hallway, running a hand along the wall as he tried to get his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Wonder how many people got thrown in here.

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[from here]

This was where his skill with stalking people came in handy; Matt crept along as quietly as he could, relieved to see that the hallways still seemed to be pretty empty. He liked this turn of events. It put him at ease as he strode determinedly down the hall, images of his mental map of the ground floor of Landel's running through his head. He wasn't entirely sure still which room Mello was in, but he felt confident that he could find him before he ran off to do... whatever he had planned.

Which was probably crazy, knowing Mello.

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"—na-"

… Viridian red buildings; clear water rushing—blood red running and then somewhere else; raining now, raining so hard it rained through bones, sounded like a drum-beat or a klaxon or Cait with his tail stuck in a socket…

"Han—"

… Insistent rain, more like Barret's gun-fire or pebbled sand against glass or both, loud and pounding and drowning but not, and somewhere overhead hung a second moon with a Tonberry leering…

"Hanna!"

… "Shut up," Yuffie mumbled thickly, her voice sticking in her throat like molasses.

"Oh, dear," said the trumpet in her ear. "You do have to wake up now, you know. Can't have you missing anything."

"Can too." Cracking her eyes open was going to be a chore like none other, Yuffie was quickly realizing. She didn't want to wake up. Sleep tugged at her, jostled her, clung to her. It called her back, pulled her under, but the trumpet—the voice; the nurse—was insistent. Had to get up, had to go face the day, and dear, oh dear, perhaps you're running a tad bit of a temperature, just a little, nothing to worry about.

It was then that Yuffie realized the problems.

One, it was morning. She wasn't in a locker room and she (mostly) didn't feel like she was gonna hack up a bowl of innards stew. That was… good. And bad. And it was awesome and it sucked, so point number two, please. Two: she didn't feel like somebody'd set up a blender in her stomach so much as she felt like somebody'd stuffed her head and limbs full of down-feathers and sticky toffee and socks. The cloying sensation was reseeding, but it lingered maddeningly. Point three, and this was the kicker: Plucky had been close enough to shake her shoulder, had been shaking her shoulder, and didn't have a black eye or a broken wrist to show for it.

"Oh, hell," Yuffie groaned.

Plucky tutted. "Language, young lady. Now, up you get."

Up Yuffie got, quick enough to almost send herself stumbling. She would not get sick. Not, not, not! It just wasn't gonna happen. After throwing on a sweater, Yuffie grabbed the two squishy balls—one orange and the other purple (both sporting stupid smiley faces)—from inside her desk drawer before she, Plucky in tow, left for the sun room. If she had something physical to focus on, something more than chatting or people-watching or cuddling with Fuzzbutt, she'd have a better chance of jump-starting herself into gear. Maybe. Hopefully.

Before long, Yuffie was perched cross-legged on one of the sun room's many sofas, Fuzzbutt the kitten languishing cosily in her lap. One hand rested against her knee—in that hand sat the purple ball. The other hand, her left hand, was up and moving, manipulating the orange ball into small tricks and sleights. Nothin' fancy. Nothin' even interesting, as far as the ninja was concerned. Just a quick warm up to get her fingers—and her brain, ugh; it was still fuzzier than she'd like—going.

[For Kaito and Yukari!]

[From M59]

Dinner hadn't been Italy's cooking, but Prussia finished it anyway; food was food, and if he succeeded in breaking out of here, it might be a while before he had another chance at a meal.

When an announcement mentioning "patients" was broadcast, it had merely confirmed his suspicions that he'd been placed in a hospital overnight—or perhaps, during the day; from the sound of things, it was already night again. That suited him; the door may have been locked, but his attempts to force it open hadn't brought in any guards, so it seemed that he was alone. He wondered what the control council was trying to accomplish by putting him here; they'd hardly been concerned about his health before (were they trying to make up for what they'd done to him?), and relaxing their guard on him was foolish.

After the announcement, Prussia had started searching for anything that he could use to get out, but the only particularly useful things he'd found were a handheld light, a key, and a pair of boots. It was while he was putting on the boots—who knew what terrain would be like once he got out?—that another announcement was made, of a different nature than the first. The man on the broadcast seemed to be going on about a radio.

Far more interesting than the announcement, however, was the fact that when Prussia tried the door again—out of hope more than any real belief that it would be miraculously unlocked this time—the knob turned.

There wasn't a moment to waste.

The hall was empty. No guards, no England or America just waiting for him to slip up so they would feel more justified in crushing him, no one. Prussia felt somewhat insulted that they were so overconfident as to think their law and a locked door alone would be enough to render him useless.

There was a long row of doors ending in what looked to be a dead end to his left when he exited his room, but there was another hallway to the right. That was the way he'd go.

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