Day 43: Intercom, Dawn
Good morning, and welcome to your personalized tour of Landel's Institute! My name is I.R.I.S. and I will be your automated guide during your stay here. If you have any specific questions during our tour, please direct them to the personal console in your welcome bag. We will do our very best to address any concerns you may have
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"There's no shame in it." The nurse had softened a little bit. Howl couldn't say he was entirely pleased to be earning pity points with the obviously astounded look that was frozen on his face.
Howl sat up and swung his feet off the bed. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but there were still some uncomfortably large chunks missing. Two of them had names, and Howl was worried that they could be just about anywhere. He hoped they were safe in Ingary, under Calcifer's protection, but could just imagine Michael and Sophie wandering the streets of Cardiff, looking terrified and holding hands or something equally pathetic. Although he could imagine their fear very clearly, he knew it was actually his own terror being imprinted upon them. They were of a stronger fiber than he was.
"I apologize for my earlier behavior," he said, smiling in a way that seemed genuine but was not. "I simply cannot recall how I ended up here. I don't suppose it was my sister-"
"Please, don't be angry with your family," she interrupted. "It's time for breakfast."
"Of course," he agreed. The only hint at his unhappiness was a persistent twitch in his forefinger. "I shall need to visit the washroom first." As soon as he said it, Howl felt rather naked. He could tell that he had absolutely nothing in the way of cosmetic spells, and his hair-
His hair. His HAIR.
It was lank, unwashed and a shade of very dark brown that he hadn't seen in years. Not to mention that he hadn't even started feeling distressed by his new 'clothes'. He was too distracted by his building horror to notice the look of patient pity on his nurse.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jenkins, I can't let you do that." She placed his slippers in front of him. "Doctor's orders. We can't encourage that behavior anymore."
Howl was beginning to suspect that Megan may have had him committed for narcissism. It seemed rather mundane compared to all of the other, more colorful things she might have wished to have him locked up for. However, it did rank above diagnosis: atrociously shameful relative.
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