Day 57: Patient Library (Fourth Shift)

[razing_phoenix]

That movie had been far more depressing than Guy had been ready for. It might not have been as bad if it hadn't all been based on real events, but knowing that people had tried so hard to escape only for so many to die was rather sobering

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[herr_inspektor]

Lunge couldn't say why it was that speaking to Bella had made him feel at all better, but it had. And on today of all days... it was impossible to ignore the fact that his mind automatically made the connections between the girl and his own daughter, try as he might to brush them off, when he knew that he'd spent the past shift just waiting to be called in to see her again. There were a few physical similarities- the pale skin, the dark hair- but by and large he knew that he had the Institute's torture to thank for the association.

What a bother (what a joke that you think you can just dismiss it so easilyThere weren't going to be any visitors for him this time, it seemed. Good. As the shift ended Lunge rose out of his seat and made for the door, ready to check his bulletin again- and then he paused. Standing alone there, by the book case, was Lelouch. Well. That was one thing for him to do

[herr_inspektor]

"Likewise. There's always a shortage of information-gatherers and investigators here." An understatement: what Lunge wanted was a team of specialists and a collection of relevant experiences, but obviously that wasn't going happen except by some incredible fluke. Fortunately, Lamperouge was among the sharper of the ones they had here, and one who had somehow ended up with the most authoritative clout on the bulletin board.

He paused, stepping back so that Lelouch could move away from the bookcase. "I've managed to write in the radio and intercom broadcasts up to two nights ago. Would it be alright to finish that up while we talk? I can do it automatically well enough."

[arakhnes]

Library. Libraries brought comfort. She had good memories of being in libraries, nice, quiet, non-chaotic ones that didn't involve her getting her head thrown into a wall or giant animal-men breaking through doors or something. Libraries were nice. Good library, good.

But her first real day in the Institute was coming to a close and it was a lot better than the night before, which wasn't really saying something. Anything topped the night before. Everything topped it. But that didn't mean she was satisfied with being here. No, not in the least. And better yet, libraries meant information. There had to be something here she could use to learn something -- anything. She didn't know quit what she wanted to find out, especially what the chances were of her discovering something no one else had before her.

However, imagine her surprise when she realized all the books were fiction. All of them

[arakhnes]

She raised an eyebrow at what she supposed he was trying to imitate a heart attack or something, shrugging it off as her original just being weird again, as always. (Not like she was in any position to talk.) However, her own expression turned into one that was similar to guilt and she pulled her head back, disappearing behind her stacks of novels, making sure he couldn't get a good look at her face.

Great, he was still mad. She knew the look. She could guess his thoughts.

"Peter, I wasn't trying to start anything. Really."

She found herself replying hurriedly, trying to keep her tone level and cool. But she did feel bad about it. She didn't expect half his friends to be so paranoid, and she didn't expect that -- that freak to start harassing him. She didn't say anything more, just shifting in her spot and letting that trademarked Parker guilt wash over her internally. It was easy to get them to feel bad about something and she knew she had done something wrong. But it gave her something to work with and that was all she wanted

[deathandgin]

With the unbelievable amount of great news that had just been thrust upon his unsuspecting head - which included becoming the new official walking blood bank of Damon Salvatore, being shoved into gray sweatpants because the institute was back to its ruse-y ways, and the fact that Rose was walking around still and he hadn't seen her and apparently only he recognized her - well, he shouldn't have been so interested in the prospect of the patient library. He should have known it would be a giant disappointment

[razing_phoenix]

While Guy had been scanning some of the spines of the books purely out of curiosity, he wasn't distracted enough to miss the fact that there was another patient nearby who took a moment to bang his head against one of the shelves. It wasn't hard enough to be labeled as self-harm, and yet it was pretty obvious that the man wasn't having the best of days. Were the visitors to blame, or something else

[deathandgin]

Alaric puffed a sigh upwards, shifting the stray hairs at his forehead. "Figures." Not one historical, geographical, or even local authors section in Doyleton's bookstores, and not one of the newspapers or magazines around had listed addresses or cities or states or country. It was unbelievably thorough. Even the citizens of the nearby town didn't make any slips.

Creepy.

That's what he was thinking before the guy's question, though. That deserved a respectful moment of silence. Respectful for how well this guy had to be living under a freaking rock.

"Seriously?" It was kind of hard to miss the disbelief in his voice. He couldn't help it. Stephen King had been translated into, like, every language, so even someone who wasn't American... okay, he wasn't that ethro-centric, but still. It was a striking question when you couldn't turn to the Sci-Fi channel without seeing a rerun of the freaking Stand on every hour of the day.

He scanned the nearest shelf, remembering he'd seen a few of his novels - mostly the older classics. Carrie

[razing_phoenix]

It seemed that asking that question had immediately given him away, though Guy made no act of being from this planet originally. Sometimes it was easier not to bring it up, but in this case he'd been curious enough to not worry about that. Hopefully this man wouldn't be like that other guy from a few days ago and suddenly brush him off as crazy the second that it came up

[spandexorgtfo]

Talking with Rita had raised only more questions, and Kratos' mind was still totally focused on what they had been discussing as he walked back inside the Institute, where his nurse handed him a letter with just one curt word to accompany it: "Mail." He'd accepted the envelope dazedly and was about to just skim through the contents when he unfolded the paper and noticed the name at the bottom.

Lise.

So, she had come again, but not in person this week. In any case, it was time for a change in plans. Rather than move onto another mindless, time-occupying activity, Kratos immediately folded the letter back up and retreated into the library, the quietest place he knew, in order to read it. It was only when he was firmly seated in one of the chairs that he allowed himself to open the letter again and read the contentsShe sounded worried. Stressed. Sad. A variety of emotions that Kratos would never wish upon her. He read through the letter again, scrutinizing every word and lingering on the strange cluster of splotches near the bottom

[sheepwood]

[So sorry this is late!]Bored with his routine of wandering around the Sun Room, looking at the bulletin board, starting idly at the movie they were showing, wondering where Morgan was hiding, sitting on the floor, getting off the floor, and thinking too much into what the military had done with all the kittens, Guybrush finally meandered into the library, deciding that maybe a good book would get his mind off the monotony of the day. It really shouldn't have been so monotonous: he'd made nice with two people- one who probably disliked him, and the other who only disliked him when she was out of her mind- so he couldn't say he hadn't been productive, at least

[spandexorgtfo]

[np! ♥]

Kratos had been in the process of re-reading his letter for perhaps the third or fourth time (this time particularly lingering over the blacked-out text- what names and times were so important that they required censoring?) when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another man attempting to read over his shoulder. Any other person might have remained blissfully unaware, but he had always been sensitive about possible intrusions into his privacy, almost to the point of paranoia, and had therefore trained himself to always be on edge, even when he had every right to relax.

If he had just been reading one of the books available in the library, Kratos might have simply sighed and attempted to ignore it, but this was different; this letter was personal. It was completely off-limits, especially to complete strangers who had no business knowing his business

[sheepwood]

Whoops, caught. Guybrush stiffened in surprise for half a second, then donned a mildly apologetic smile. He'd never been so good at subtlety.

Though he hadn't been able to see much, a few things were clear from the eyeful he got. Lots of censored parts, only certain people getting them- they were either invitations to a secret club or a less personal form of the same torture the institute provided with visiting hour. If the latter was the case, Guybrush reasoned he ought to keep a lookout for a bill coming to him from Schafer, Purcell and Gilbert - Attorneys at Law. If it was the former, he wasn't sure he wanted to be invited anyway. Personal time with General Aguilar (or anyone else who had no qualms with torturing hostages) didn't rank high on his list of enjoyable activities

[predictator]

It was with reluctance that Izaya left the game room, but it wouldn't do to spend all his time in one place since it was a free day, even with Mikado's rather distracting arrival. He would keep an eye on the boy from here on out, of course, but there were still others to play with, to observe.

He'd just been cutting through the Sun Room towards the library when a nurse approached him, handing him an envelope bearing heavy strike-outs across the front where a name and address had been removed. The only thing that remained legible on the envelope itself was 'Joshua Takahashi'... even the postmark had been obscured.

The nurse had moved on without so much as a word of explanation, and Izaya continued making his way to the library, where he found a chair in the corner to settle in. The letter addressed to him-more or less-piqued his curiosity; he could pick up a book after he'd satisfied that curiosity.

'Hey, idiot,' the first line read, and with each line that followed, Izaya grew more confused. Who was this from? It was signed '