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/]

[M110 @ start]

Annoying, annoying, annoying, annoying. Dinner with that talkative idiot (if Shizuo hadn't been so hungry, after chucking breakfast and popping lunch, and if he hadn't been bizarrely able to hold back, even while irritated, he might've sent another tray flying). The voice in the air, the rude yawning start reminding him of what he'd woken up to that morning, coughing. Disgusting. Another announcement, cryptic and completely smug in the game it was about to play--Shizuo bet the flea was loving it. All that, and then he thought of the damn flea.

All that, and the guy who wouldn't shut up left the room, the door apparently unlocked and the hall dark beyond it. Still sitting at the desk, Shizuo stared at the door, remembering what the guy, Beelzemon, had said. Something about fighting after the lights went out, which made Beelzemon's baseball bat make a degree of sense. The guy had changed his clothes first, which really raised his ire, because in his closet there was only gray, gray, drab gray.

He didn't get it. He didn't understand a damn thing. Worse, it was as if with the unlocking of the door, something had clicked inside him as well. The new, coherent (even rational) voice in the back of his head disappeared; his frustration swelled in a familiar, consuming way. In the empty room, there wasn't anyone to smash. He let his breath out in a slow hiss, a deflating balloon, and muttered beneath his breath a stream of one word: Annoying.

But that word didn't come close to covering this shithole. Whatever, the door was open, he'd get out, he'd get out and find the guy responsible and kill him! Strangle him, rip him to pieces, throw him into a meat grinder! Then he'd find Izaya and punch him, too. Without ever finding the flashlight or thinking about the other shoe options, Shizuo strode into the dark hall, moving as if by sheer instinct immediately right, into the larger hall.

[to here]

[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]

Another bare hallway, Asuka observed once she poked her head out of the F-A block and shined her light back and forth. Even when she left her room rather promptly, there was almost always a handful of patients coming or going. Maybe she had just been way too uptight tonight for this mission. But was that such a terrible thing? This initiative clearly displayed her commitment to the club. The eva pilot had to show Okita that she was determined, that she showed leadership qualities so she could rise through the ranks. Higher rank gave her access to better resources, which got her closer to getting the hell out of this place.

No, there was nothing wrong with a little hustle at all. The other new members could learn from her, certainly. Keeping her objectives in sight, Asuka kept following the hallway until it split into the common area that most patients used to rendezvous with others.

[To here]

The intercom jingle was slightly different for this shift, almost as if it had gone up in quality. The Head Doctor gave a sigh of relief, his own voice clear as a bell despite the usual electronic buzz.

"Hello, everyone – from our new and improved intercom system! We've had electronics rehauling our circuitry, and you can hear the result quite nicely! A whole bunch of improvement! Right, anyway...

"As I'm sure you've noticed, we have a whole new bunch of patients that have joined us recently, and because of the changes in our roster, we've updated our roommate assignments, so some of you might be enjoying the company of someone entirely new tonight! Please be polite and friendly to anyone you might encounter!

"Which brings us to... dinner! Tonight, we'll be having a delicious 'bento box' meal consisting of fish and vegetable tempura along with chicken teriyaki, a bowl of steamed rice, miso soup, salad, and... green tea! Decaffeinated, of course. We can't have you bouncing from wall to wall when there's sleep to be had! Our usual assorted drinks and alternative meals are also available. Oh, and... dessert! Green tea ice cream, with a topping of red bean paste.

"I think that's all for now! I'll speak to you once more before bed time."

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. Please refer to the updated room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

[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.]

Scar possibly couldn't have been more thrilled at the prospect of being escorted to the library. He had visited this particular room plenty of times to know that it was entirely useless and uninteresting - like most daytime activities, for that matter. Still, the nurse seemed rather convinced he'd like one of those silly books filled with papers and papers of those silly symbols he could suddenly understand for reasons that still puzzled him. These symbols didn't quite tell him anything interesting either; if he'd wanted a silly story he'd listen to that senile baboon back home. Instead, he felt like he was particularly mocked with this activity. He had been blinded last night, only to be dragged over to something that required his eyesight as soon as it had returned.

Not caring whether he was taking the situation way too personal, the former lion opted for glaring to the spine of a book - with words reading 'Lolita' (whatever that may have meant) along with a name he didn't care the slightest bit about - as if everything had been its fault. The truth was that Scar was this close to snapping, and though breakfast had been a welcome distraction it hardly did anything to defuse his frustration and anger.

Especially because he had no idea when something like that would happen again. Or what else they had been doing to his head...

[For Naraku!]

How one's body could maintain a waking schedule when sleep came unnaturally and in a room without windows, must surely be a mystery. Yet, as if working on cue, Natalia stirred well before her nurse arrived. That was normal. Less so, the weight that sought to press her eyelids closed again, the heaviness of her limbs that made lifting her hands to her face an effort. She put her wrist to her forehead with a frown, then attempted a jolt of energy – to swiftly dig her hands into the mattress and shove herself into a seated position, and from there, to her feet.

Not to overexert herself once again, but to refuse that it could be possible after sleeping. Happily, though all still felt leaden, her head did not swim. Encouraged, Natalia put on her slippers, rearranged the bedding, and waited. There came the announcement (reminding her, suddenly, of what she had last heard, and the guilt that had twisted in her gut, Jill--), and her face wrinkled with disgust at the hacking sound. Therapy and breakfast. Food would surely help.

Natalia did not wait long before her nurse opened the door, and after exchanging cursory “Good Morning”s (with rather more enthusiasm on the other woman's part), they began the walk to the Cafeteria. With, of course, the essential rest room stop, where water was splashed and scrubbed over her face, and her hair toyed with to no great satisfaction. At least the shower had renewed its body.

Separating in the Cafeteria, Natalia took her place in line and loaded her plate: eggs, fruit salad, fried “tater tots” (potatoes?), and curious meat wrapped in cooked dough. Some of everything, with juice and water. She thanked her servers, collected utensils and napkins, and found a seat at an empty table. It was early yet.

Sparing a brief look around to be sure no one she recognized had arrived – though she remained eager to greet every patient, at the moment she chose to focus on the possible strength gained from the meal – Natalia began to cut up the items and eat with a refined gusto. Entirely possible!

[Claude!]

There was no telling if the next announcement came hours or minutes after the previous one, but regardless of that, it did come on with the onset of dawn. Like clockwork, like always, someone was there to greet the half-groggy patients as they woke up in their beds.

Except this greeting got off on the wrong foot, starting with a harsh cough that persisted for a few seconds before the speaker recovered.

"I apologize for that," the head nurse said, without any further explanation given. "As today is Tuesday, it will be the first day of therapy for the week. But before that, all patients will be taken to the cafeteria, as always, to eat their breakfast. We're serving pigs in blankets with fruit, scrambled eggs, and tater tots on the side. Please enjoy juice, milk, or water as possible drinks."

After another coughing fit, the nurse continued. "The Head Doctor will most likely be with you after your meal. Thank you."

And the announcement ended, signaling the nurses to go rouse the patients from their sleep.