The dinner announcement came as something utterly unexpected. Rather than Harrington's excited tones, the calm accented voice of the General drifted through the intercom speakers
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arghh, I'm really sorry >:herr_inspektorSeptember 9 2011, 14:28:29 UTC
Lunge listened, nodded. One of the doors in the ballroom- yes, it was hard to miss those ones. The white marble, the intricate carvings he hadn't quite managed to make out at a distance, all marked them out as obvious goals. He'd have been able to work out that much even if he hadn't spoken to Dent first.
But it was important to establish the the sequence of events in perfect order, if he was to replicate them with L soon enough. That, and... well. Perhaps there was a chance that in that chain of actions he would find a loophole- a way of outsmarting the system that would prevent them from walking into the same fate that Jones had.
Unlikely- Landel had ample opportunity to iron out the wrinkles in his games before he was taken away. Even Aguilar is thorough enough that, should he be the one running the basement now, it will be near-impossible to take advantage of the system in any way.
His mouth twitched a fraction. "What happened when you walked through the doors?" This was the new territory- the part he hadn't had a chance to see with his own eyes. He looked up, waiting.
This was where it was going to get hard. Harvey knew he was just going to have to keep it clinical, deliver the facts to get it over with and keep emotions to the side. He got the feeling that Lunge would prefer an explanation like that, anyway. So, after he realized that he'd been anxiously gripping at the sheets on his bed, he forced himself to stop and then looked over at his roommate.
"We ended up in a--"
And then, before he could actually say anything useful, it was as if his throat had closed up. A hand shot up to his throat as he tried to swallow through it, force past it. He didn't think he was choking up or anything like that. There was no way this was nerves. He coughed, shook his head, and tried again.
"There was a--"
But it happened all over again, and more than that, he was starting to feel a vague pain in his head. He should have been able to blurt it all out, and yet it was almost as if he was being blocked. He frowned down at his lap and then looked at Lunge again.
"I don't think I can tell you. Not like how you're thinking, but..." He sighed, his thoughts so jumbled by this strange turn of events that it was hard to get his words out properly. "I literally can't say."
Had the traumatic segment of their night really began so early? As Dent's explanation broke off Lunge's hand flattened for a moment, mid-type, and he raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. It seemed unlikely that Jones should be killed so suddenly, without any sort of explanation or lead-in- that just wasn't in keeping with Landel's attention-drawing style at all. And yet at the same time, it didn't seem in keeping with Dent's style for the man to get so obviously nervous.
And while the first time had struck the inspector as suspicious, well- the second was downright bizarre. By this point it was obvious that the hold-up wasn't coming naturally to his roommate at all, the man frowning and struggling to put into words what the problem was.
When he did articulate the problem, though, however uncertainly, everything fell into place.
"You're saying that you're being physically blocked from telling me what happened?" he clarified, leaning forward with interest. Now this was unexpected- and enlightening. He'd half-written off his conversation on the bulletin board about being unable to speak as obvious evasion, and yet here he was, seeing it in action. "How thorough is it? Chronology aside, can you tell me what you were ultimately expected to do, for example?"
At least Lunge was smart enough to follow what he was saying almost immediately. At this point Harvey hardly had the patience for trying to explain what was going on and so he only nodded firmly in response to his roommate's question. How was Aguilar even doing this? It had to be some sort of hypnosis or mind control, and the idea that someone had messed around in his head only made his hatred of the general grow.
Of course, now Lunge was trying to get more out of him, and while the very thought of trying to push past the mental barrier again was exhausting, he could understand why the man was trying to look at it from every angle.
And so he tried again even though he already knew that it was futile. "Well, I didn't--"
But he couldn't even say that much, couldn't even admit the fact that he hadn't been a part of what had happened, had instead only watched. He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. "No, sorry, I don't think I can tell you anything about what happened after we walked through that door." He wondered if he would be able to write it down, but he was sure Aguilar would have thought of that little loophole.
Of all the things he'd expected to add to his understanding of with this conversation, his leads regarding Landel's private conversations were not one of them. An idea of the basement's M.O., a general rundown of what to expect, those were more like it, and yet in a way this was far more useful to know. After all, he would be experiencing the basement first hand when the time came, and while it would have been endlessly useful to know how things were going to go down there so that he and L could plan around it, the fact was that there was probably nothing he could have done to help their odds.
This, on the other hand, was a minor breakthrough. "How interesting," he commented after a moment, bridging his hands across his lap, one leg crossed over the other. "You're the second person I've had this conversation with today. The first was on the bulletin board," he added, unconsciously echoing Dent's thoughts, "so I doubt you'd be able to write anything down, either."
But where did that leave him? If there was no way of getting around the block, did that mean that there was no mileage left in that angle anymore? Hand Landel truly covered his tracks that well? The thought was infuriating- impossible, even.
But it was important to establish the the sequence of events in perfect order, if he was to replicate them with L soon enough. That, and... well. Perhaps there was a chance that in that chain of actions he would find a loophole- a way of outsmarting the system that would prevent them from walking into the same fate that Jones had.
Unlikely- Landel had ample opportunity to iron out the wrinkles in his games before he was taken away. Even Aguilar is thorough enough that, should he be the one running the basement now, it will be near-impossible to take advantage of the system in any way.
His mouth twitched a fraction. "What happened when you walked through the doors?" This was the new territory- the part he hadn't had a chance to see with his own eyes. He looked up, waiting.
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"We ended up in a--"
And then, before he could actually say anything useful, it was as if his throat had closed up. A hand shot up to his throat as he tried to swallow through it, force past it. He didn't think he was choking up or anything like that. There was no way this was nerves. He coughed, shook his head, and tried again.
"There was a--"
But it happened all over again, and more than that, he was starting to feel a vague pain in his head. He should have been able to blurt it all out, and yet it was almost as if he was being blocked. He frowned down at his lap and then looked at Lunge again.
"I don't think I can tell you. Not like how you're thinking, but..." He sighed, his thoughts so jumbled by this strange turn of events that it was hard to get his words out properly. "I literally can't say."
Reply
And while the first time had struck the inspector as suspicious, well- the second was downright bizarre. By this point it was obvious that the hold-up wasn't coming naturally to his roommate at all, the man frowning and struggling to put into words what the problem was.
When he did articulate the problem, though, however uncertainly, everything fell into place.
"You're saying that you're being physically blocked from telling me what happened?" he clarified, leaning forward with interest. Now this was unexpected- and enlightening. He'd half-written off his conversation on the bulletin board about being unable to speak as obvious evasion, and yet here he was, seeing it in action. "How thorough is it? Chronology aside, can you tell me what you were ultimately expected to do, for example?"
Reply
Of course, now Lunge was trying to get more out of him, and while the very thought of trying to push past the mental barrier again was exhausting, he could understand why the man was trying to look at it from every angle.
And so he tried again even though he already knew that it was futile. "Well, I didn't--"
But he couldn't even say that much, couldn't even admit the fact that he hadn't been a part of what had happened, had instead only watched. He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. "No, sorry, I don't think I can tell you anything about what happened after we walked through that door." He wondered if he would be able to write it down, but he was sure Aguilar would have thought of that little loophole.
Reply
Of all the things he'd expected to add to his understanding of with this conversation, his leads regarding Landel's private conversations were not one of them. An idea of the basement's M.O., a general rundown of what to expect, those were more like it, and yet in a way this was far more useful to know. After all, he would be experiencing the basement first hand when the time came, and while it would have been endlessly useful to know how things were going to go down there so that he and L could plan around it, the fact was that there was probably nothing he could have done to help their odds.
This, on the other hand, was a minor breakthrough. "How interesting," he commented after a moment, bridging his hands across his lap, one leg crossed over the other. "You're the second person I've had this conversation with today. The first was on the bulletin board," he added, unconsciously echoing Dent's thoughts, "so I doubt you'd be able to write anything down, either."
But where did that leave him? If there was no way of getting around the block, did that mean that there was no mileage left in that angle anymore? Hand Landel truly covered his tracks that well? The thought was infuriating- impossible, even.
Reply
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