Rita awakened in a cold sweat that morning. What the hell was that all about!? It had to be a trick, like the moving shadows from the other night... It just couldn't be real
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The intercom had interrupted L's conversation with Lunge, and he had no connected memory of what had happened after Aguilar spoke. When he woke up, all the notes they had been studying were gone, along with Lunge himself, and the room was tidy. If all but the most basic of their belongings were being taken away while they slept and stored in the metal containers, and a consistent pattern was established based on yesterday's events, everything would be returned at dinner. However, the way his acquisitions were held made him understand that Aguilar might be aware that he was in possession of a lot of information about the Institute... something to keep in mind when planning any future moves
( ... )
He occupied himself with that minor conundrum as he munched at his breakfast. The apple in the paper sack wasn't as glossy and sweet as last week's, but after yesterday's gruel, it was still a treat; the bagel was also an improvement.
It would only be a matter of time before someone else was forced to sit beside him, interrupting his apparent reverie.
[From here!]The trip to the bus was largely a blur of details to the prosecutor - seemingly endless lines of individuals dressed in clothing just as outrageous as his own, slews of nurses, plain looking sack lunches that Edgeworth refused to investigate even after he had received his own - and the thin jacket that he had been given did little to warm him from the bite of winter air assaulting him from the moment he stepped outside until he arrived at the bus. Impatient as he felt to continue on, the slow moving line of people seating themselves afforded him a moment to breathe, even beyond the slight claustrophobia that came with clumsy elbows and overly stretched out legs that occasionally blocked his path. The seats were filling up fast, and Edgeworth didn't even dream of the privilege of having a seat to himself - mostly definitely not in this sea of people
( ... )
The bus was filling fast. It wasn't just military efficiency; the real nurses had done about as well for speed a week earlier. L wondered, again, what had become of most of them. If they're gone, where have they gone to? Do they still change at night, or if they are no longer within the confines of the Institute, does that mean it doesn't happen anymore? It doesn't seem likely that Aguilar let them go home, or that they even necessarily have homes to go to.
A youngish man was close enough to get his attention, hovering; L was aware of his presence, distracted by it, before the inevitable question came. He shot a sidelong glance at the man, whose height and coloring--dark hair, grey eyes--were similar to his own. "Available...." He considered the question with his head tilted, and shifted in his seat, in the heavy coat he wore. "Yes."
Why doesn't he know that we don't get much choice? I've seen him before, but--
Upon closer inspection, the man before Edgeworth seemed more peculiar than his cursory glance had provided, the darkness beneath his eyes and the paleness of his skin catching the prosecutor in an odd way - and the answer coupled with the tilt of the other man's head brought on another question altogether, one that Edgeworth simply toyed with and discarded as he took the questionably proffered seat
( ... )
There was a beat of silence, during which L used his tongue to push a small bite of apple into his cheek, before he replied, "Not long. A few minutes. It's too far to walk in a reasonable amount of time. Also, if we were going on foot, it would be more difficult for them to keep track of us on the way there
( ... )
Edgeworth broke eye contact with the man tellingly at that moment, his gaze lowering to the sack lunch in his own hand. It was obvious that he was being questioned for a reason, and although Edgeworth didn't have the faintest idea why he pressed on with the notion that clearing the air might be profitable to the both of them - after all, he couldn't exactly make up lies or feign knowledge when he didn't have any sort of information of his own in the first place
( ... )
L looked surprised, for a moment. That explained the sense of familiarity: while he had never spoken with Edgeworth in the past, they had been in the same room on several occasions. The only patients who looked like strangers were the ones who were completely new. A few days of turning up in L's quick visual scans made a person part of the scenery, for the same reason that he would have been able to tell someone the precise number of seats in the cafeteria without thinking very hard about it
( ... )
Edgeworth's expression seemed to neutralize even though the amount of information that the other man was providing was nothing short of overwhelming - in truth, part of him was refusing to accept any of it as fact - but as the explanation drew to a close he looked away, feigning interest in the lunch sack in his hands briefly.
"I'm not familiar with a city by that name," he replied somewhat casually, tamping down the parts of him that still flared with unease and leaving them to the wayside temporarily. Opening his lunch bag, Edgeworth eyed the apple and granola bar sitting inside, though neither looked particularly appetizing at the moment. He continued on then, keeping his focus on the bag as he lifted the granola bar and inspected the packaging. "Prior to waking up in the...'hospital' that you described, I was on a flight headed towards Los Angeles. Is there any sort of connection between that and my arrival here?"
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It would only be a matter of time before someone else was forced to sit beside him, interrupting his apparent reverie.
[Edgeworth!]
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A youngish man was close enough to get his attention, hovering; L was aware of his presence, distracted by it, before the inevitable question came. He shot a sidelong glance at the man, whose height and coloring--dark hair, grey eyes--were similar to his own. "Available...." He considered the question with his head tilted, and shifted in his seat, in the heavy coat he wore. "Yes."
Why doesn't he know that we don't get much choice? I've seen him before, but--
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"I'm not familiar with a city by that name," he replied somewhat casually, tamping down the parts of him that still flared with unease and leaving them to the wayside temporarily. Opening his lunch bag, Edgeworth eyed the apple and granola bar sitting inside, though neither looked particularly appetizing at the moment. He continued on then, keeping his focus on the bag as he lifted the granola bar and inspected the packaging. "Prior to waking up in the...'hospital' that you described, I was on a flight headed towards Los Angeles. Is there any sort of connection between that and my arrival here?"
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