With sigh that toed the ambiguous no-mans-land between soft and explosive, Yuffie collected a plateful of waffles with all the toppings. She was sure that, if nothing else, it'd making a pretty satisfying splat if—when?—she launched it at somebody's face, and that was all that counted.

"Hanna, isn't that a little much?" Plucky asked, doubtfully.

"Uhhm. No. About, like... a little while ago, I managed five caramel apple pies with ice cream and berries and, y'know, I think there was a gallon of soda involved at some point." It wasn't the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. There really had been five caramel apple pies, but Cloud had ended up wearing two and a half and the third had taken a vacation to Boobsville (Tifa had loved it. Really. Really). The moral of the story (as she'd told Marlene and Denzel later) was that anything was game, just as long as you could run fast enough afterwards.

The nurse nodded slowly. "I… suppose. Well, I'll leave you to it. See that you behave, won't you, dear? You need to set a good example for the new batch of patients."

"My examples are the best examples," Yuffie proclaimed, with the dark-bright grin that still came so easily, no matter how little she felt really felt it. It lingered even when the nurse had flitted off to deal with another charge, but there was an edge to it. What the edge was, Yuffie couldn't say. Didn't want to say, after what'd gone down last night. Nah, she had better things to do; things like sitting down and waiting, just waiting, for Cloud or some other sucker of an easy target to walk through the door.

[HARLEY HARTWELL o/]

[M85]

One ominous announcement from De Landel later, Guybrush was ready to bolt out the door, pausing only to take one more quick bite of his meal. He grabbed the doorknob dramatically, showing that door that he meant business. Elaine was out there somewhere, kidnapped and helpless and possibly being tortured in some horrible way...

All right, maybe not those last two. Even with the sole thought of rescuing his beloved Plunderbunny on the brain, Guybrush could admit that "helpless" was never an accurate way to describe Elaine. She always knew just what to do, and when to do it so it would be either the most beneficial or would move the plot along. Then again, she did have her occasional misstep, and in the rare occasion something was out of her control, it was always monumentally bad.

He couldn't wait any longer. He was not willing to lose her again.

He stepped out and slammed the door shut, only to open it a second later. "Sorrytocuttheconversationshortgottorescuemywifehavefunnotdying," he called to Scott before slamming the door a second time.

[To here.]

[from here]

It was a race. A fight against patience and a Song's call. Still, the sedation's dredges churned through him. Two close at hand had a potent effect--much like the night that they were left in that town, and the morning after. Rubedo had came then. Came for them like something out of place, and wasn't that so ironic afterwards--when Albedo knew what he knew now? How many times would a twin appear to abandon him to harshly? How many times would Rubedo make promises only to break them--tear them to pieces like he did Albedo--in the perfectly precise way of those who knew how to break you down because they knew you so perfectly.

Was that how Rubedo had killed him? Or had Albedo forced him to it? His twin wouldn't say before, and asking now was too much like dead blood rotting in veins--he no longer cared, no longer needed to know how easily it was for his twin to rip him asunder. How joyous Rubedo must have been. If that night was any hint, his twin hated him with a passion to rival man's hatred toward god. And wasn't it the same. This. In ways it was the same. An existence meted out, for what it's worth, and then you were simply trapped in it. Trapped in it and stuck stagnant where you were, bound by that other, unless you forced your hatred forward to strike down the other.

To kill god? It seemed too quaint to entertain.

Be it that he woke as the last shift was ending, Albedo had been escorted to the cafeteria early. He took what was offered without a word, sat in the back without a sound, and sipped at the water put in front of him politely; a hand curled around the cup lightly, fingers loose. Eyes burned into the entrance--for Nigredo or Rubedo, either would suffice. The doubt that his twin would come to him was faulty--to ignore them for a week and then vanish as if they were nothing spoke of only distain, whatever Nigredo chose to believe. The eldest of them hated them both. This was truth. The only truth that Rubedo had shown Albedo, in thought, word, action, and deed, in the two weeks that they had shared here.

So Rubedo was to kill him. Well. Never say Albedo accepted his destiny. Yes, he would die by his twin's hand. But first he would rip Rubedo's throat out, claw out his eyes and press them into his beloved's mouth--see the lies you spew--lift his tenderly beating heart for all to see and then crush it.

This, Rubedo, is what you've done to me.

[...for the twin.]

[from here and waiting for the opposite one.~]

The hall was as empty as she had seen it. Silence glistened as severe as any palpable source. Voices echoed in the distance, but here there was nothing. No one. No sounds, but the dull creaks of a settling building and shifting ghosts. Last night gave rise to a new awareness. She did not take the emptiness at face value, did not trust the lack of others for what it was. The one on the board had offered the possibility of a monster, but Rei knew the feel of another body against her.

No, her assailant had been human. This remained fact. Over the edge of her plug suit, the bandage felt heavy. Weighted. A reminder to be productive if nothing else. She needed no other reason to devalue her own worth.

[down to here]

[from here]

The lurch of nausea was no more welcome than the night before, though by now it had become familiar and expected. The moment his feet touched sold ground again, he darted around his meat shield and tried to bring the back of the chainsaw down against Uke-kun's temple. Between the sudden shift and the previous attacks there was a chance of it working, but even if it didn't... that wasn't a problem.

The office itself was noted only peripherally. If there were other predators present, they would just have to wait their turn. (As if monsters really had a sense of propriety.) So many things could go wrong. Despite the payoff it was a relatively sloppy, dangerous move but caution and patience were things of the past.

[From here]

Unlike the western section, the central portion of this hallway was completely deserted. On any other night, von Karma would have used this to his advantage to arrive at one of the upstairs locations before anyone else did. The Janitor's Closet, for one, contained a large cache of metal that he could use to compensate Mr. Geeste for the work he would do for him three nights later.

But for now, von Karma merely had to go as far as the very first doorway to his right, which led straight into Waiting Room 1. This was far more important -- though less pleasant -- than his prospective metal scavenger hunt. Besides, by the time he had replied to Mr. Geeste's notice, Ms. Taura had already accepted an assignment from that blasted History Club. He would simply have to try to contact her tomorrow morning as soon as possible before she could accept another one.

Shaking his head, von Karma turned the door knob, expecting to have to jimmy it open, but instead discovering that the door wasn't locked after all.

[To here (with Court's permission to just go on ahead <3 ) ]

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]

[M85]

All right! One pair of sweats and two pairs of underpants later, and Guybrush had an ingenious way to carry everything he needed. "Just one more thing," he said to himself as he wrapped the pants-sash over his shoulder like a beauty pageant winner. Grabbing his beloved shovel, he carefully slid the long handle through the loops provided by the knotted undergarments. The shovel stayed in place, strapped to his back.

"Hah! Take that, broken clothing! Guybrush: one, clothing: three! Or maybe four. Close enough." He beamed at his own resourcefulness, proud of his major achievement so early in the evening. Sure, it looked a little silly (and his nurse was going to throw a fit if inexplicably he ran out of underwear in the middle of the week), but it was practical. No more juggling to carry everything- the shovel could go on his back, sword in his hand, and flashlight carried in his hook.

Pleased with his new invention, he had one more quick task before he could depart. "Well Scott," Guybrush said, turning to his still-sleeping roommate, "It's been great catching up with you, but I've got a sword to return. You sure you're going to be all right by yourself in here?"

Continued snoozing from the mighty bassist. "Hopefully, the room won't set itself ablaze and you won't die a painful, fiery death. Or maybe you'll wake up if that does happen. Either way, I'll probably come back here after I swing by Javert's. You know, just to make sure."

With that, Guybrush snatched the flashlight from atop his desk and headed out the door.

[The Dread Pirate LeChuck!]

[from here]

The hallway wasn't yet full of the activity Minato was used to seeing at night. Somewhat tired from the walking around town, he mused that he could have gotten a few more minutes of sleep tonight, or even more if he hadn't taken his time eating dinner. He paused for a moment, staring upward as he heard a roll of thunder somewhere overhead beyond the sound of rain on the roof. At least the weather hadn't devolved into thunderstorms while they were still out at the town.

Lowering his free hand from where he had been following along the wall, he reached for and flicked on his flashlight. Time to get moving.

[Unexpectedly waiting for a date with MuRaki]

One down and one more to go before the long weekend hit. Jizabel thought it would be best if Dr. Disraeli left the confines of his office to be social once again. He couldn't very well learn anything of his fellow peers if he stayed in his office all the time, and besides that his last venture to the Patio had proven an entertaining experience. Perhaps Professor Washu would like to dance across her tabletop this time. Or at the very least she could shout at the sky once more for effect.

No one greeted him as he exited into the open air proving him as the first to arrive. He could very well be the last to leave as well should no one else show up. They were free to go and come as they pleased between sessions, and the remaining doctors could just as well take their lunch break indoors. Jizabel, however, preferred the clean feel of the open air to the stuffy room that was his office. He preferred it to any interior of a building crafted by man, seeing the sky without anything to obstruct the view. Just as nature had intended.

The morning was filled with a kind of dark, weary anticipation. If there were more vermin in his office the night before, Muraki either didn't notice or didn't care. He sat comfortably behind his desk thumbing through one of his research books, making small notes here and there on the usually blank pieces of paper.

He'd stripped out of his suit jacket and tie, leaving his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. A large mug of coffee sat beside him, already mostly empty. It was the only evidence of hard work to be seen, as the room itself looked and felt perfectly normal.

At least, it would to his witless patients. The preparations weren't to take effect until well into the evening, when the real entertainment would begin. For now, he would have to settle for the smaller amusements. He remembered these two patients after all.

Muraki turned the page and read while he waited.

It was always a little bit awkward for new patients to become accustomed to him. Muraki wasn't thrilled about the meeting himself, intriguing as said patient was. Just for today he would have preferred to spend his lunch with the other doctors. There was something he would love to discuss with them in such a neutral setting.

Unfortunately, there was always other business to look after.

As he had to remind himself more and more lately, he did have to do some actual work sometimes. The doctor rested his chin on his fingertips and tried not to look bored. The smells of cigarettes and coffee hung in the air, the only remnants of a quick lunch. It wasn't really the patient. He'd just become...disenchanted.

Andrew would be there soon. The doctor waited.

There were no late nights or lazy mornings this time. Early as it was, Muraki's day looked like it would be surprisingly normal. It was a light schedule today; he was expecting Jordan soon, and another new boy during lunch, then he would be home early to sort out certain affairs. Completely, utterly normal.

He rested behind his desk, legs folded at the knee, fingers laced across his thigh. That pose was so automatic now it was just that: a pose. The only sign of life was the way he leaned back heavily against the chair, his expression warring between melancholy and apathy. Maybe his hands were paler too. He wouldn't have noticed just then.

The candy dish had reappeared, in case Jordan favoured sweets. He did like the boy. Cute, trusting, more than a little bit twisted up but not so broken. A smile graced his features when he heard the footsteps from outside. When the door opened, the mask too would reappear.

There were other things missing from his office. Muraki didn't pay much attention to them - even the books were just distracting things and decoration with no real purpose - but he knew that they were gone. Curious. He was sure the other things would turn up again someplace interesting.

After a quick lunch in his office he got ready for his next patient. It was mildly disappointing to know he hadn't gotten the older Li brother as well, but only mildly because the older boy possessed few of the traits Muraki found to be so...entertaining in Sean.

It was be just as well. He'd never get any real work done if he played with all of his sweet dolls until they broke. And wasn't there enough going on to state his appetite for a while?

The doctor crossed over to the door and waited patiently for the nurse to lead Sean into the room. Ever the gentleman, he didn't want one of his favourites to be escorted to his chair by anyone else.

There really was no rest for the wicked. Muraki had gotten up early again that morning to look over files, and after his usual late nights it was hardly something that brought him a great deal of joy. But that was work and he'd gotten used to much worse in his first few months as a doctor. In truth, he was looking forward to seeing his old patients again. The thought brought a small, sharp smile to his lips.

But that was later in the day, according to his schedule. First he found the shelf he knew would be empty and ran his fingers across the slightly dusty surface. A mouse had been in his office. How long would it be, he wondered, before it realized it had stepped into a trap? He blew the traces of dust off his fingers and got ready for work.

He had a chair brought into his office for the new patient, set in front of his desk like the last time. It wouldn't do to advance too quickly on a skittish new foal. At least this one had chosen an imaginary name that was similar to the real; there might be some helping him yet. There was nothing Muraki enjoyed more than a pliant young mind. They were especially interesting to bend.

He waited in his chair, his posture as impeccable as ever. His arms rested comfortably on the desk for once, the only testament to the weariness a cup of coffee hadn't been able to banish. A small, innocent-looking bowl of multicoloured candies sat on the corner of his desk. All he had to do now was wait.

There was a rose on his desk. A large flower the colour of fresh blood, so fragrant and soft it seemed to mask the usual cigarette smoke and sterile impersonality of the room. Where it had come from, the doctor would not say. A gift, maybe. A smile and shrug.

But on to more pressing matters. He had one patient file and two patients, which certainly didn't bring him anything but mild annoyance. He was the sort of man who prided himself on being a few steps ahead of all his patients, to choose the perfect poison, to catch them when they fell down into hell.

This one was of particular annoyance because Muraki quite enjoyed the boy and his roommate and their little bargain. This would make things dangerous and interesting, wouldn't it? The good doctor leaned back in his chair.

Come.

It was finally time to be social. And not eat alone in his office.

There had been no parties celebrating his induction into the Landel's staff, there hadn't been much interaction with his fellow doctors.. it seemed like just another workplace, and Dr. Hatori Sohma supposed that was alright with him. There was only one person whose fanfare he put up with, two people if high school girls were involved, and neither of them would show up in America at a time like this.

As for a meal, he had been presented with two burgers. They were fresh from Tasty Burger, the fast food restaurant that had dominated his dinners recently, delivered by a nurse that he hadn't really noticed before. Or maybe he had. They all looked somewhat similar to him, the younger ones anyway. Maybe that had been the person who was decorating his office against his will. Who could say? It didn't matter too much, anyway.

The patio was clean and looked nice, and he was actually rather pleased that there were umbrellas for the sun. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to eat two, so he just kind of stared at the burgers (and matching fries) in front of him as he sat at a patio table rather near the corner.

Ah, Muraki's wrist hurt.

It had been braced and treated meticulously since the day before, now only half-hidden beneath the sleeve of his shirt. His foot wasn't fairing much better but it was easier to conceal one injury with the other, to smile and thank the nurses for their concern. For all they knew, he could have broken his wrist trying to rescue a puppy.

A little brown bottle rolled back and forth along his fingers, causing little spikes of fresh pain. He turned the page with his left hand, and smiled with a cold, empty pleasure. To think he got to see his dear Uke-kun again today.

He let the little bottle roll off his fingertips into the garbage. They really let him have a little too much fun.

It looked like he would be seeing two more children this morning. Muraki wondered vaguely if this should be an homage to his years as a pediatrician or just a treat to keep him interested in his work for a while longer. At any rate, he wasn't complaining. Working with children kept him young; they were small but endlessly pliant.

Speaking of plaint, he couldn't help but think back on his last few sessions. They'd all been so very...interesting in their own way. He could only hope today's batch proved to be more of the same.

But he had a few minutes before they came in for therapy. Muraki arranged a chair in front of his desk, then took a seat behind it while he finished his cigarette. Tea was once again laid out, the aromas mixing in a way that was not unpleasant.

He pinched his cigarette out and tossed it in the trash. It would really be a shame if they didn't appreciate the work.

This time, there was food on the desk. The tea set had been replaced with a slim pair of chopsticks and a bento box and the room itself smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. How he'd managed to distill the scent in the time between shifts was any one's guess.

Muraki sat behind his desk again, head tilted upward. The knife wound was acting up again. He smiled a little. "Tsuzuki-san..."

There was only one doll remaining. Veronica, with large brown eyes and a hairline fracture across her cheek. The rest of his vast collection had been left in Japan. If he decided to retrieve them now it would take a lot of legal smokescreening and he no longer had that easy, tenuous connection that would make things as simple as a phone call. He'd exhausted nearly all of his resources in that final effort and now it began again with nothing.

He could not go back.

So what was he looking for in this place? Dr. Muraki crossed his legs and rested his arms on the table. As always, it was just a matter of waiting, wasn't it?