"Hold on a second. I want to check something."

Lunge paused in front of the book store, frowning a little. He'd looked in the little shop a couple of times, just to get a better sense of Doyleton as a whole, but had yet to explore inside properly- understanding Doyleton hadn't especially been high on his list of priorities, but after their conversation last night he found himself curious about a few details here and there. It didn't seem that L had any plans for the rest of the day, so there wouldn't be any harm in stopping in to chase up his hunches.

'Artificial'. What did that mean, precisely? Precision, that was what they needed now, hard evidence instead of aimless, endless stabbing and theorising. It was also exactly what they were lacking. What constituted evidence in a place where everything experienced around you seemed to fall to the whims of one man and his computer?

Ah. Not quite one man. Aguilar apparently had at least one man under him to do the less notable jobs, like working the intercom back at the Institute. At any rate, it was likely that their reality was just so easily moulded as it had been before. It would be interesting to see how far that applied to Doyleton, if they peeled back the corners and took a good, hard look at what lay beneath the obvious. Details, details; the people seemed genuine enough at a glance, but what about after an interview? And the books? He hadn't yet found a town that didn't pride itself on the single non-fiction novel written about it, its heritage. But did this town even have a heritage? Or was it purely the invention of two men, Landel and the man it was potentially named for?

A gust of wind ripped past his cheeks, chilling the Inspector to the core even through his heavy coat. He hadn't felt especially bad leaving Edgar at the Twin Pines- he'd lived through his own session, after all, and they weren't ever fatal- but even so he couldn't help but think that the cold would hardly be what the man needed.

Pushing the door open, he held it aside for L to head in before him. Silently, he wondered if they were thinking the same thing- they were generally on the same page for the most part, but occasionally it felt as though he were somehow working lightyears ahead of him, consuming and digesting information at an unthinkable rate. Most of the time, though, it was clear that the man was just as in the dark as he was.

[TEAM LARS VS HARRISON FORD THE FIRST, GET]

Erika had no interest of going out in the courtyard, where it was snowing. Snow meant that it was cold, wet, and exceedingly unpleasant, so when she was presented with the option, she refused at light speed. Unfortunately, she also wasn't one of the lucky ones who got to roam freely, so the Sun Room was the only option left. Erika supposed it wasn't so bad, since she had business there. And the first order of business was on the bulletin, where she went about her daily task of reading everyone else’s messages before reading her own, because it was left up in a public space and that meant she had every right to read it. It helped her kill time while she waited for her mysterious “friend” to show up, at least.

There were few in this place who would recognize her signature, and it was very odd that this person didn’t want to name themselves on this board. In fact, that whole conversation had been a little odd… The person knew her, but Erika had the feeling that she didn’t know them. It was just a feeling she had, since there was really nothing in their conversation that hinted towards that. Still, it was just odd to her that this person refused to name themselves on the board, yet was willing to arrange a meeting. She supposed it was just something that would be better explained in person, though Erika couldn’t imagine what that was. It wasn’t like she minded a face to face meeting, anyway.

Since this person knew who she was, that hopefully meant they knew what she looked like, so all Erika could do was wait patiently for her “guest” to show up. In the meantime, she was more than happy to bully stupid people on the bulletin to pass her time, like that moron who threw juice at her hair. Oh, she was going to have fun with him…

It would have been very hard for anyone to miss the sight of Erika making creepy faces at the bulletin board.

[ hi lion…. ]

After what seemed like an eternity of being amused, irritable, bored, in pain, in excruciating pain, and any combination of those, Guybrush was met by the same soldier who had led him to the cafeteria. He wasn't offered a trip to the Sun Room to check the bulletin board, but didn't push for it anyway. That would have been more walking, and moving was one of those many, many physical activities he didn't feel like doing in any capacity. Not today... or until next week, or whenever he'd stop feeling like he'd been on a date with a rough manatee named Large Marge. There was a slow minute of him feebly getting to his feet, then he followed the soldier without comment.

The comment came when Guybrush was handed a leather jacket on his way out the door. "A fine leather jacket... hah." He hissed as he pushed his right arm through the sleeve, settling to just leave the left draped over his shoulder. It was then he noticed the embroidery. At least Aguilar had a decent budget for clothing. If the pants worked, he'd be set.

There was something to be said about the General's methods, though. Why make the people who hadn't been in the food fight do the cleaning, while letting the guilty ones stand around? Sure, he wanted everyone to know who was responsible for the punishment, but wouldn't that just-

Oh. Wow, now that was a new level of crafty manipulation. Even LeChuck could be proud of it, if he wasn't behind it in some way. His disappearance made it possible- even probable- that his showing-up-and-playing-innocent-human-kidnapee routine had been an elaborate rouse, one even more diabolical than creating a carnival with which to recruit unsuspecting tourists into his undead army, more time-consuming than using a Mighty Pirate™ to look for a voodoo-sucking sea sponge so he could... get his mojo back? Oh yeah- Guybrush had died before that one reached Chapter 5. But if Landel's Institute was something LeChuck had cooked up so he could woo Elaine From The Past and change the future, then it was way, way more complex than his previous schemes.

And if it wasn't some incredible plot LeChuck had hatched because he finally grew tired of having his plans foiled? That made things even more complicated.

Guybrush made his way toward one of the benches, sprawling across it as he leaned his head against the backrest. Was the wall higher today? Maybe that was the aching in his chest talking. Either way, he didn't think he'd be going over it in an attempt to Escape from Aguilar's Institute™ that night unless they added a wheelchair ramp.

[Morgan]

Light snowfall marked the beginning of the morning, accompanied by a strange sort of quiet. The usual announcements that came at this time were nowhere to be heard. Thus, one might have expected the institute to have its first peaceful morning, uninterrupted by voices overhead.

No one, therefore, probably expected the rude awakening.

Soldiers lined the corridors within the patient blocks and proceeded to enter into the rooms unannounced. Their orders were simple: get every patient awake and to the cafeteria as quickly and efficiently as possible. There was to be no dawdling, no delay; there was work to be done and an entire population to force it upon.

Upon entering the cafeteria, an individual might have noticed the differences immediately. For one, there existed neither smell nor sight of food. For another, every inch of space along the cafeteria wall was taken up by soldiers: burly figures in unmarked black uniforms carrying rifles at their side. Finally, at the center of room was a pile of cleaning supplies. Dust mops, dustpans, brooms, scrubbers, plastic pails of warm soap water, rags--there seemed no end to their number, almost as if the military was expecting a large group of cleaners.

An officer, differentiated from the others by her uniform and stern demeanor, stepped forward as soon as the crowd settled. She then clapped her hands to call their attention. "Since you obviously have no desire for food and would rather use them as weapons," the woman started, her voice surprisingly monotone for the sarcasm displayed, "we won't bother wasting your time by having you eat this morning."

Here, she gestured to the supplies at the center of the room. Her gaze turned sharp. "We wasted our time by cleaning up after your mess," she continued. "It's only fair you do your part now. Those who have participated in yesterday's insubordination, however, do not get to help. Instead, you will stay as you are and allow everyone a chance to see exactly who is responsible for their punishment."

There was a brief pause as the orders sunk in. "By the end of this shift, I want to see my reflection on the floor. Get to work."

The cafeteria doors slammed shut, signaling the start of the task.

[ Please refer to this post for how to handle the next shift. Also, NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS are free to reply to this with their introduction post. Please have your character wake up in a random room if we have not yet assigned them. Thank you! ]