Day 24: Intercom, Dinner

[damned_intercom]

The intercom jingle rang out both inside and outside the institute on speakers loud enough to broadcast clearly across the recreational field

Comments

M40

[jei]

Farfarello staggered just a little as he made his way back to his room. The deliciously unfamiliar pain in his head was distracting, very distracting, and he kept having to remind himself to pay attention to things like walking, going in the right direction, and not bursting into hysterical laughter where the nurses could hear him.

When he entered the room, the smell of food brought him back to reality just a little. Chicken and potatoes, from the smell of things. Ah, home again home again; potatoes, potatoes, everywhere. ... He did like them, though. Damn Irish blood.

Settling down to eat, Farfarello tried to think how to prepare for nightfall. It was uncertain if Schuldig would be up and about by then, but Crawford would probably want to fulfill their 'obligations' to the prospective employer anyway, even without Schuldig. In any case, Farfarello wanted in on the promised violence.

The one down side of the fantastic agony in his head was that it made thinking and planning rather more difficult. Well. Eat first, think later. And didn't he have a roommate of some sort? There was someone asleep in the other bed, this morning. Probably. It was hard to remember, what with the rage and the sedation that followed his waking.

Re: M40

[intoindra]

Roland hadn't known what to think of the sudden fits that had seemed to seize someone, and then there was screaming, and... Roland was getting really tired of all that screaming. One when he woke up, one when he was in the yard; he guessed that it came with the territory of an insane asylum, but still.

He didn't like screaming. He'd gotten more than enough of that as it was.

There was food. Pot pie, peas, and mashed potatoes. Food that did little to nothing for him. Still, he went through the motions of eating at least the pot pie. There was, at least, enough meat to slake some of the hunger he could feel building in the back of his mind. Or at least it felt like it could.

Meanwhile he glanced at his room mate as he sank down on his own bed, not saying anything for the moment. He'd certainly had a rough life, judging from all those scars, and he also seemed a bit... distracted. Hm. Perhaps just resting would be in his cards.

Shame that the fruit juice couldn't be something a little harder. That would have at least helped him sleep.

Re: M40

[jei]

Farfarello kept part of his attention on his roommate while he ate, or at least as much as he could. What he really wanted was to just lie back and enjoy the pain while it lasted, but he needed to be ready for the night, and anyway, there was a stranger in the room, so he could hardly relax.

At least his roommate didn't seem to be anything like that blasted girl from lunch. She was going to cause him trouble, he could feel it.

When he finished his meal, Farfarello was finally able to devote a little more attention to his roommate. "... We seem to be stuck with each other. We might as well exchange names."

Re: M40

[intoindra]

"So it seems," Roland quietly agreed, his fork idly playing with the veggies of the pot pie. He speared a pea, started bringing it to his lips... then thought better of it, putting it down and pushing the tray away. Instead he took out his journal, opening it up to the first blank page.

"I'm Roland," he finally said, tapping a pen against his journal as he thought, only to chuckle and faintly grin. "I'll try not to snore too loudly."

Re: M40

[jei]

Farfarello twitched slightly at the mention of snoring. He hoped it was a joke, he really did--he'd been sleeping alone for the last several years, except for occasional visits from Schuldig, and snoring was not something he'd had to deal with. "... I'm Farfarello."

Not that Farfarello particularly cared about this man's welfare, but if he died maybe they'd stick some sort of noisy kid in as his new room mate, and that would suck considerably worse, so. Might as well put in some minor effort to see to it that Roland survived the night. "I assume you've been warned about what happens at night."

Re: M40

[intoindra]

That twitch made Roland raise an eyebrow, yet he didn't say anything at all as to whether it was a joke or not. Nor did the man do anything but muse when he heard the other's name; as an author, it was his business to know where names came from. 'What's in a name,' and all that.

But when Farfarello made that statement, that caught the pale man's attention. "...unless you're referring to what we're going through now, no. I haven't been given much of a chance to find out what's wrong."

Re: M40

[jei]

For a long moment, Farfarello just stared at Roland blankly. Great. Just great. Now he had to summon the concentration to explain nightshift to apparently the only person in the blasted place that hadn't heard about it. If his migraine was real instead of psychic, it probably would be getting worse. "... When night falls, the place changes. Monsters roam the halls, patients are brainwashed to fight against their friends, people die, that kind of shit."

Re: M40

[intoindra]

"...ah." A very slight purse of the lips was the only physical response that explanation drew from Roland, the man not apparently surprised in the least. From that blank stare that had been drawn, Roland further had to deduce that the monsters were a terribly-kept secret... which was surprising. There hadn't been a single hint of it during the day.

"I imagine that these 'monsters' have powers greater than what you possess; why haven't they simply eaten everyone by now? For that matter... I assume that you're going to be going out anyway? You don't seem like the type to enjoy sitting still."

Re: M40

[jei]

"People who have powers find them weaker here. I wouldn't know about that, I never had any." Some people called his inability to feel pain a "power," but having lived with it his entire life, and the many downsides it presented, Farfarello tended to disagree. "Haven't seen any of the monsters myself, yet. But my partners have, and they apparently vary from small and fairly easy to kill, to large and unstoppable."

Lying back and closing his eye, Farfarello let the pain have its way for a few moments. It seemed to help his concentration if he took little breaks. "Why haven't they killed everyone? Same reason we've been brought here, probably. What THAT is, no one seems to agree on."

Re: M40

[intoindra]

Their powers were weaker? Roland found his gaze drifting to the atma mark emblazoned on the back of his left hand, the man scrutinizing the grinning lightning bolt and wondering about that. It seemed no different than normal, nor had his hunger really abated... hm. Interesting. "That's how monsters usually are," he offered at last, "though I've never heard of a completely unstoppable monster. Just one that takes more to kill than most people would be willing to pay."

When Farfarello leaned back, Roland managed to keep his questions to himself, at least for that little while. Why had they all been dragged into Landel's? If there were monsters, if there was struggling, then this was not Nirvana- not even a false version of it. But if the Institute was looking for more monsters to swell their ranks... that would explain why his mark yet remained. "...I wonder," he muttered at last, his gaze distant as his mind worked on this new possibility. The journal, naturally, lay forgotten on his lap.

Re: M40

[jei]

That earned a little smile from Farfarello. "Yeah. Nothing's unstoppable. Just close enough to make stopping it... unprofitable."

When Roland fell silent, Farfarello was perfectly happy to let the other man lose himself in his thoughts, and take the time to enjoy his migraine. He could understand, now, how pain would be terribly problematic during a fight--very distracting! But it was more complex than he could have imagined, throbbing and twisting and dull and sharp all at the same time; he wondered if his victims ever understood what a remarkable thing their pain really was.

Roland's soft mutter brought Farfarello out of his little trance, and he looked over at his room mate once more. "And yes, I'll be going out. Most people do, trying to map the place, or find weapons, find a way out." That this was exactly what the people in charge probably wanted either didn't occur to them, or they couldn't figure out anything better to do. Farfarello didn't really care what Landel wanted, or even about escape. He just wanted to have some damn fun.

Re: M40

[intoindra]

Huh... Farfarello smiling was something that Roland would have to remember. It seemed like a rare enough thing, and yet it oddly seemed to fit. Though the man didn't say anything more about the price that had to be paid for stopping some things; who could say why that would be?

What a strange thing, though. Roland's gaze shifted back to the other man, and he seemed almost contemplative. Something was clearly gnawing at the back of the scarred man's mind, and nosy as always, Roland wanted to know what it was.

Sadly, he was starting to get a good novel idea just from talking to this guy.

"Hm... that does beg the question, though. Is this place worse than wherever everyone comes from? I can understand the desire for freedom, and I don't plan on staying here longer than I have to, but it's still a question worth asking."

Re: M40

[jei]

"Depends on how you define 'worse', I guess." Most people from Farfarello's world would certainly think it so; Farfarello's position was rather unique, after all, going from one prison to another, one type of violence to another. "And depends on the where. Or the when. One person mentioned on the board that she was from during World War II. Do you know World War II? I forgot to ask where and when you were from."

Farfarello paused, blinking. He was all but babbling. First the text conversation with the Irish boy, now this--he was speaking more today than he had in the last year of his life combined, more likely than not. Even with Schuldig he seldom talked this much, as so little needed to be said when one was with a telepath. Well, he had all this new and interesting stuff to talk about, that was probably it. When the novelty wore off, no doubt so would this fit of verbosity.

Re: M40

[intoindra]

Not being used to Farfarello's usual mood, Roland thought that his room mate was always going to be so talkative. That would have been good; with Roland's insatiable demand for answers, he could use someone to provide all the answers he'd seek.

Of course, that indicated a need for some sort of exchange, and Roland shrugged as he gave his own answers. "I'm from the United States, around... 2030? It's been too long since I looked at a calendar. World War 2 is just a page in the history books for me."

Re: M40

[jei]

It was unusual for Farfarello, having conflicting desires; generally his wants were quite simple--out of the straightjacket, out of the cell, and some bloodshed. But now, while he very much wanted to close his eye and just exult in the agony while it lasted, he found he also wanted this conversation, much to his surprise. Being treated like an intelligent adult, capable of intelligent conversation... definitely novel.

Still, he was quiet for a while longer, letting the pain have its turn again; who knew when it would fade, and then he'd probably never feel it again. Looking at his hand, red from sunburn and scabbed and bruised where he'd bit into it earlier, Farfarello wondered at the strangeness of being able to feel the imaginary pain in his head, and not the very real, physical pain he ought to be feeling in his hand.

And all this thinking and rational discussion, today--it was starting to make him edgy, much as he'd enjoyed it and continued to enjoy it. He needed action, violence, or he was going to start bouncing off the walls.

... Room mate. Right. "2030? Huh. I'm from early 1998. The board I mentioned, it's full of information about where and when the people here are from. People talk about that a lot. They also use it to arrange meetings, mostly." ... And make crude drawings about anal sex.

Re: M40

[intoindra]

How strange. Roland's eyes focused on the man's hand as well, having recognized a bite for what it was. What confused him, however, was the fact that the man didn't have it bandaged, didn't have it treated... and that sunburn had to be painful, yet he hadn't even asked for balm or anything. How strange.

"The board, hm? I'll have to take a look; I'm sure that there's a great deal of information there. However... that does beg an obvious question. How did you, someone pre-millennium, and someone like me, from 2030, end up in the same room at the same time? Unless one or both of us are, in fact, insane, that doesn't make sense."