Night 56: West Wing, South Hall 1-A

[poorexample]

[From here.]As Castiel exited the room block he'd been assigned to, it occurred to him that Gabriel had not caught up with him this time around. That was for the best. He had a difficult time shaking his brother off in this place, seeing how he couldn't disappear at the snap of a finger. If he'd had to bring his brother along on his lesson with

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[herr_inspektor]

As Edgar shook his head, Lunge gave a short nod. "Two seems a likely number, in terms of balance- though there may be a helmet too, or something similar," he suggested. Thinking for a moment, he let it drop; they'd find out soon enough. "It doesn't matter, particularly. We'll have to go down to the basement anyway, whether to put the sword and shield to use somehow or search for another matching object. Let's go."

That said, he followed the two of them out of the room, out into the hallway and fell into a considerative silence. Edgar's last comment was revealing: why some patients work so hard to keep the secrets of this place to themselves, I will never know. So the man was as open as he'd seemed in their first meeting- open and willing to trust, though clearly not at random. The way he'd spoken about it made clear the sense of risk attached to sharing information. It was a venture, almost a gamble. Doubtless L would appreciate his point of view; it was L, after all, who'd attempted to bring together the Institute's investigators in one place weeks before.

And then the radio crackled in his pocket and Lunge lifted his head. Edgar had retrieved his own first and fished it out already; the crackle-hiss just barely in-sync, the sound became all the more surreal as the voices, one muffled and one clear, doubled. But not to two. To four.

It was impossible for Lunge to prevent his eyes from widening, or his mouth from opening a fraction in bewilderment. How had Landel escaped? Did they simply let him go? But why? And how had Marc found him afterwards? For one bitter moment he found himself wishing that they'd had the good fortune to run into the rebel just a few nights later so that they could ask him in person, and perhaps ask Landel himself- but then he let his focus slip towards the words themselves, the language. One step at a time.

Aguilar didn't know how to run the Institute, hmm? Interesting. He seemed to be doing quite well so far, but there was doubtless more to it than met the eye. "Always has to be the centre of attention, doesn't he?" he commented under his breath as Landel spoke on. As dramatically as possible, of course.