[Nightshift 28] M-B Block, 41-50 hallway
[from hereRenji kept his pace to a fast walk, one hand still lightly against the wall as he headed for his room. He counted doorways; that would tell him which one was his, though he could have done just as well counting his paces, too
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Once Claude was certain Ashton and Axel couldn't see him through the darkness anymore, his sprint dissolved into a slower pace. Being without a flashlight left him at a disadvantage, and he knew he couldn't afford to get lost. Fortunately the way to his room was pretty simple, otherwise Claude was sure it would have taken him a lot longer to find it.
Tonight was pretty weird. The Institute seemed a lot emptier than normal. Not to mention he hadn’t caught sight of Leon as he made his way back to his room. Hopefully he was okay. Martin Landel had really pulled a fast one on everybody tonight…
The blond shook himself out of his thoughts as he entered his room. It didn’t take him long to dig Ashton’s sword out from under his mattress. The blade’s weight felt foreign, but oddly comforting in a place where monsters were lurking in the dark. Claude was a little disappointed that he’d be giving it back so soon, essentially leaving himself unarmed. But it was unfair to deprive Ashton of one of his hard-earned weapons. He’d just have to find a way to make do until he was able to scrape together the materials for something better.
It wasn’t until Claude was gathering together his journal (and maps), flashlight and coat that he noticed something of a little more interest in the closet.
“Well hello there,” he said suddenly, pushing aside the standard Landel’s clothes to reveal a startlingly familiar sight: a brown jacket, a belt and a pair of white slacks hung neatly on a couple of hangers. All standard Earth Federation gear, of course, but still very much his. The first thing he pulled from the closet was the jacket, and upon further examination, he was relieved to find it still said Claude C. Kenni on both sleeves. At this rate, he’d figured they would have replaced it with Thomas whatever his name was just to mess with him.
Without even really thinking, Claude stripped out of the clothes, tossing them haphazardly onto Asch’s bed. It only took him a few minutes to pull his black tank top over his head and shrug on his jacket. The fit was familiar and friendly -- a nice change to the drab uniforms he’d been forced into the past couple of days. After he put on his trousers, he noticed his shoes, red headband, fingerless gloves, and--
Sucking in a small breath, he picked up his small communicator and turned it slowly in his hands. It appeared undamaged, but did that mean it could actually…?
The blond flipped the device open and pulled the antennae out to its full length. The emergency code was easy enough to remember, especially with how many times he’d punched it in back on Expel. He waited a few moments, actually holding his breath.
OUT OF EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION RANGE, came a stilted, tinny voice. TRANSMISSION/RECEPTION DISABLED.
Claude swore under his breath, but, really, he knew he shouldn’t have been expecting anything different. Just because they’d given his stuff back for some reason didn’t mean they were out to do him any favors or give him an easy way out.
But it still begged the question of why? Why do all of this, just for him? He, Asch and Luke had gone on a quest looking for their stuff and had come out empty-handed. And then a couple of days later their captors just conveniently placed everything in his closet? It didn’t make sense.
Maybe Ashton would know more about it. Speaking of whom, Claude really needed to get back to him and Axel. He’d wasted enough time getting everything in order. At this rate, Ashton was going to think something terrible had happened to him, and he certainly didn’t want that. After jamming his notebook into one of his baggy pockets, slipping on the gloves, and tying on his headband, Claude clipped on his communicator despite how useless it was. Then, he picked up his flashlight and Ashton’s sword.
He only paused long enough to place his paperboy cap on his head (he’d grown rather fond of it) before heading out the door and back into the darkness.
((To here.))
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