Kurama sighed as he closed his journal, sticking the pen into the spiral binding. He couldn't help but worry about leaving Kuronue and Ginji to find their ways here. Kuronue not so much, knowing he could take care of himself. Ginji, on the other hand... He had no idea if the boy was capable of protecting himself or not.

Well, he'd find out tonight one way or another...

Standing from where he was sitting on his bed, Kurama pulled his slippers back on, tucking the journal back into the waistband of his pants, as well as the radio. He wanted to make sure he was ready for the two when they got here... He didn't want to waste any time. The sooner they found what they needed, like Kuro's pendant and some weapons, the sooner they could start searching for a way to leave this place...

“Where is that damn flashlight?!” Kuronue muttered to himself, shoving the remainder of the cookie that he was given into his mouth as he was quite nearly about to tear his room apart if the stupid thing didn’t show up sooner or later.

Finally spotting it once again placed under his pillow, he yanked it up into one hand and flipped it on, testing it against the walls, the window, and then over by the door before taking a step nearer to the bed. That Junior kid that he had met earlier that day had said something about using one of the railings on the bed as a weapon, right? Why not go for it?

Taking tight hold of the bars, he carefully twisted and tugged, wincing at the sound of a loud screech that emitted from the bars rubbing so tightly together. Soon however, he had freed one bar after having given it one last hard tug of which nearly sent him falling backwards in the process. “That was too easy. Wonder how well this piece of crap will hold up…” he mused to himself, turning with flashlight and railing in both hands. That was all that he needed, right?

Soon he was off down the hallway, running—not walking—for he wanted to get to where he needed to be as quickly as he could.

[Moving quickly out of the block and to [here]]

At least Crane felt he was more prepared for the second group. Files could only tell you so much, after all, and he hadn't expected the attitudes that some of them had had. But people were people, all different and firm in the belief that they weren't insane. Crane figured he just needed to get used to doing therapy again. Anything fairly recent and previously done at Arkham had been a formality for the mob and nothing had really gotten accomplished. Not that it would have, anyway; the men had been mentally sound, and fully aware of what they were doing. He had been toying with the idea of incorporating them into his experiments, as well, but then things had picked up quicker than expected, and now...well, he was here.

The doctor's own lunch had been spent in his office, preparing for the second group, looking through the files, and making some notes on the files from the first group of patients. He couldn't quite help but feel like the institute was foisting all the trouble-patients and the ones with an attitude on him, since there was yet another one who had been put in solitary a few days prior, but he couldn't let that get to him. Just get the therapy done, move on, and brainstorm how to make these sessions run smoother with the most worthwhile results.

(( For Albedo, Scholar Ling, Hojo, Kuronue, Karasu, Brock, and Azel ))

While Arts and Crafts wasn't all that bad, Gray Fox was greatly relieved when an intercom announced Lunch. He had almost reached the point where he was going to start eating more of the building materials.

Hamburgers. Not his first choice but he was by no means about to complain. Keeping his eyes on the so-far empty room, Fox made his way over to start the line and get his burger. Haphazardly picking out what he wanted to be on it. He wasn't a very picky eater, and, truthfully, he didn't think it was possible for a FOXHOUND agent to be a picky eater, at least, not after survival training.

The food actually did smell very good, despite coming from a cafeteria, and a hospital cafeteria at that. He took a seat that was near one of the walls and very quickly started in on his burger.

It had been difficult to figure out how many patients there were, since more had continually been brought into the arts and crafts room from somewhere else, but now, he had the feeling he'd be able to see just how large the patient population was.

And that man who looked like Snake would be here as well, hopefully.

That had been unpleasant.

Grimacing to himself, Kadaj followed his nurse to the arts & crafts room in relative silence, head down and arms crossed over his chest as he trudged slowly forward. It wasn't so much the incident during breakfast that was bothering him, and in fact if anything he thought it was absolutely hilarious, but arguing with what seemed like half the population of Landel's on the bulletin board hadn't really done much to improve his state of mind. Not much really did.

At least Yazoo was here now. That was something. Unfortunately, the other silver-haired man wasn't in the same group as Kadaj so it would be awhile yet before he got to talk to him again. Horrible thought, to be split up from him after they'd only just been (HA) reunited, but Landel's had probably planned it that way. They would, after keeping him away from his family for so long. And where was Loz?!

He was getting angry again. Shutting his eyes tightly for a moment, he didn't realize they had arrived at their destination until the nurse gently called his name to get his attention. His eyes snapped open again, and after giving her a vicious glare, he stalked into the room and found a nice, secluded area to sit in, utterly baffled at the presence of... candy and frosting?! Just what the hell were they planning?! Well, he wasn't going to fall victim to it, whatever it was. They could try this on someone else.

Letting out a long, drawn out sigh, he closed his eyes again and made an effort to compose himself. The more unstable he became, the more childish he became, and it was all too likely he'd lash out at the first person who talked to him. He couldn't let that happen. Mother would be disappointed. Yes. He had to think of her. She wouldn't want him to let the people here get to him. He would persevere. She'd be so proud when she saw him again. Ha ha...

A much more familiar expression of smug self-assurance began to creep onto his features, and he let it slowly grow until he at least looked like his usual self. There, see? All better.

Scar felt as if he'd passed out as soon as he'd gotten to his bed due to the admittedly strong fatigue and pain that having a badly injured arm tended to cause a person to feel, even one as conditioned and battle-worn as the stern-faced Ishbalan. He woke up feeling rested but regretful, and his fear that he'd wasted a Nightshift ripe with the possibility of discovered items and means of escape was confirmed as the intercom's metallic voice came forth and a bright-faced nurse opened the door and beckoned him towards the burly orderlies who were supposed to take him to breakfast.

The Ishbalan frowned a deep, dark frown. He wasn't quite sure if he could count the shameful number of days that he'd spent like an animal in a cage, and at this point, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

He'd been tired lately, after all; perhaps some of the sentiment of hopelessness that certain other patients tended to exude was contagious for those who had seen more than their fair share of life and its losses. But no; simply wading in self-pity was no way to get things done; to use one's own self-loathing and use it as a motivation in the struggle for redemption--that was the salvation that Scar truly sought. Last night had fallen victim to physical exhaustion, but tonight he would increase his efforts tenfold to make up for the lapse into lethargy.

First, however--pancakes.

The days of the breadbasket seemed to be long gone as Scar entered the near-empty cafeteria with some feeling of foreboding that he was the first one to get his meal and sit down. He'd gotten pancakes and sausage, and more than a few fruits, not for the fact that he especially trusted the food here but for the fact that fresh goods had been few and far in between upon the harsh lands of Ishbal.

Scar's red eyes darted from the nearest nurse to the main entrance, and with hunger and thirst that no logic could quench, began starting in on the food.

Kuronue angrily passed through the dark hallway, having moved his light upon each room as he pass, a part of him tempted to check the rooms for anything useful while the other part of him urged him onward. His room had nothing of worth in it, so why should any of the other rooms? Unless…

He shook the thought off, shoving the door open after having found his way away from the many rooms and out of the area in itself. He would have plenty of time to ransack any and every room once he figured out what exactly was going on. His eyes scanned the hallway, from the door to his right, to the longer extension of hallway leading to yet another door at the very end. The problem was deciding which direction to turn and head off.

Turning toward the door at the longer end of the hallway, he moved a hand up to warily scratch his head, slowly padding toward it before turning to glance back at the other door. Everything was so unnervingly quiet that he was sure he could hear a pin drop and it would seem rather loud. Which way… which way…

"Heh," the voice of the Head Doctor came through the static with a slight bite to it. "No point in being cryptic now. Night's almost over, after all! And you all should be thankful for that, believe you me..."

The doctor coughed, then cleared his throat as the rustling of papers could be heard.

"Allen Carter, Sarah Johnsen, Gina Torres, Raymond Turner, and Max Watson are all new fowl to be slain, new birds to be roasted. Heh. Say grace for them."

The intercom clicked off again.