Day 28; Bus 3
There was, Naomi decided, some sort of cosmic irony in all of this. Not that she was trapped in a deranged and possibly other-worldly asylum with a man she'd idolized for years and a boy who was being investigated for - among other things - the murder of her fiance. No, at this point, those were perfectly normal occurrences. Rather it was the
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Having dragged her feet as long as she could, Claire was finally escorted out by an annoyed nurse who informed her she was holding everyone else up. That was just fine. As much as Claire hated Landels, she was suspicious of any place these freaks wanted to take her.
Placed next to the nearest (and possibly only, from what she could see) open seat, Claire slid in next to TK but didn't sit just yet, scanning the bus for Wesker or that rude boy she'd pried off a girl not a few days ago.
She was sure it was him. The same one who attacked her. He'd messed up by letting her hear his voice, and she wasn't going to let him get away with what he'd done. Claire's search was cut short as she was quickly pushed down by a staff member as the doors closed and the bus started moving.
Sighing, she turned to TK, eying his own clothing with an arched eyebrow. "Nice shirt," she said.
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He jumped slightly when the transport powered up, unsure of what to make of all the noise and the shaking. Noise was fine, he was used to troop carriers that made an awful amount of noise. But the weird vibrating buzz of the whole structure didn't inspire confidence. As such (with the added bonus of complete social ineptitude), he didn't really pick up on any sarcasm on the comment about his clothing. "I haven't got the faintest idea what it stands for." It didn't make any more sense having to look at it upside down, either. But a floating eyeball was weird, no matter what orientation it was viewed from.
Enough of that. "What happened at the end of the nightshift? I just woke up in my cell, and don't know how I got there."
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Claire took the muffin out of her bag and pouted at it, as though it was the cause for all her anxiety.
Turning a bit, she let her eyes roam the bus before she spotted her target before turning back to TK. Well, he was here. She'd deal with him when they got off the bus.
"About the kitchen," Claire started before putting her muffin away again, "do you still want to try for it tonight? See if it really does lead anywhere?"
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"If you think that's a reasonable goal. I haven't seen enough of the place at night to give any informed input." He had smelled a hell of a lot of blood coming from the bathrooms, though.
The food in the bag was just another mystery for TK. He could figure out the 'muffin' easily enough, although the paper wrapping around its base would have become a surprise if he hadn't checked the thing before taking a bite. But the 'juice box'? The packaging seemed to be designed by a sadistic genius. Once he had managed to get the thin little straw out of its packaging, it refused to poke a hole in the foil covering the hole labeled 'insert straw here'. Then once it finally did, the contents of the box somehow leaked out onto his hand. Has this food company ever considered switching over to designing secure vaults?
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Reaching into her bag, she found a napkin and took his hand in hers, wiping the liquid away. "Don't worry, it's happened to the best of us," she said, unable to keep from grinning.
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This just managed to make him more embarrased. He was a thirteen-year-old Sergeant, for fek's sake, so why the hell was he acting like a five-year-old who had missed a question on a tactical theory exam?!
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"I haven't been in all the rooms, but the second floor doesn't have much to offer if you're looking for escape." she made sure her voice was slightly lowered, not wanting to alert the staff. "There's the church and some offices, I think."
She tried to remember anything else she'd seen from the bulletin. "I heard about some experiments they do on patients some nights. I'm not sure what they are, but I think they go on up there, too."
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Thank the Emperor, a subject I can actually talk about. "Any tools for maintenance and repair might be on the second floor, to restrict prisoner access to anything that could be useful." They had to have something like that within immediate access for staff. Problems always arose in any situation, and you needed tools available to fix them.
"Those would probably happen in a secure, possibly guarded area. I'm not sure if attempting to gain access to it would be advisable." He had partially slipped into the sort of tone that he used when trying to explain to an NCO why their new grand plan could very well be a disaster.
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