[From here.]

While it was his first time heading up the stairs, Castiel felt no trepidation. Even if he was alone and it was deathly quiet, he was used to unsettling situations and saw no reason to slow his march upward. Though at the sound of footsteps, he did glance over his shoulder for a split second, to see another patient who was taking the same path as him.

Not completely alone, then, and yet Castiel saw no reason to call out to the man. Even though he did take note of the coat he was wearing, immediately being reminded of his own.

Not, it wasn't his; it had been Jimmy Novac's, but that had been in another time and place.

Turning his gaze forward again, Castiel continued to climb up. He would find the chapel in one way or another.

[from here with Spock]

The doctor jerked with surprise. Spock seemed to appear right at his elbow, and he'd be damned if his heart hadn't set to racing. He'd just been just starting to think that maybe that encounter with that statue was a fluke, and there'd be no surprises down here, and then that damned Vulcan had to go ahead and see if he could put him into his grave early. Where did he even learn that?

"Would you stop sneaking up on me?!" groused McCoy. Bad enough this wasn't the first time that Spock's appearance had him unsettled, but this time, maybe he could attribute it to that blasted angel.

He turned, and for an answer, started up the stairs, flashlight aimed up ahead. He glanced back at Spock out of the corner of his eye as they climbed. Spock looked well enough despite what Jim had told him. Looks could be deceiving though. Even if the institute's accelerated healing had worked, or whatever technology they used, it wouldn't erase the emotional trauma. Spock could swear all night long that Vulcans didn't have the capacity to experience that, but he knew better. McCoy would be happier if he could examine him, but this wasn't the time and place to carry that out.

Later. You aren't getting out of an exam that easy, he thought.

[To here]

"Made it..." She whispered triumphantly as she walked quietly into the dark and quiet hallway first. It was hard to decide where the best place would be to stand since once others began to flood in, Asuka could easily be overshadowed by the taller adults. "Hmmm..." The best she could guess was to hug the opposite wall by the doorway and hope she would pick out the two members once they entered.

Remember, Asuka, you aren't the veteran here.

This wasn't NERV anymore. She had no one under her to display her impressive and extensive training to. The redhead was a newbie like the ones she was going to be working with, though perhaps a bit more intelligent. This first mission was important for popularity's sake. She needed to play nice for now, gauge their strengths and weaknesses until she knew who she could topple the easiest.

[Waiting on Agatha and Zevran]

[from here]

The unavoidable truth was that Mello wasn't positive Matt had anything to gain from an escape. He'd heard over and over again, and seen the evidence himself, that people who were 'released' had no memories of the place, and the question of whether you could change something that had already happened if you did remember enough was the brunet's area of interest, not Mello's. It hadn't been until now, anyway.

"Why'd you help me, back home?" He'd been avoiding asking that question, which by its very nature implied an uncertainty he'd been trying his best to mask. No reason to do that anymore. It had been five years, almost to the day, now, for Mello, since he'd left without saying goodbye. He probably would've laughed out loud at anyone who'd called him after all that time and asked for a hand. Not that Mello would have asked. Hell, he'd probably started off that exchange with 'How fast can you get here?'

Somehow, after their talk in the chapel, Elaine felt simultaneously more accepting of and more irritated by her future husband. On the one hand, seven years had clearly been good to him. He seemed more sincere and thoughtful than he had been before his disappearance, and he had a more mature (dare she say, handsome?) look to him. On the other hand, there were clearly some things that made even time throw up its hands in vain and say, "To hell with this!" Guybrush was still inexorably prone to disastrous accidents if the story about the Pox of LeChuck was anything to go by, and he was so obviously keeping something important from her that any passing dolt in the Institute would have been able to tell. In the end, that eternal underlying sweetness of his that won out, keeping her from punching him again, at least. That was only by a hairs width, though. Her snugglecakes was going to have to stay on his best behaviour if he knew what was good for him.

She left the Mighty Pirate™ alone for the time being when the announcement of the next shift went off. He would want some time to catch up with Morgan next, presumably. As much as the woman's attitude bothered her, she was a friend of Guybrush's, as she had claimed. Elaine could be strict, but she wasn't the kind of shrewish future wife/past fiancé who would keep her man from seeing his friends. Besides, she needed some more time to catch up on the goings-on of the Institute. Patients filled the building to the brim, now, it seemed; there would be a lot to investigate.

After a few quick trips back and forth to the bulletin and a few new leads to follow up on, the governor gave in to her nurse's persistent nagging and headed to the cafeteria for brunch. After the relatively light fare of the day before, Elaine took advantage of the Institute's admittedly scrumptious offerings and loaded up a full, balanced brunchfast of eggs, sausage links, waffles, and vegetable soup. As expected, the selection of drinks did not offer either root beer or grog. Grog she could live without, at least, she thought while making a face. Eugh. For now, she settled for a tall glass of water.

Elaine settled into a seat in the cafeteria and tucked into her meal. Her eyes didn't stay on her food, though, instead gazing around restlessly; she hadn't seen LeChuck so far this morning, and god forbid he wanted to invite himself to brunch with her if he chose now to show up. A certain horribly unpleasant dinner on Mêlée Island came to mind. She was prepared to either move at the first sign of the dread pirate or signal a random stranger to sit with her before he could.

[For Dean]

[From here]

This time the room was larger, and with a decor that seemed out of place from the rest of the Institute. Granted, Mihai could hardly say he'd explored the entirety of the hospital, but he had a bit of experience going to them in general, enough to know that rooms rarely deviated from the state of drab sterility that was the norm. This place, however, looked as if it had been meant to be warm and inviting in its day; one that had long gone by, if its wrecked condition was any indication. Maybe the only benefit was the proximity to the outside, although Mihai already doubted they could actually make it there, particularly if they intended to. Not that it was entirely a bad thing; he really didn't want to go out in the rain.

"I'm really not sure where we are now." But the furnishings might reveal their own surprises, and Mihai stepped further in after sweeping the room with his light. He moved to one structure in particular, another that seemed to be designed to proudly display its universal purpose, regardless of what adornments each individual piece might have. The debris wasn't so easy to cross, but the reward worth the effort. He let out a low laugh as he turned to Reeve, hoping that he might be of similar mind on the subject.

"We ended up in a place with a bar." And while Mihai wasn't suggesting getting drunk then, he certainly saw nothing wrong in taking a bottle or two along. Mini-bottles in particular would travel well, though a larger container of well-aged scotch also tempted. If Badou could have his cigarettes--ah, maybe Mihai should look for those as well--then certainly the universe wouldn't begrudge Mihai an indulgence of his own?

[From here.]

"Where—" Reeve began, but his words caught in his throat as he stepped into the hall. Or rather, what was not the hall. He cast his flashlight beam into the corners of the room, and found the space tight, constricted and limited. His thoughts became a jumble as he rearranged his expectations. This was the wrong place. In the dark, it hadn't been immediately noticeable, but now the obvious differences insulted and embarrassed him.

It was just a plain, dull room with colors that faded into the shadows. A round table, some chairs, all in a slightly unusual style. Reeve took several hesitant steps further in, staring at what he should not have been seeing. They had gone through the same door... hadn't they? There had been no other way out. What had just happened wasn't possible. Reeve felt his orientation start to fall apart, and frustration filled in the gaps. The more that he grasped for a reasonable explanation, the more ridiculous he felt. None of them satisfied him, and he recalled that Mihai had said that the oddly placed office was wrong. Reeve was ashamed to have dismissed him as insane, if he was suffering from the same delusions.

"You, ah, you said the office was not where it was supposed to be." It was a grossly understated reaction to the situation, but preferable to panic, he supposed.

[From here]

"Fierfek," 622 cursed softly as he stepped through the door, sighing. There wasn't any reason to try and hold the door to head back, it wouldn't help them. Instead of a corridor, they'd just stepped through into one of the doctor's offices. It was better than being dropped right into a crowd of hostiles, that was for sure, but still, it meant that no matter where they went, so long as there was a door they had to go through, they were hopelessly lost.

"I'm not sure if this makes me more credibly sane and competent or less so."

[From here]

As far as Yuffie could remember, the journey was a straight shot over to the central section of the main hallway; that'd put 'em directly across from the sun room, and then it'd be a quick right turn into the only door. Easy peasy. With her shuriken and the two SOLDIER dudes—Cloud totally still counted, only not—in tow, the little ninja led the way through the doom n' gloom.

Past the stairs, past the waiting room. There we go. "It's just through here," Yuffie said when they were close enough. "We'll be in the entry room. There's two file rooms, one on the left, one on the right."

[from here]

When he rounded the corner into the larger hallway, Kurogane determined to put the thoughts of being the only patient there aside. Even if that were the case, it didn't change his final goal for the night. The magician would have been helpful, but he was confident enough in his own ability to get things done.

Finding the feather remained a difficult task though. The basement had been less than helpful when it had come to locating the source of this place's power. But the third floor... no one had ever been able to reach it, yet they all knew it existed. The outside of the building proved enough. They just had to find the way to get up. If that meant forcing a hole through the floor, then fine, because right now it was the last place to go.

[gone here]

Once she'd found she wasn't in any danger whatsoever of hopping aboard the Pukemobile, Yuffie had gotten kinda peckish. She'd ditched the bagged breakfast ages ago, way back on the bus, and, haha, like hell was she trekking back over that way to get it. Too much to see in a town without a lot in it.

So, here she was. Sitting at a plastic table in a plastic chair, in the almost completely plastic 'Tasty Burger', with fries, chicken strips, and a banana shake to wash it down with. Yuffie wrinkled her nose, more put off by the Eastern-style 'meal' than the reproachful stares of the staff and patrons. The latter she was way, way more than used to. Came with the job description. All of the job descriptions.

"Should've gone to the Twin Pine," Yuffie muttered around the (plastic!) straw, slumping forward onto her damp, denim-clad elbows. Taking a long pull of vaguely banana-flavored gloop, she cast a deft, if bored, eye around the establishment. As always, she'd gone for the most strategic seat; one that let her see as much as possible, without cutting off her access to at least one viable escape route. Not that she wanted to look at the place. Eurgh.

It was still hard to reconcile how this place should have looked with how it did look. Quick repair jobs were one thing, but something about the set-up rubbed Yuffie the wrong way. It was the same the whole town over. Chips, here and there, cracks in windows and doodles on walls. But no scorch marks, no sign that there'd been a no-holds-barred battle tearing up the place from top to bottom. The residents were pissy and suspicious, but not in that way—not in a way that'd suggest they remembered what they'd done, what they'd turned into, and what the patients had done in return.

[Cloud and Nanaki~.]

With her torso wrapped once again to hide the disfigurement left behind from her hybridization, Teresa found she was the first in the showers. It figured that the handlers would take care of her and her... unsightly mark before anyone else had a chance to catch a glimpse. It wasn't as if Teresa cared, unless it was someone she knew personally, but she did not feel like complaining.

Standing under the cascading water, Teresa let her mind wander back to a time when she was but a whelp and snuck away from the barracks into the woods. To where the waterfall was.

[free]

You weren't so quick to gloat last night, asshole, Mello silently retorted as he listened to the announcement. He was in more of a hurry tonight than last, wanting to meet up with Teresa and get what they could from the doctor's computer, and still have time left over to get outside. He grabbed the pipe from its hiding place and pulled on his boots and coat, wondering, not for the first time, what percentage of the shit in the intercom announcements was designed for the sole purpose of fucking with the 'patients.' Was the doctor reading from a script written to dangle the possibility of someone else trying to defeat him? The infuriating thing was that even if there were a possibility it was all a setup, as long as it wasn't a certainty, Mello had to proceed as if there were something to it. He was still suspicious of the obviousness of the mention of the radio station, though, and in a hurry to boot, and decided the ability to swing the pipe freely outweighed the dubious possible usefulness of carting the radio around.

He hefted the pipe, grinning at the feel of its weight, and headed out of the room.

[To here]

Heat was able to ignore the still faintly throbbing spot on his head as he was led back into the cafeteria for another meal he had no intention of eating. He kept himself from rubbing at what he knew would be a small bump because dammit it didn't hurt that much. It was embarrassing, was what it was.

At the fishy odor filling the room when he entered, the demon wrinkled his nose. How that was supposed to be the slightest bit appealing he had no idea. Then again, it wasn't always the taste that mattered. Whatever this cod was, it could very well taste better than the rotting flesh he'd gotten down the night before.

His nurse made some comment about his lack of appetite, but he wasn't paying attention. She could eat his damn lunch if she was worried about it going to waste. It wasn't his fault they didn't inform their staff properly of their patients' eating habits. The room was fairly empty too, so Heat wasn't picky with where he sat. He just hoped one of his tribemates found him before he was stuck with some other pest for the duration of the meal.

[Sasuke?]

"Oh, deary me, it seems I'm running a bit late!" The Head Doctor's laugh was nervous, erratic. "Er – nurses, if you'd so kindly escort the patients to their next locations? That'll be the Recreational Field for the males and the Greenhouse for the females. Oh, and, patients should be taken to their specially assigned appointments, of course!

Steps came in, then out. The Head Doctor seemed to take a sip of something.

"Ah– Thanks, Lydia. Costa Rica blend is the good stuff, isn't it?"

His voice was muted as he took another sip. Then, he said: "And... I think that's all for now. I'll speak to you later!"

The intercom clicked off.