Day 44: Lunch

[mizuhomaiden]

That had been a very frustrating shower. For many reasons. At least Raine was going to at least look at Forte. Hopefully, she'll actually heal him. The showers had also succeeded in making the ninja feel like a pervert. A mild one, but still... It was as if Yukari had picked that spot in the showers because she knew the ninja could easily see

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[perfectrecord]

Well. That had not gone as planned exactly. Though Ms. Taura's leg fracture indeed seemed to have been completely healed, it was as she had said on the board: there was little to see. Still, she was much more mobile than she had been the day before, which was telling proof for him. Furthermore, were she unoccupied for this night shift, he would have asked her to accompany him for his trip up to the Patient Possessions Storage. Unfortunately, Ms. Taura had other plans for tonight, so von Karma was on his own. Perhaps tomorrow night...

He grumbled as he saw what was for lunch. More of this disgusting, greasy food?! The French toast for breakfast had been edible enough, but it seemed that this blasted institute was intent on serving inferior swill for the noon mealtimes. He fixed himself yet another salad, then sat down at the end of one of the many unoccupied tables. As he nibbled absently at his lunch, he peered around shrewdly for familiar faces, hoping that none of them would be tempted to sit adjacent to him.

[Unknowingly waiting for the unfamiliar face of Randal Oland]

[att_901]

The nurses had a hard time trying to get him out off bed. He had a hard time convincing himself that he was capable of leaving bed. Last night he woke up to go to the bathroom and then BANG! He felt shot. No, he was shot. It was smaller than a tank shell, and larger, longer and more explosive than your average bullet.

It being called a "Door Knocker" had to be the greatest euphemism ever.

He was sure he died. When he woke up he was shaken, to say the least about his emotional state. Physically he was shaky. A giant bundle of nerves. It took all of his concentration to keep his tray still while he carried it across the cafeteria. And one could get distracted. He tripped on something, thankfully managed to keep himself from falling by leaning on the table...

... and realized that his bowl of salad managed to land on somebody's...

[fill in the blanks?]

[perfectrecord]

[I am so sorry for the delay, orz. D: ]

The location at which von Karma was sitting gave him a very good vantage point to observe the patients trickling in from the doors leading to the Sun Room. As he idly ate his lunch, he saw Franziska bursting in, ordering her nurse to prepare a tray for her. Then that worthless Detective Gumshoe entered... oh, how fearful that oaf was of his daughter. In spite of himself and his displeasure at her, the corner of the elder prosecutor's mouth turned upward, as he watched the younger von Karma swat the imbecile, using her journal as a makeshift weapon.

Splorch!

Without warning, something cold hard ricocheted off the side of von Karma's right shoulder, followed by a cold, wet substance spraying across his right cheek. He quickly turned his head in the direction of the source of this disturbance, only to find the remains of a bowl of salad landing on the floor, and yet another nervous-looking oaf standing nearby.

As he wiped what was hopefully nothing more than just salad dressing and lettuce leaves off his cheek, he quietly glared at this idiot who had trouble maintaining his balance. Hmph. Was it the curse of the von Karma family to be surrounded by fools? Franziska had that imbecilic Gumshoe, and now it seemed that von Karma had this man, just standing there gawking at him.

Finally, he demanded, gesturing to the empty space across from him, "Well? Don't just stand there. Take a seat or move on, before you toss anything more besides salad at me."

[att_901]

[no problem, was equally on hiatus o>]

He placed (almost dropped) his tray onto the table. "I'm sorry, sir!" He tried to find something in his pockets, a handkerchief maybe, or a napkin, and then remembered that he was wearing something that didn't have pockets in the first place. He tried looking for some napkins on his tray, maybe they were hiding under his plate? Nope. "I'm really sorry, I'll find something to--"

But the man commanded him to sit down, and Randal was the kind of man to obey commands. "Yes, sir!" He stood up straight immediately, and almost saluted the man. He sat down on the nearest available seat (right in front of him, which was awkward) and started to fork whatever was salvageable of his salad from the tray to his bowl.

[perfectrecord]

Hn. At least this clumsy young man knew how to cooperate and to respect his elders. The boy's instant obedience mollified von Karma enough to appraise him further. It appeared that, much like that foolish detective (who was at the moment getting a browbeating from his daughter across the cafeteria), this one made up in brawn what he lacked in brains. It was likely best not to needlessly antagonize him further... especially since he might well prove useful for a particular mission tonight, in Ms. Taura's absence. "Hmph. Try not to let it happen again."

Now, how to "break the ice" to make this young man amenable to helping him? As much as von Karma despised small talk, it was all too often a necessary evil for him. As he pondered on this, he noted that the boy was pathetically scooping up the spilled salad from his tray. Flagging down a nurse and snapping his fingers at her, the older man ordered, "Nurse! There has been a mishap here. This young man needs napkins and a replacement of his salad. You will bring those here for him. Now."

As usual, the nurse just smiled patronizingly, as though she rarely took such demands seriously. "Of course, sir. That is very thoughtful of you! I'll be right back."

After the nurse left to do his bidding, von Karma looked around to ensure that no one who might know him was within earshot, then back at the boy. "I suppose that, at this point, I should introduce myself. I am Manfred von Karma. Your name, please?"

[att_901]

"It's okay, you don't have to--" but the nurse was gone and Randal was left with the man who introduced himself as Manfred von Karma. Now Randal (who was not a very good judge of character) thought that Mister von Karma must be a very authoritative and powerful man. His experience under Section III taught him that powerful men were not always good men, but Randal believed in the best in everybody. Though he was admittedly afraid of Mister von Karma, he was very grateful for his kindness. Yes, kindness. Mister von Karma could have scolded him for his clumsiness, as any normal man would, but instead asked the nurse to get him a replacement for his salad and some napkins. That was kindness enough.

"Randal Oland, sir," he said, turning his attention away from the nurse back to Mister von Karma. "Corporal in the Imperial Army, Section III: Pumpkin Scissors." That was more than just his introduction to Mister von Karma, it was also his own affirmation of where he belonged. Not ATT-901, Section III. Now that glorious moment was over (for now). He was back to worrying about the problem at hand, his lack of salad and how he spilled it on the man in front of him. "Thank you, sir," he added with an embarrassed tone.

[perfectrecord]

"Hn. Don't mention it," the prosecutor responded in a dispassionate tone of voice, his arms folded as he gave this Mr. Randal Oland an exacting gaze for a moment. He then closed his eyes, pondering on what this young man said about his occupation.

Hmmm. A corporal in the "Imperial Army?" Despite there having been one such army in late nineteenth century Germany, there were none that von Karma knew of in the modern world. Furthermore... "Pumpkin Scissors?" A strange appellation for an army unit. A code name, or...? Was this "Corporal Oland" from one of these -- the prosecutor was still loath to even admit to such a ludicrous possibility -- alternate universes? Or was this whole military experience a mere delusion on the boy's part? At least one thing, von Karma was almost certain that Oland had never heard of him before, which was advantageous to him so long as he didn't allow his less-than-altruistic nature to manifest too readily.

"Corporal Oland," he finally said, opening his eyes again and nodding his head. "Though I have heard of a number of armies in the Western world, I have yet to hear of yours." He cocked his eyebrow skeptically. "Tell me more of this... 'Pumpkin Scissors' section. Where is it based, and what is its mission?"

[att_901]

"Sir?" And him forgetting the Section's oath. But then, nobody had the oath memorized save for the Lieutenant, who would try to punish them for this and fail. It would be three against one, and she was just one girl. He would have to get by without the oath for this one.

"The Pumpkin Scissors specializes in war relief, sir. The war between the Empire and the Frost Republic was declared to be over, but that doesn't mean that our job as soldiers is over." Now how would the Lieutenant say this? "We're a non-combat section, sir, just doing the best we can to help."

[perfectrecord]

Again, the prosecutor raised an eyebrow. The "Empire" and "Frost Republic?" Now von Karma was almost certain that this boy was indeed from another... universe; to his knowledge, there had never existed any "Frost Republic" in any period of time. It was still quite possible that Oland was lying or delusion-ridden, but von Karma received neither of these impressions from him so far. Furthermore, there had been that thread of discussion on the bulletin board yesterday morning regarding twentieth century Earth conflicts; perhaps this war unfamiliar to the prosecutor was related to the information that the note's author was seeking.

Still, the prosecutor was dubious. He had just met this young man, and while he seemed simple and trustworthy enough, von Karma preferred to first learn more about him and this "Pumpkin Scissors" unit before allowing him to assist him directly. After all, simpleness was all too often a facade for a deceptive mind; the several thousand innocent-pleading defendants in his career were testament to that.

"Indeed. The aftermath of a large conflict can be just as devastating -- and often more so -- as the war's active phase." He nodded knowingly before peering at Oland again, an exacting look in his eyes. "You said that your unit does not specialize in combat. But even war relief can prove dangerous, depending upon the circumstances of your deployment. Have you ever had occasion to use your basic combat training while on one of these war relief missions, Corporal Oland?"

[att_901]

[I'm sorry, I spaced out ;A;]

He was suddenly very conscious of the scars on his face. His basic combat skills were far from basic. To go against a moving tank was suicide. Odd as it was, he was forced to do this time and time again during their war-relief operations. War or no war, tanks were still powerful weapons.

"I have. Just a few minor scuffles. It's nothing compared to the war." And to say more, when they still don't know who was supplying the dissatisfied nobles with tanks and prototype weapons, might be a breach of military intelligence. He tried to laugh about it, making light of the situation, but couldn't. Not convincingly, at least. "I'm just doing the best I can, sir. I'm not that smart, but I can at least do something."