Night 56: Main Hallway, 1-West
[From here.]He had reached the meeting point in less than a few minutes and there was still not another patient to be seen. Castiel paused, standing near the wall as he moved his flashlight up and down the corridor. There was nothing, not the sound of a shadow slipping through the dark; not the whisper of something less than human
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When she'd stopped laughing, Lana schooled her face into something resembling a serious expression, and gave Ema a serious answer.
"I'd expected a little more polish from the man who could defeat Miles Edgeworth." Mmm. How should she put this without insulting either Phoenix or Ema's judgement. "He's very...earnest."
Mia had been, too, but she'd been eighteen when Lana had met her, and she'd grown up a lot before even setting foot in the courtroom. Personal feeling had very little to do with law; they'd disagreed on that repeatedly, though it shouldn't surprise her that she'd found an apprentice that shared her values.
"He recovers quickly, I'll give him that. And his heart is in the right place." There had to be courage under that terrified-rabbit expression; perhaps he was better at summoning it in familiar surroundings. Or perhaps he'd just found her someone he could relax around; goodness knew, he'd seen her at her worst, even if she could only imagine what she must have put him through. He'd had practice on Edgeworth, though, and a certain teenaged informant; her façade had likely been almost as transparent to him as it was to Ema, despite her hard work. Ah, well. What was done was done, in her future/his past, and all for the better, in the long run.
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That morning, sitting in the hallway outside of Mr. Wright's office, felt like ages ago, despite only being a little over a week. So much had happened since she arrived in the Institute that it was becoming harder and harder to think of home in any immediate sense. Besides, her mood when she met Mr. Wright hardly mattered now. Lana didn't kill Detective Goodman and the sisters were actually sisters again. That mattered more than anything.
The frown faded when Lana gave a serious answer to the question Ema posed. "You should see him in court. It's like riding a roller coaster. Sometimes he's doing really well and sometimes he gets really, really discouraged. And sometimes he makes mistakes and you have to keep him in line." But he was doing it for the right reasons and, so far, was doing really well in helping her. Ema couldn't bring herself to dislike Mr. Wright, inexperience and occasional lack of poise and all. "I think you'll like him, once you get to know each other."
She would have continued with why, but the sound of movement and a beam of light moving down the hallway caught her attention. Ema squinted into the darkness but was unable to discern much else. To Lana, she asked, "Can you see someone over there?"
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He'd heard the radios other people carried come to life, despite not carrying his own, and knew that voice more than well enough to recognize it. The bugs babbled something about not being willing to adjust conclusions he'd already drawn, but Mello ignored them, and stepped into the path of the two women, certain they'd noticed him.
"What did he say?" He doubted an antecedent was necessary for that 'he.' If Landel had joined forces with the rebels, Mello would have bet cash he didn't have, here, that it was only because it was expedient: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. He wasn't convinced that the devil he knew was preferable to the devil he hadn't taken the full measure of yet. Obviously Landel felt proprietary towards the patients and the Institute. He'd seemed to have preferred nudging his unwilling subjects along, as opposed to outright forcing them; but Mello did understand, had felt for himself, the need to produce results, and neither Landel nor Aguilar had made their requirements explicit. Not that Mello would've been likely to cooperate even if they had.
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He hadn't heard it? No problem. Lana didn't have Lunge's photographic memory, but she could certainly summarize every salient point, including the half-dozen tidbits where her hands had twitched with the frustration of not being able to ask for clarification.
"Martin Landel claimed to be a 'purveyor of psychological experimentation', put in place by the government. Either he was bluffing or he shares the town's immunity to permanent death, unlike the previous broadcaster, whose equipment is, for the moment, in Marc's hands. He claimed multiple reasons we should listen closely, but detailed only one, unless that squeal at the end contained a hidden code. That one piece was that there is a 'surprise' in the basement, and that the doors there that were shut can now be opened. I'm afraid that I've never been down there, so I can't verify any of that. Ah, and that, as long as Aguilar is in charge, he claims to want to help us escape, using his remaining ability to 'run' the institute."
Lana's tone started out dry and ended parched enough to send rookie defense attorneys to the lobby for a drink of water before they could again produce words, but it was aimed at the radio, not her fellow prisoners. "That feedback has never been followed by anything good; I doubt it has anything to do with faulty equipment." She leaned over and set down her flashlight, unwilling to let Ema go, and extended a hand. "Lana Skye."
Then she looked at Ema, eyebrows raised. It was both a chance to introduce herself and an invitation to add anything Lana had missed; and, if she was being truthful, a way to make sure she was alright without letting the man know that anything might be wrong besides what was already evident.
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Before either sister could react, someone approached the two of them and asked about the broadcast. So she had noticed someone down the hall before! Lana fielded the question, summarizing the major details of the broadcast and introducing herself. A few moments passed before Ema realized that her sister was looking down at her expectantly.
"I'm Ema Skye. We're sisters." Ema spared a brief glance up at her sister, smiling slightly. The earplugs had made a huge difference; later on, Ema owed Lana a very big 'thank you' for them. "It sounds like Dr. Landel and Marc are working together, but they're not getting along very well. I don't know if Marc really trusts him. And I don't know if I do, either." The idea that Dr. Landel's motives weren't as nefarious as they all believed--that he was compelled by a government they don't know, that he was actually protecting them in some way--was too uncomfortable to consider. Not after everything Ema had been put through.
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"Morgan," he said, giving Lana's hand a brief shake, and nodding towards her sister. "Which previous broadcaster are you referring to?" The first he'd heard here had been that woman and her bullshit clues. He made a grudging mental note to start carrying his radio in future, though he wasn't ever going to fall for those again. One injury on a pointless wild goose chase was enough. The older of the two women had given a rundown that even he admitted, silently, of course, was impressive in its detail, but he still would've liked to have heard it for himself. He also would've loved to know what government had supposedly sanctioned this, if only to satisfy his own curiosity, but fat chance of that, and it didn't really matter. They were legit enough in whatever reality this was to have muscle and funds to put behind this 'project.'
This was the second time today those damn doors downstairs had been brought to his mind. Mello still didn't believe the 'surprise' was anything a smart prisoner would want any part of. Another dubious accomplishment to distract the rats with, and he was beginning to think checking out might be a viable option, the only one that didn't play into anyone's plans, but no. It wasn't an acceptable option either. He thought of Matt, hiding in his room for the night, and wished like hell he had a better argument for him about why it was unacceptable than just stating that it was.
"And I don't trust any of them," he added, pushing those thoughts away, and glancing towards Ema again in acknowledgment of her similar skepticism. "Not even far enough to believe any of their motives are what they'd like us to think." And he certainly didn't believe they intended to help anyone get out.
"You heading upstairs too?" It couldn't hurt to have company, especially company that had a radio; and they were both sharp enough that Mello didn't mind that they were a package deal, which it was clear they were, given the older sister's protectiveness.
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That didn't mean he was on their side, or that he cared for their well-being beyond how it fit into his own plans, but it meant she was at least curious. "That was the plan. We were going to take a look at the files. I don't suggest those stairs," she said. "We're better off avoiding both the Sun Room and the balconies." There could be just as many brainwashed patients over on the other halls, but at least they wouldn't be inviting trouble.
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