[From here, and timewarping so that she doesn't stare at Peter in his spandex and no playercest occurs al;sjajdsf. ALSO FOR KLAVIER AND BATTLER? 8D]Klavier hadn't arrived yet. His room might be a bit further away than hers. Her map wasn't well labeled, but it looked like there were two men's blocks just above hers. It would make sense that he would need some extra time to get here if he was sleeping in one of those
( ... )
The main corridor. This was where he was supposed to be meeting Claire. She was new, but she was sharp, so he was sure she wasn't going to have any trouble moving from the patient rooms to this point. What he hadn't been expecting, however, was that she'd get there before he did.
Klavier spotted her quickly enough, momentarily surprised by that fact, but soon shifted to a bright smile. He approached, lifting the pipe in his right hand slightly in a sort of distracted greeting. "My, you move quickly, Fräulein. I didn't keep you waiting for too long, I hope?"
He vaguely noted the girl's clothes as he got closer. Judging by their condition, she must have found them lying around here somewhere. Personally, Klavier wouldn't have even considered taking clothes in that kind of condition let alone wearing them, but he also fully understood the desperation to have something... "normal" in this place. Something familiar. Anything. So even if they were in horrible condition, they were still a more normal alternative to the
( ... )
A familiar figure stepped out from the entrance. Claire straightened, easing the frown from her face in favour of a smile. "No. Not at all. It's only been a few minutes
( ... )
Apparently, Claire didn't plan to extend the same courtesy back and had decided to comment on his clothing. Or more question him on them. The smile faded a little into confusion.
"My clothes back?" he repeated. What was she talking about? The only clothes in his room were the new and old uniforms. Given the choice of wearing one or the other, he actually preferred the one that felt more like clothes and less like loose-fitting pajamas. But Claire was speaking as though it was not only possible to have something different, but it was something expected. "Are you... talking about my actual clothes? From back home
( ... )
[From here.]As it turned out, the first thing Harvey saw was that blue and red spandex and not much else. So it looked like he was second after all. That was all well and good, though this costumed kid was probably the one out of their basement exploration group (god, it sounded like the Boy Scouts) who he knew the least
( ... )
Dent was already there, along with--oh, right, that was Peter Parker in that getup. Indy nodded at them both as he moved over to join them. "I doubt his parents named him 'Spider-Man,' either," he commented, having caught the tail end of the exchange. If the kid wanted to play his secret identity game, though, Indy wasn't going to blow his cover. At least his reasons were more understandable than "Ryuuzaki"'s.
"How much have you been filled in on?" he asked Peter. As he spoke, he took the pillowcase bag off his shoulder and unlooped the straps to pull out the miniature shield, which he extended to Peter for inspection (how well could he see in that cowl thing?). "We picked this up from a sphinx last night. Maybe tonight we'll find a tiny sword and a tiny suit of armor." He didn't need to mask the absurdity of all this, but ludicrous or not, they all ought to be on the same page.
Was that spandex? Comic-book costumes looked ridiculous on real people, probably because most of them were balding middle-aged men pretending that all it took to be a hero was some synthetic copolymers and contact lenses.
Being a real hero was hard work. The pay sucked, the press took you for granted when they needed to fill the gossip pages and ignored you the rest of the time. Same with the donors and their tax returns. Peter knew what he was talking about, even if the others didn't. Didn't make the spandex look less stupid, but it did mean he wouldn't point it out.
"Or a miniaturization ray and a pissed-off re-enactment armada." God, Dolmacher and his crew would have a field day. The million-dollar question was how long it'd take before they realized this wasn't all set up for their benefit. Probably meal #1, given the crap they were serving now.
Mello made his way quickly, but not running anymore, to the main thoroughfare south of the prisoner's cells. He was looking for a petite (and, he assumed, female) person with red hair. No use transporting outside the Institute now, but Mordio had sounded like someone useful to know regardless. If she had the slightest interest in the torture sessions, Mello planned to exploit that. He'd arranged to meet up with Javert as well, a meeting he hoped would prove beneficial for all involved, not least himself for bringing it about.
Back to waiting, his impatience working against him, making him restrain the urge to pace or tap his boot on the floor, or do something, and he switched the flashlight on and off, jittery, watching the light appear and disappear on the floor.
Walking with a slight limp, Rita entered the main hallway and immediately began looking around for anyone who matched the description from the bulletin board. From what she could see, there was one blond male standing alone who seemed to be around the right height. Rita drew nearer to get a closer look.
His face seemed to fit the age she was told, but... what was that? It looked like a good portion of his face was covered in some massive scar. Wouldn't that have made a good distinguishing feature to mention on the bulletin? Maybe this wasn't the right guy after all. There could be a lot of blond males in their 20s at Landel's, after all. Still, it was best to check.
Stopping in front of him, Rita crossed her arms, looked him over once more, and asked, "Are you Morgan?"
"That's me. Mordio, I take it." He didn't bother making it a question. Mello observed, in the flashlight's beam, both the girl's limp and her noticing his scar. Of course he hadn't mentioned it; he generally didn't on the bulletin board. Given that she hadn't mentioned her age, he considered them even. She was younger than he had expected, young to have an attitude like the one she'd displayed. But Mello had known from a great deal younger than she that there were people who were worth bothering with, and people who weren't, and that the majority of the world was the latter. If she could back up her attitude the way he could back up his, they might get on fine
( ... )
Sora raced into the hall, looking this way and that for a familiar head of red hair. But while there were a number of other patients who were waiting around, some in their new uniform and others in their own clothes, there was no sign of Kairi -- or Roxas, for that matter.
"Phew!" Sora exclaimed to himself with a small smile. His title would remain his; even after the time he'd wasted changing, he was still here first. It made him wonder why the others tended to take longer, but maybe it was just a matter of being further away. Kairi wasn't really, though. Maybe she had to do some sort of girl stuff before leaving? Who knew.
Either way, he'd made it and he was first and that was the important thing. It was a silly thing to get hung up on, but things were always so bad here; sometimes he just wanted to focus on the stuff that didn't matter.
So after settling himself against the wall, maybe even a bit smugly, Sora kept an eye out for Kairi and Roxas, wondering which one would show up first.
Finally, the main hallway. Roxas wondered where they were planning on going tonight, since he hadn't really said. Since Sora was the leader of the Arts & Crafts club, it had to be somewhere exciting, right? He probably knew almost every inch of the institute which was why he could give assignments so easily. That was a lot better than Roxas knew, but somehow he wasn't surprised.
It took him a moment longer to find his Other (it was almost instinctual to find him immediately) because the Nobody was expecting him to be wearing that weird uniform from before. He'd never seen Sora at night, and he certainly didn't remember... that.
"Hey Sora!" He waved, pushing the coat's hood back from his face as he ran over to him. The hair was like a beacon, calling out from beyond the mass of other people. The red of the outfit helped, too. Roxas looked over it for a moment, frowning a bit. There was... "What's with all the belts?"
(LMAO DAMMIT HANNAH I POSTED LIKE TEN SECONDS AFTER YOU YOU FOP.
anyway. from here.)Oh god, she was late. Kairi was running by the time she entered the hallway, and there, she could see ... yup. Sora and Roxas. At least, the first thing she saw was Sora's hair, followed by Roxas. Oops. She was in trouble
( ... )
Surprisingly, Roxas made it before Kairi, and he was even wearing the Organization's coat as his nighttime outfit. That sight was enough to set Sora back for a moment. He'd mainly been fighting against people who wore that coat, so seeing a friend in it -- no, more than a friend, but his counterpart -- was just bizarre. Then again, Riku had worn it too, so he could get used to it. It was just shocking at first, that was all
( ... )
It seemed Nigredo came too late. Pockets of people had already gathered in the main area, and more appeared to be on the way. He even recognized a couple of faces in passing: Klavier with a woman and Sora with what were probably his friends. The pain his head piqued momentarily, and without sparing any needless attention, he rounded the next corner.
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The main corridor. This was where he was supposed to be meeting Claire. She was new, but she was sharp, so he was sure she wasn't going to have any trouble moving from the patient rooms to this point. What he hadn't been expecting, however, was that she'd get there before he did.
Klavier spotted her quickly enough, momentarily surprised by that fact, but soon shifted to a bright smile. He approached, lifting the pipe in his right hand slightly in a sort of distracted greeting. "My, you move quickly, Fräulein. I didn't keep you waiting for too long, I hope?"
He vaguely noted the girl's clothes as he got closer. Judging by their condition, she must have found them lying around here somewhere. Personally, Klavier wouldn't have even considered taking clothes in that kind of condition let alone wearing them, but he also fully understood the desperation to have something... "normal" in this place. Something familiar. Anything. So even if they were in horrible condition, they were still a more normal alternative to the ( ... )
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"My clothes back?" he repeated. What was she talking about? The only clothes in his room were the new and old uniforms. Given the choice of wearing one or the other, he actually preferred the one that felt more like clothes and less like loose-fitting pajamas. But Claire was speaking as though it was not only possible to have something different, but it was something expected. "Are you... talking about my actual clothes? From back home ( ... )
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Dent was already there, along with--oh, right, that was Peter Parker in that getup. Indy nodded at them both as he moved over to join them. "I doubt his parents named him 'Spider-Man,' either," he commented, having caught the tail end of the exchange. If the kid wanted to play his secret identity game, though, Indy wasn't going to blow his cover. At least his reasons were more understandable than "Ryuuzaki"'s.
"How much have you been filled in on?" he asked Peter. As he spoke, he took the pillowcase bag off his shoulder and unlooped the straps to pull out the miniature shield, which he extended to Peter for inspection (how well could he see in that cowl thing?). "We picked this up from a sphinx last night. Maybe tonight we'll find a tiny sword and a tiny suit of armor." He didn't need to mask the absurdity of all this, but ludicrous or not, they all ought to be on the same page.
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Was that spandex? Comic-book costumes looked ridiculous on real people, probably because most of them were balding middle-aged men pretending that all it took to be a hero was some synthetic copolymers and contact lenses.
Being a real hero was hard work. The pay sucked, the press took you for granted when they needed to fill the gossip pages and ignored you the rest of the time. Same with the donors and their tax returns. Peter knew what he was talking about, even if the others didn't. Didn't make the spandex look less stupid, but it did mean he wouldn't point it out.
"Or a miniaturization ray and a pissed-off re-enactment armada." God, Dolmacher and his crew would have a field day. The million-dollar question was how long it'd take before they realized this wasn't all set up for their benefit. Probably meal #1, given the crap they were serving now.
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Mello made his way quickly, but not running anymore, to the main thoroughfare south of the prisoner's cells. He was looking for a petite (and, he assumed, female) person with red hair. No use transporting outside the Institute now, but Mordio had sounded like someone useful to know regardless. If she had the slightest interest in the torture sessions, Mello planned to exploit that. He'd arranged to meet up with Javert as well, a meeting he hoped would prove beneficial for all involved, not least himself for bringing it about.
Back to waiting, his impatience working against him, making him restrain the urge to pace or tap his boot on the floor, or do something, and he switched the flashlight on and off, jittery, watching the light appear and disappear on the floor.
[for Rita!]
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Walking with a slight limp, Rita entered the main hallway and immediately began looking around for anyone who matched the description from the bulletin board. From what she could see, there was one blond male standing alone who seemed to be around the right height. Rita drew nearer to get a closer look.
His face seemed to fit the age she was told, but... what was that? It looked like a good portion of his face was covered in some massive scar. Wouldn't that have made a good distinguishing feature to mention on the bulletin? Maybe this wasn't the right guy after all. There could be a lot of blond males in their 20s at Landel's, after all. Still, it was best to check.
Stopping in front of him, Rita crossed her arms, looked him over once more, and asked, "Are you Morgan?"
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Sora raced into the hall, looking this way and that for a familiar head of red hair. But while there were a number of other patients who were waiting around, some in their new uniform and others in their own clothes, there was no sign of Kairi -- or Roxas, for that matter.
"Phew!" Sora exclaimed to himself with a small smile. His title would remain his; even after the time he'd wasted changing, he was still here first. It made him wonder why the others tended to take longer, but maybe it was just a matter of being further away. Kairi wasn't really, though. Maybe she had to do some sort of girl stuff before leaving? Who knew.
Either way, he'd made it and he was first and that was the important thing. It was a silly thing to get hung up on, but things were always so bad here; sometimes he just wanted to focus on the stuff that didn't matter.
So after settling himself against the wall, maybe even a bit smugly, Sora kept an eye out for Kairi and Roxas, wondering which one would show up first.
[For Kairi and Roxas.]
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Finally, the main hallway. Roxas wondered where they were planning on going tonight, since he hadn't really said. Since Sora was the leader of the Arts & Crafts club, it had to be somewhere exciting, right? He probably knew almost every inch of the institute which was why he could give assignments so easily. That was a lot better than Roxas knew, but somehow he wasn't surprised.
It took him a moment longer to find his Other (it was almost instinctual to find him immediately) because the Nobody was expecting him to be wearing that weird uniform from before. He'd never seen Sora at night, and he certainly didn't remember... that.
"Hey Sora!" He waved, pushing the coat's hood back from his face as he ran over to him. The hair was like a beacon, calling out from beyond the mass of other people. The red of the outfit helped, too. Roxas looked over it for a moment, frowning a bit. There was... "What's with all the belts?"
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anyway. from here.)Oh god, she was late. Kairi was running by the time she entered the hallway, and there, she could see ... yup. Sora and Roxas. At least, the first thing she saw was Sora's hair, followed by Roxas. Oops. She was in trouble ( ... )
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It seemed Nigredo came too late. Pockets of people had already gathered in the main area, and more appeared to be on the way. He even recognized a couple of faces in passing: Klavier with a woman and Sora with what were probably his friends. The pain his head piqued momentarily, and without sparing any needless attention, he rounded the next corner.
[To here.]
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