Night 57: M-A Block Hallway
[from here]He slipped silently down the hallway, flashlight (turned off) in hand, as he couldn't fit it into a pocket with both the bulky radio as well as the gun. A hassle, but bearable. Having a portable source of light handy with him while wandering dark corridors was actually rather helpful, even if normally, Vino wouldn't have bothered with it
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It was strange. He'd spent the entire day on edge, teasing himself with the assumption that his lord would return to visit him in the day, leaving his night to the inevitable task of searching for the man in Doyleton. Childish as it was, he hadn't made any plans for the night otherwise. He'd just... waited. Now that it had fallen through and he was left wandering through these empty halls, it was becoming increasingly obvious how little he could do here.
He couldn't trust Edward in his search for Landel, not when the vampire wanted to turn Landel's punishment into a field-trip for his fiance. Sora had his own plans and dilemmas with leading a group and as much as the assassin could assist him, he was nowhere in sight. And it was laughably pathetic that on the list of allies he could think of, only two names came to mind.
This was his existence without the Guild's power.
He needed to think, to plan. Irritated, he ran his fingers through his bangs and let his other hand tighten its grip on his cue. Determined as he was, did he really wish to search out their old captor on his own?
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With Dean gone, Claire was at a loss for a purpose. She could explore, she supposed. She could try to unravel what Charlotte was, return to her room and wring her memories for solid images and sounds that had nothing to do with islands or Others. She could test the boundaries of whatever this was. Attack something, try to break the illusion. Find evidence towards or against the nights of Landel's as an illusion. Her injuries carried over, but how much of that was her own perception and how much was reality?
She stood alone in the hallways, pondering her next move with unnatural stillness. A halo of white caught the corner of her eye. She turned and found Venom.
In what was probably the most hideously reprehensible costume known to mankind. Claire blinked. Guess that was one point for this all being a dream.
"...Venom?"
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"Ms. Littleton." He hadn't seen here since the altercation in town, though she had written she was in good health. That didn't take back what he'd done or the fact that he'd sabotaged her gift, even if them taking it away was only temporary. It shouldn't have happened in the first place.
He didn't bother taking any further steps to be closer to the woman, though his tone of voice was at least partially less cold than it usually was. "What are you doing here?" Was she lost?
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Good god, she hoped not.
"I was giving some chocolate to Dean," she elaborated, still bunny-stunned. It did not occur to her in the slightest to explain who Dean was. It was the honest answer, and that was all that mattered to her these days. "But I don't know what I'm doing now. Is this your hall?" She cast a quick glance down to sectioned rows, wondering which he'd come from. He had caught her eye far too late to figure out which.
Curious, and having just enough tact left within her to avoid asking about the clothes, she went for the next biggest puzzle. "Where are you going tonight?"
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...It was in both of their favors that her answer and subsequent question kept them off the subject of suitable fashion sense, because any outsider could clearly get the impression that neither one of them had any.
"Dean is my cellmate," he responded, an eyebrow raising at the notion that Claire would walk this far to only give him candy. Still, it explained where the man went to, at least until this moment. It also meant he hadn't been sleeping for long--he doubted Ms. Littleton would be standing here for hours without anything to do. He hoped she wouldn't. They hadn't known each other long enough for him to be sure.
Her next question, however, only resulted in a long stare. Where am I going? He should know the answer to that. He should go after Landel, research the way the facility is run, sneak into the higher levels of the institute-- "I haven't decided." If Ms. Littleton decided to follow, he couldn't allow himself to put her into that much danger.
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"He seems sweet," she remarked carefully. Not for fear of Venom's opinion on the matter, but her own. In light of recent events it was hard to say whether Claire truly could have an opinion on Dean, being that the conversation she just had with him might not have happened at all. She couldn't judge people by how they treated her at night. Daylight might not prevent her from imagining things, but it provided a more solid basis than this did. Just look at that outfit. And Battler's suit - when Claire knew full well that no man in his right mind would trek about at night in white. He was a moving target.
Even she was here, in her old island clothes (if the island happened), carrying a bag full of lollies and an axe. How likely did that seem? For the past three years, absolutely nothing in her life came close to being believable. A man named John who turned into smoke. Her dead father and a long lost brother. Islands with secret temples and polar bears and wicked societies creeping through the bush. Scotsmen who could tell the future. And now there was this - the sudden switch of setting, trading sand and palm trees for linoleum and needles, and with night came trolls and vampires and rings that zapped you from one corner to another. Didn't that have more in common with elaborate hallucinations than any kind of reality?
She wasn't digressing. It was precisely those thoughts that lead her to nod along with Venom, finding she didn't care. What did it matter what she did at night if none of this was happening in the first place?
"Me neither," she said softly. Claire pursed her lips and swung her torch skywards, finding an intercom speaker in the long trail of the ceiling. "Maybe we should see what that medicine thing is. It sounds important. Doesn't it?"
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Mr. Dean hadn't enjoyed being greeted formally. He could only imagine how he'd react to being called that.
Venom shook his head to himself, putting those thoughts aside. Doing so gave him enough time to follow the beam of light the woman began to move and contemplate her words. 'Medicine thing?' Ah, the Medical Wing? ...Yes, he remembered now, the words just barely having made a mark in the back of his mind. That had been what The Eagle had mentioned, hadn't it? Before he had fallen asleep. "There's a high probability others will be seeking it out as well," he said immediately as he pulled his cue into both of his hands, tightening and untightening the joint as he thought. "Are you sure you wish to get into such heavy traffic?" Though it did sound important. As much as he wouldn't put it past his captors to leave it as another dead-end for his investigation, there had to at least be something interesting there. It was far more safe than taking Ms. Littleton to search out Martin Landel.
His hands stilled their nervous movements eventually, and he tilted his head toward the woman, his hair parting enough to fix one blue eye on her. "If that is what you want to do, I'll follow."
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Venom seemed the type to agree with that sort of logic, at least. Though logic was still a debatable point where he was concerned. That was a pool cue he was holding.
Claire decided not to question it anymore.
"Shall we?" She raised her brows at him, adjusting the strap of her bag and hefting the axe to rest on her shoulder. Then she spun on her heel and was gone.
[To here.]
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