Day 53: Sun Room, Morning

[scarefaux]

With breakfast finished and a new acquaintance made, the Scarecrow's mind turned to his other friends. The disappearance of Depth Charge's friend had brought back memories of how he'd felt when Kaiji went missing: helpless, useless, as though he should have and could have done something more to find him. If only he had his brain, then maybe he

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[whichwayagain]

Mihai had felt little desire to get out of bed that morning, yet his nurse had been insistent. Somehow the woman had developed the idea that waffles were to serve as the miracle cure for every nightmare that could possibly haunt the man in his sleep, never mind that Mihai doubted even the youngest of patients would hold such an idea to be true. In every sense then, breakfast had been a waste, from the sugary foods on his plate, to the thoughts that had occupied Mihai's mind while he ignored the meal.

But letting himself be consumed by thought would accomplish nothing. Mihai was tired, more than he cared to admit even to himself, pushed far too close to the point of breaking by the constant mental trials. Checking the bulletin did little to alleviate the accumulation, instead giving Mihai the new role of "bad news bearer" before his nurse carted off to make a new friend.

First waffles, and now playing polite for the masses. With such tried and true methods of therapy, Mihai wondered how anyone could even doubt the good intentions of the Institute.

Possessing discipline enough to keep from rolling his eyes at his own thoughts served to his benefit; Mihai didn't exactly care to explain just what was occupying him to this stranger. Another woman, young--maybe Kiri's age, maybe less. Mihai nodded to 'Shirley' in greeting, but didn't bother to speak before the nurse left. Putting up with the nurse's corrections didn't spark his interest either.

"Mihai Mihaeroff. Miss...?" Ah well. A bad mood wasn't much of an excuse to be impolite, and this woman was hardly to blame for his predicament.

[fourstonewalls]

A flash of grey-white hair, loose and flopping down over a beard the same color, jolted her heartbeat into racing. Damon? Now? With her notes all over the table and her plans in similarly obvious disarray? She swallowed, gathering her composure, and looked up -- finally -- as the man spoke. In a voice nothing like the Chief's booming tones. Oh. Well, that was a piece of luck.

"Lana Skye," she said, smiling sheepishly over her case of misdirected nerves.  She glanced down at her notes -- stress and unanswered questions had turned her usual accuracy into a vague hash of quotes and jumbled timelines.  It might not do any good to have an accurate summary of the night before, but investigating wasn't something she could just turn off. Ema's notes would be equally useless this time; she'd been keeping track of Lana's case, not Landel's torturous ramblings.

"I don't suppose...would you mind if I asked you a few questions about last night?"  It was a question that could backfire -- only her shadow had become animated, and there were some obvious explanations available.  Comparing notes with Damon would, perhaps, be the obvious move, but she wasn't sure she had enough information -- or composure -- to do that yet.

[whichwayagain]

Mihai only watched in quiet curiosity as the woman tensed, but didn't pry. The easy answer for nerves was a bad night, something this place went to great lengths to create on a regular basis. But even if that hadn't been the case, Lana relaxed after little more than a breath, and Mihai was content to forget it had ever happened.

And so was this woman, apparently. Mihai could of course guess just what the questions would entail, and he moved into a chair just across from Lana. "I suppose not, but I doubt I'd know more than anyone else." Then there was the matter of just what Mihai would willingly reveal; in his world, the name was enough to tell most people just what crimes he'd committed over his years. Yet within the Institute, Mihai actually had the option of not being knowing as a blood-covered murdered. While he wasn't ashamed of his job in so many words (the past was best accepted, after all), it could be troublesome if people found out, given the attitudes of some he'd seen around.

[fourstonewalls]

A typical non-answer, but it wasn't an outright refusal. Lana launched into the question, her tone and phrasing carefully neutral. "Did anyone in your vicinity experience any of the following: visual distortions, shared or otherwise, and/or being addressed by what was ostensibly one's own shadow?"

"I'm trying to determine if the experience I underwent was universal, and if so, what were its criteria." That she herself had lied to protect a murderer was no longer a secret, although until last night the identity of the murderer had also been a secret to her, which was, as far back as she could recall, a novelty in the district. Others might not be so open. " I realize that, if the Head Doctor's vague statements correspond to the parameters of the effect, that any answer could be taken as a confession; I don't require names, and nothing you say will be held as an admission of criminal activity or the witnessing thereof."

She smiled. It was getting easier every time she did it, not to flinch away from her own emotions. "I won't make any assumptions, and I hope you'll do me the same honor."