Day 55: Courtyard [2nd Shift]
After what seemed like an eternity of being amused, irritable, bored, in pain, in excruciating pain, and any combination of those, Guybrush was met by the same soldier who had led him to the cafeteria. He wasn't offered a trip to the Sun Room to check the bulletin board, but didn't push for it anyway. That would have been more walking, and moving
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Agatha. Poor Ema. This on top of last night. Relationships here were, by their nature, transitory, but Ema didn't do things halfway. Professional reserve was something she'd learn with experience; it had its place, even when not taken to extremes, but right now she just clung to people. Understandably so; neither of them knew when those they cared about would be taken away without so much as a hint of warning.
Lana took the jacket she was handed without comment, putting it on and zipping it shut. She pulled out the few strands of hair that had gotten caught under the collar, tucked all of it back behind her ears, and ventured outside. It was snowing, little glittering flakes. It had been a long time since she'd been out in the snow.
When we get home, we'll go back up in the mountains. Drive up there for a weekend and throw nothing at each other more harmful than snowballs. I promise, Ema.
She stood looking up at the snow, palms out, until her hands got cold enough to ache and she had to unzip her jacket and tuck them inside.
[Free!]
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As he kept walking, it took Matt a few moments to realize that he was actually somewhat enjoying himself for the first time in almost a week. Wandering around just a little, he pondered the change in his mindset, wondering if he'd just been messed with by someone on the payroll, but the more he thought it over, the more it appeared to simply be a side effect of the new way the mental asylum was functioning. This was the first day he wore what amounted to actual clothing, and there'd been no nurses to coddle him or lead him around, no threat of sedation or solitary confinement. Instead, as far as he could tell, any and all patients that exhibited a lack of cooperation were met with actual physical punishments, rather than a needle to the arm and a sickly sweet smile no one wanted.
Not that armed escorts were much better, but everything so far that morning was making him feel less like an invalid and more like an actual threat to Landel and Aguilar.
... Cool.
After realizing that he'd been standing completely still long enough for his brown hair to have become so covered in snow it looked white, Matt shook as much of it as he could free before approaching someone else who looked rather lonely. It was a girl - a woman, really. Matt internally berated himself for the unconscious mistake. Slowly, he walked toward her until he stood beside her, coming up right when she was tucking her hands away. "Getting cold?" he asked, turning his head and watching her.
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It was all the sort of idle chit-chat they were supposed to be making. Talking about the weather, for heaven's sake. "Lana Skye." She extracted her right hand from her coat and held it out.
"I think I even miss the traffic jams. Not the smog, though. At least not yet." She smiled, a little sadly.
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Bringing his head back down, Matt let the smile fade as he started to feel that urge for a smoke again. He was outside, in the cold, and it filled him suddenly, the desire to ruin that clean air with acrid smoke.
But he fought it off. Closing his eyes for a moment, he opened them abruptly when he realized she had introduced herself; turning to look at her, Matt hesitated when he saw her hand outstretched. He looked at it for a moment, then looked her in the eye, and the brunet decided that someone polite enough to offer their hand when they were obviously already chilled deserved to be met with more politeness.
Slowly, he reached forward and clasped Lana's hand in his, giving it a small but firm shake. "Matt" he answered; in the hesitation, he'd decided that the alias was pointless at this point. It was hard to keep up the alias when there was no telling who or what was waiting in the dark to make you terrified enough to drop it.
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That appeared to be about as false as everything else in her department -- either of her departments had been.
"No, of course you don't." She shook her head. Not that he was too young. More that he'd either have responded to one of the earlier discussions on the bulletin, or he wouldn't have mentioned L.A. at all. She caught one of the few larger snowflakes on the palm of her hand, and watched it melt. "There are a few nice things here."
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He watched her closely for a long, lingering moment, unsure, really, of what else to say. He couldn't just tell her why he'd been in LA, for obvious reasons - though a part of him wanted to. It was a weird urge to connect, one he was unused to. That was probably due to the fact that the majority of his contact with people had been limited to computer screens and disposable cell phones.
Until last week.
He liked her comment, though. It was true, and he chuckled at the irony. "Yeah. Who would've thought, huh? That this place could give people that warm nostalgic feeling every once in a while. Especially with everything else that goes on around here." He rolled his eyes at the building, wishing he could show the exact contempt he was feeling.
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Or that could be the experiment, though the point still eluded her. A remarkably frivolous use of time travel, and the time of all those involved in running it.
"Standard psychological tricks, most of it." Nights were a different matter, but that didn't need to be said. "Even though I know exactly what they're doing, it doesn't make it less effective."
"Where's home, then?" They talked about escape, and people being sent home like it was a death sentence -- which was disturbingly possible, and more so in some cases. Or one for other people -- if their ability to cause amnesia long-term was as effective as the short-term reports on the bulletin, there would be no way to stop Bruce's death. It was still home, and the only thing that would stop her from taking the chance if offered was if Ema's release wasn't secured as well. Leaving her alone here would be unconscionable. None of which she need inflict on this friendly young man, who undoubtedly had worries of his own. "I've lived in L.A. my entire life -- and this wasn't exactly how I envisioned world traveling."
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He agreed with her, for the most part. The only place he considered to be really home was Wammy's House, but that was a long way from wherever this was that Landel had decided to set up his playground. No matter how similar the weather seemed to be.
It made plenty of sense that this exact location could have been chosen for just such a purpose. Granted, Matt had only be trapped in the institute for a little less than a week, so he couldn't make many assumptions about the typical season at Landel's. One thing he was sure about, though, was that snow was always so relaxing, for reasons he still wasn't entirely sure of; it seemed perfectly plausible that he had chosen somewhere that got plenty of snow during the right weather just to make them more easygoing - only to have reality crash down on their heads once night rolled around. After all, the man obviously wasn't much more than a troll that couldn't be trolled back, if listening to him banter at them over the intercom all the time was enough to prove that.
... What a cheater.
Shaking that thought away too, Matt sighed as he continued his fight against craving a cigarette more than life itself, and he turned back to try his best again at focusing on Lana. Most of it seemed to be directed to herself more than to him, though. "But you imagined it," he said. "That matters. A lot of people don't even think about it; they let themselves get settled in their lives and never think about anything better." Was he one of those people? Matt liked to think no; after all, he left Wammy's quite some time before finding himself in this facility. And dead, but that just came with the package now, apparently.
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"I don't think most people are like that." Optimism seemed an unlikely quality in a prosecutor, but it was a healthy one. Seeing the worst humanity had to offer on a daily basis ground people down; some buckled, and some were polished. And a rare few never seem to notice the muck they're surrounded by. "As long as we don't let ourselves forget that other people care about us, then we have to work to make things better. Because they're counting on us." She smiled at that, her eyes drifting off to look at where the horizon would be, if there weren't a rather high stone wall in the way.
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As he listened, though, he couldn't help but admire her. She seemed open, happy, and hopeful, despite the fact that she had probably been struck down her fair share by the very same ones who had demolished Matt's own plans during the late shift every single night since his arrival.
He hesitated before putting his next thought into words, because although he was quite familiar with collecting information from people, he was unused to doing it through such a blatant and obvious means as questioning. Conversation was definitely not his strong point, but he knew it was a necessity in this situation.
Besides, he was genuinely interested in what this woman had to say. She was... interesting, to put it simply.
"I take it you have someone counting on you," he stated, shifting his weight a little nervously from one foot to the other and wedging his hands a little further down into his pockets. His nose was starting to feel cold from the snow, and he had the distinct feeling that it was turning a little red to boot. "Are they here, with you?"
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"I do." More than one, though one did stand out in importance. "My sister. Her name's Ema, and she was brought here the same day I was."
"And there are others, too. I owe some debts I may never be able to repay, but I have to try." What those were, she didn't especially want to reveal, but she also wouldn't hide. Everyone owed something to someone; even people who claimed independence couldn't really function alone. Trying to do so created only tragedy.
"We have to count on each other. It's that or give up entirely, and I'm not ready to do that."
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The dynamics of a relationship such as the one demonstrated between sisters, he had to admit, was quite fascinating. He had a strange itch to pursue that part of the conversation out of simple intrigue - along with the one about debts she herself brought up. As far as he knew, it was a general rule of conversation that when one opened one subject, it was up for discussion.
But something made him hold back. The brunet was familiar with the effects prying could have on people. This was his first conversation with this woman; the impression he made would determine whether or not she would speak with him again in the future.
Basically, you need to be on your best behavior, Matty, he scolded himself silently, trying to relax.
"I'm still not sure, really, what the best option is," he replied, tipping his head forward and watching her through his bangs, which had fallen over his eyes. It helped him cope with the slight awkwardness he was experiencing right that moment. "In this place, I mean. It seems so futile to keep trying to hard to escape, night after night, because we're smacked down at every turn... But it's like you just said. The only other option would be to just lay down and die, and I doubt anyone here has reached that point." Or ever would, he didn't say.
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But it wouldn't be Lana -- or Ema, though the latter had never been in question -- and it looked like this young man would be alright as well.
"I find myself asking the same question. For now, information is the best weapon I can lay my hands on." Her eyes narrowed, and her spine straightened, as she went back to work. "I won't kid myself that a lawsuit could solve all of our problems, but it never hurts to be prepared." The fact that it was the only skill she had here worth mentioning was, well, not worth mentioning.
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... Yeah, plenty of wide open space to play around with there. Hopefully it wouldn't get him killed.
Hopefully.
"I agree," he responded, cracking a small smile at her comment about information being the best weapon. He thought it was interesting that she mentioned a lawsuit like that; definitely the same thought had crossed several minds in the Institute, but to bring it up in conversation... She must do something connected to the law, Matt decided. And not anything like cops or detective work... No. A lawsuit was very specific, and the way she'd implied it struck Matt in more civil terms than criminal, which was where a cop or detective's mind would be leaning. Maybe she was a lawyer? Or, at the very least, she wanted to be one. But judging by her age and the way she carried herself, Matt figured she'd already managed to get through law school, and he was under the impression that she had some experience - though probably not much. No, her optimism rang of someone who had run into very little actual challenge this far in her life.
He regarded her with an amused look. "I'm curious. What information do you think will help?" Matt really did agree with that sentiment, obviously, but he was also starting to believe that maybe what he really needed was a bat.
A really strong, metal bat.
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"I'm not cut out for more...direct methods. I leave that to the appropriate professionals. What I can do well, I do, and that's investigate."
She went on, answering the question he hadn't asked. "I was a detective for many years before I transferred to the Prosecutor's Office, and I haven't forgotten how to tease out the truth from a handful of clues."
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