Day 53: Breakfast

[thatdamnedninja]

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

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[repelling]

Though a futile effort, Uryuu couldn't help but fight night's end, his mind resisting the pull, seeking control, struggling to focus on the words crackling through his radio. When he woke, without ever having closed his eyes, he assessed. He reached with bandaged fingers for his glasses, sat up, and suppressed a wince as pain shot along his arms. Left fingers, right upper and lower arm: the bandaged roach bite, the cut over palm, wrist, and arm. Wrapped with proper bandages, not his ripped shirt. Uryuu wiggled his fingers and stretched. It hurt, but not terribly; he could function without betraying it.

As he stood and donned the provided slippers, the intercom's bell sounded. Uryuu scanned the room as the Head Doctor spoke, noting the tension in his voice, the quiet note on coffee. Eventually, he found the soiled backpack and Kratos-san's cloak in his closet. Whatever plans formed for the night, he'd have to be sure to return to him. The door swung open as he'd reached for his journal, intending to make notes on the various broadcasts throughout the night.

His nurse, too, seemed put-upon. To his "Good Morning" she only nodded, then pressed her lips thin, her eyes stalling on his arms. "Really, Gerard," she tutted. Hardly able to believe the gall of this ruse, Uryuu offered, voice so dry as to nearly crack his tongue, "I must be more careful."

Satisfied, she ushered him from the room (he took the journal and two pens along) and allowed him his stop at the bathroom, to briefly wash up. The emptiness of the cafeteria lead Uryuu's eyes to fall almost immediately on Kratos-san as he walked inside. Separating from the nurse, he took his place on the nonexistent line to collect a single waffle, syrup, a glass of water, and a fruit cup. Perhaps Kratos-san wouldn't want his company; Uryuu himself was inclined to eating alone, and it didn't seem as though his nurse would have the time to foil such a plan. Yet--

Yet, his feet lead him to the man. Uryuu paused to give Kratos-san an inquiring look, as if to say May I?, before setting down his tray. He followed suit by sitting. "Good morning," he said, tone flat, "I have your cloak. I'll get it back to you tonight."

That said, Uryuu began to cut up his waffle into small, even squares.

[spandexorgtfo]

Kratos would have vastly preferred to post a note inquiring after Ishida's health and leave things as they were once he received an answer in the affirmative, but perhaps the two of them were now meant to share some strange bond over mutual suffering (or something to that effect) that necessitated actual face-to-face contact.

He inclined his head in response to the unspoken question on Ishida's face and swallowed his bite of waffle. "Good morning." The greeting was returned easily, his voice as smooth and even as it had ever been.

And it appeared that his hypothesis was holding water: Ishida had not immediately jumped on him with excessive concern, and seemed to be rather masterfully acting as if nothing had happened last night other than an irritating nighttime chill.

"I'll make sure to delay my departure by a few minutes tonight, then; my room number is M20." So early in the day, and they were already discussing the night's agenda - but then, it wasn't as if the day was used for anything else around here.

[repelling]

If asked, Uryuu would have denied a concern for Kratos-san's well-being. If asked, he would have noted the absurdity of such a worry, given that the man had suffered no further physical injuries following the cockroach attack. Insofar as other injuries, the type not addressed or ever acknowledged -- had they not been stopped at a spot of positivity? But, he did not expect any such question. Though no great reader of other people, Uryuu understand that much about the man already.

Even with his stiff, restricted fingers, Uryuu made quick work of the waffle. Quick and meticulous. "Noted," he said, and that was all he said. He did not reciprocate with his room number, as this was hardly an agreement to work together again, or any number of unspecified future nights. It would be noted, both mentally and in his journal.

First, however, he began to eat the waffle. Square by square, chewing slowly. After the first two, he took a sip of water. "Of course," he then elaborated, "it will be only to pass along your cloak." In other words, they would both be free to make other plans; this meeting would not be binding. An unnecessary addendum, perhaps, but one he made for certainty's sake.

[spandexorgtfo]

Kratos raised an eyebrow. "I did not mean to imply anything more than that." He could not see why Ishida had decided to elaborate. Last night, aside from the unpleasant distraction of the shadows, had been only business as usual. Just because they happened to perhaps know a little too much about each other did not in any shape or form mean that they were obligated to follow up with...he wasn't sure precisely what would follow, but it was irrelevant.

He took another bite of his waffle and vaguely noted that he and Ishida were alike in stranger ways than he'd thought as he took in the sight of nearly identical waffle squares sitting on each of their plates. Perhaps it couldn't be helped, although he doubted Ishida's precision was, like his, the result of hours upon hours of formal training designed to counteract the unfortunate influences of eating in military barracks.

[repelling]

"I didn't think so," Uryuu answered, keeping his voice bland. Something in Kratos-san's expression, in the lift of his eyebrow, threatened to put him on the defensive. It spurred a juvenile desire to explain himself, with words rising and spilling like bile. The feeling, on-edge and somehow inadequate, though not unbearably so (had Kratos-san been a Shinigami, been an enemy, well), recalled his fluster as he fumbled with the thrown fabric.

It wasn't unbearable, so with relative ease, Uryuu swallowed those impulses and focused on the food. He thought of this: his notice on the bulletin, the names and details that would filter in. There was no point in feeling impatient or humoring impatience, no point in wanting with every minute to return to the board and analyze the responses. It was early yet. He needed to give it time. He did not think of this: the chill of the woods, the battered shadow child, the words issued by both apparitions. Either it wasn't his business, or he refused to be affected.

Uryuu refused. So he chewed one syrup damp cube at a time. No rice at breakfast; he wondered, idly, when it would next be offered. The silence that settled as each ate wasn't uncomfortable for him; instead, vastly preferable to being lodged with an unwelcome and garrulous meal buddy.

[spandexorgtfo]

"Hm." The slightly amused, slightly patronizing look lingered on Kratos's face a second longer, as if he knew that there was more to be said than was being offered. Then his face fell back into its usual flat, emotionless state as he turned his attention more fully to his breakfast.

Silence reigned, and even though usually he preferred his meals quiet, it brought with it the sort of tension that Kratos despised. It was a waiting game they were playing, to see who cracked first and succumbed to either curiosity or misplaced concern. Neither of them would crack so easily, but that served only to lengthen the game rather than relieve things.

[repelling]

A bite here, a dab of the napkin there, before returning it to his lap. Not that so much as a crumb fell. Around them, the cafeteria filled, voices rose, the overall mood remaining tangibly grim. Little wonder, if all or most had experienced something like they had. Little wonder any morning.

For them, there was no conversation, only the sounds of chewing, swallowed, and imbibing. Sounds distasteful in their own right, if less noticeable when both engaged in it. He had not found the quiet, initially, to be awkward, perhaps due to his inexperience with people -- when finally having fallen, unintentionally, into eating with others at lunch, it was with such a unique crew that this was quite alien. Having already decided what to him was obvious, to ignore the revelations of the night before, he couldn't determine what to say, if anything. How disagreeable. Uryuu let his eyes wander beyond the vicinity of their section of table, noting faces he'd seen before and injuries, old and new.

Asking about the roach bites would produce a predictable response; that much Uryuu deduced with ease. For another few minutes, he looked only at his plate, roughly half the waffle having disappeared at his glacial pace. Then, glancing up if only to allow his neck the movement, another topic struck him, one that did hold some interest.

"If I may," he began, after taking a sip of water, "how long has Kratos-san been here? And, how did you come by those clothes of yours?"

[spandexorgtfo]

In an effort to distract himself, Kratos too had mindlessly begun to watch the other patients file in and collect their meal. There were few faces he recognized - which was logical: he usually kept to himself - and he found himself trying to see if he could actually find someone he knew among the crowd. No Raine in sight, but the Professor usually popped up at unpleasant moments; no doubt, if she had been awake last night, she would bother him at some point and try to get him to "deal" or however she liked to describe her own brand of emotional torture.

No Sheena either, but Kratos wasn't about to concern himself with the well-being of someone whose presence usually precluded a disaster worse than a visit from the Professor herself.

And then Ishida asked him some questions, generic fare, and he allowed himself a few seconds to think back and try to remember how long exactly it had been since he'd first woken up, dazed and weak from his duel with Lloyd. He had been to Doyleton four times now, and the trips were approximately weekly..."It's been perhaps a month," he said finally. It was, he realized, a dismally long stretch of time; in that span, his son had probably defeated Mithos, reunited the worlds, and...well, it was no use thinking about it now. (Besides, you always intended to disappear, his conscience - shadow? - whispered. And surely you prefer this place to Derris-Kharlan.)

The second question he honestly felt he could not answer - not satisfactorily, at any rate. "And...I was never quite sure how I received those clothes. One night, they simply appeared in my closet, as if they had always been there." Everything came with a price; he had yet to discover what his uniform's had been.

[repelling]

A month. Sora-san, too. Depending on the situation, it was either an inconsequential stretch of time, or impossibly long. This marked Uryuu's third day at Landel's Institute, the previous night his third as well. Already he could understand why Sora-san had spoken as if the duration of a month was tantamount to having considerable experience -- and yet little to show for it. With the turnover rate being what it ostensibly was, a month was both unfortunate and worthy of respect.

Though, not necessarily unfortunate. As far as he'd seen and heard, no one knew for certain what happened to "released" patients. Whether they were brainwashed and inserted into their false lives, or something else. It seemed especially unlikely that Landel would simply put them back in their proper worlds and times. Not if he'd gone through so much trouble-- so many calculated sacrifices. Better to be here and aware.

Uryuu mused on that, and bit into a strawberry. That Kratos-san's clothes had appeared without explanation raised his eyebrows. A couple of days ago, he might have questioned the reliability of such an answer, but his little experience, and his small knowledge of Kratos-san, told him that it was true. Strange, but true.

"I see," he said, then finished the last half of the berry. "I assume nothing out of the ordinary, that is relatively for this place, happened at that time?" Kratos-san wasn't the only one wearing something other than the Landel's uniform over the past few nights. Uryuu had suspected their belongings could be found and ransacked, but apparently Kratos-san had not sought his, but been arbitrarily given them. It was an annoying, even disappointing revelation: nothing he could do would yield him a change of clothes; better even, his uniform. Behaving nicely might allow him improved tools for sewing whenever they were next scheduled for the Arts & Crafts Room, but he'd hardly be allowed or able to complete an outfit in that time.

He shook his head, scattering his chagrin. They were only clothes. Uryuu had bigger things to worry about; his mind returned to his note on the bulletin board.

[spandexorgtfo]

Kratos didn't even require time to thoroughly reflect. "Hardly, or I would have remembered it." Things had happened, yes, but nothing that in any way suggested a connection with the appearance of his clothes; in fact, he was sure that they had been lingering in his closet for several days by the time he noticed them.

He finished off his waffle. "In hindsight, I ought to have given you some amount of warning regarding my manner of dress so as to avoid confusion: Special Counseling patients also forgo the standard uniform at night." He had made it obvious fairly quickly that he was hardly SC, but sometimes - in the future, perhaps - it could be difficult to distinguish between friend and foe.

[repelling]

As expected. The institution brought out a semi-neurotic attention to detail; it was highly unlikely that Kratos-san would have overlooked even the smallest difference or sign. He nodded, and continued on his waffle. Just the one, and still not finished; Uryuu did eat very slowly.

"No," he said after swallowing, "There was no reason for you to think that I didn't already know that." That was a new piece of information. Of course, most of those Uryuu had seen were not, as far as he could tell, under Landel's influence. If they had been, probably they would've been attacking. But the majority of those wandering the halls had worn the standard gray. This was useful.

About a quarter of the waffle remained. He took a drink of water, then adjusted his glasses with his bandaged fingers. "Will you be participating tonight? In the club's activities."

[spandexorgtfo]

"Mm." Kratos was about to say something to the effect of 'one never knows' - after all, a mimic had once come after them wearing the gray even though the original dressed otherwise - but supposed that it was unnecessary; Ishida was thorough enough that he could trust his attention to detail.

"It is my intention to do so," he replied, spinning his fork idly between his fingers. "I have worked with Arts and Crafts for some time now, and I have yet to find a better venture." Granted, his current track record with Arts and Crafts was littered with failed missions, injuries, and other setbacks, but as he had warned Hitsugaya, progress was and would be slow and occasionally agonizing. "You?"

[repelling]

Another bite; chewing. Manifesting briefly in his head the question: for how long has Kratos-san worked with Arts and Crafts? But as he swallowed, Kratos-san asked after his plans, and Uryuu decided that for the moment, it wasn't his most pressing concern.

"Yes," he answered, "but there's something I want to do before exploring; or whatever the given task is." In the Entrance Room, those separate rooms with files. Given the possibility of a visitation or return, surely they contained files on released patients. That, or another room held such information. However far-off a proper escape from this place was, Uryuu intended to take hold of that data now. His worry was this: his bulletin post had not been discreet. If the files were there, would they be removed before nightfall in anticipation of his goal?

A funny thing, how appropriate such circling paranoia became in these walls. The last cut of waffle. Now the fruit cup. As he speared a grape, "Do you know much about the other clubs?"

[spandexorgtfo]

"I see." Ishida hadn't defined what he intended to do, but Kratos understood it to be some independent matter that would be just that: independent. Just as long as it didn't take too much time: it was hard enough to achieve satisfactory results at night without a delay.

He smiled briefly at Ishida's next question. "Sadly, I do not. My roommate, to my understanding, is affiliated with the History Club, but we have never discussed its agenda." In fact, he rarely spoke to Kenshin, which was regrettable: Kenshin seemed an agreeable enough person. "...to be honest, I would normally work alone, but a previous leader of Arts and Crafts extended me an invitation to join the club, and I felt obliged to accept it." He shrugged. "And as I said, it seems to have worked out."

Momo was another person he had not seen or spoken to recently - in fact, they had not talked since she had honored him with Signum's sword, and that had been around two weeks ago.