[[From here]]

Snake scanned the area, and saw that it was empty. That was good. He waited for Fox to enter behind him, then closed the door silently.

"So," he whispered hoarsely, "I'm assuming you don't plan on visiting all of the ladies here. Who's the lucky girl?"

He wasn't going to let Fox off for that jab about CQC.

Nightshift always seemed to come far too quickly for Inara's tastes. She regretted not having the chance to talk more with Mal and the others and could only hope that they had some inkling of what they would be facing. Truth be told, the Companion wasn't entirely certain that she truly knew the extent of the horrors that took place during Nightshift.

As the Head Doctor made his mocking announcement, the dark-haired woman busied her with gathering together the most essential of supplies. A flashlight and some spare batteries would be obvious and further inspection revealed little that could be of substantial use to her. Inara would hardly want to be over-burdened if she had to run from anything this time. She'd been fortunate during her last encounter to have Lust around, but, until she could re-group with Mal and the others, she was alone and would have to make due. Of course, there had been no official decree from the Captain declaring a meeting; Inara simply assumed that they would try to find one another for safety's sake.

Besides, though it was somewhat difficult to admit, she was worried about him.

Flashlight in hand, Inara flipped the switch and made her way cautiously out into the hallway, careful to check both directions before stepping fully out of the room.

For Doctor Hakubi Washu, it was like Christmas had just come early, especially delivered by Santa Claus himself. She'd leaped at the chance to use her knowledge for good- well, at least kinda-sorta good?- and more importantly to advance her brilliant new theorem. All she needed were the minds for study, and it just so happened that the Institute had plenty of such minds for the studying, and plenty was being offered for her to do so.

Wasn't capitalism such a wonderful thing?

Thoroughly in her element, Washu had pored through the patient files and gotten everything ready, even managing to add a little 'flair' to her office. Several unidentifiable but quite flashy machines were on her desk, sharing the space with a small bowl of sweets, and the standard-issue padded couch had been 'modified' while she was at it.

She couldn't quite hide her glee as she clapped her hands together and grinned when she heard the intercom. Any moment now, aaaaany moment...

((OOC: For Ichigo, Tamaki, Darman, Fayt, Nigredo, Takaya, Yazoo, and Zoe.))

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.

"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.

Whatever luck seemed to have completely abandoned him the past few nights apparently had the decency to follow them into the new hall.

---unlike the rats. Thank god... or something.

The slam of the double-doors behind them reverberated loudly through the hallway, but it was nowhere near as deafening as the silence that followed. But off in the distance, far to the left, Vincent swore he heard a faint scream. A quick flashlight scan over gleaming, descending-order room numbers told him more than he wanted to know.

Elena. She was in F2, the direction of the distant clamor.

He glanced wordlessly at Dias for a long moment, doubtful how much farther the man would follow him, before shining his light down the dividing hallway and breaking into a silent, paced run.