Night 47: Main Hallway, 1-Center

[tyki_pon]

[From here]Tyki moved further down the hallway at an easy pace, noticing the lack of other patients around here but he didn't really care much about it. Perhaps it meant no one would snag any smokes away from under his nose this time, but then again, that may have been too optimistic. Eh, but that hardly meant that another person would get away

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[number1smiley]

[from here]

Perhaps Teresa will inquire with Homura what the man knew about the ruins.

"Hime and her band of merry minions are heading into the bowels of the building this night," she informed Morgan. It wasn't as if Hime had asked her to keep the information confidential, nor did she own the Royal any obligation to do so even if she had.

[swornandbroken]

"I was hoping to get a look at the ruins myself tonight, if there's time." This was the main reason he'd bothered putting on the coat and boots. "The person who told me about it mentioned there was something that looked like it had been a doctor's office.

"And what's down there?" If Mello had learned anything about this place in the last twenty-four hours, it was that he shouldn't have been so quick to assume that there was nothing more to the hospital and its surroundings than met the eye. A room with useful shit, hidden behind a closet; mysterious ruins... he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that escape wouldn't be straightforward, and that he shouldn't discount information that seemed meaningless on the surface, or write people off who seemed as if they wouldn't know anything useful. He made a mental note to investigate this Hime person, on the strength of her having so-called minions.

[number1smiley]

"Trials of some sort - quite dangerous, I've been told," Teresa replied. "Other than that, I know nothing. Those that have been down there seem very tight-lipped about it. Or perhaps they simply lack the ability to describe it properly."

[swornandbroken]

"Trials?" All right, now he was really fucking curious, and eager to find out what the story was, and to pit himself against whatever was down there. "What's the reward?" There had to be one, right?

[number1smiley]

Didn't Teresa just say that people were reluctant to speak about the basement? That would include any reward. She didn't even know the nature of the trials themselves.

"None that I am aware of," she replied, blandly. "That does not mean there isn't one. Again, no one seems to want to talk about it."

[swornandbroken]

Mello's mouth tightened in annoyance. He was reminded of Near getting cranky at having to repeat the slightest little thing. "Hey, I'm not a fucking mind-reader, and you haven't exactly been chatty about information you have." He wondered if the reluctance of people to talk about the basement had to do with trauma, or if it were induced somehow, like the amnesia Edgeworth had mentioned in connection with the medical wing; but he wasn't going to ask and invite another snippy response.

He glanced to the right. Through there must be the room L had mentioned, with the files on the prisoners' fake histories. Mello was itching to get his hands on them, but they'd have to wait.

[number1smiley]

Unphased by Morgan's snappy response, Teresa turned her silver eyes on him. "I find little reason to offer information that I have not confirmed, nor believe," she stated. "And I have no desire to compromise certain companionships that I have developed since my arrival."

The faintest of smiles touched her lips. "You expect me to be completely forthcoming. It not in my nature to do so, just as it is not in yours, Morgan. I simply find little reason to lie." She gave a low chuckle. "But that might just be the youma in me."

[swornandbroken]

Mello was accustomed to treating his hunches as proven facts. They were correct often enough that with a little selective memory, combined with generally coming out of even mistaken assumptions with results that pleased him, he felt justified in counting himself as always right. Even when he was wrong, he was more right than the vast majority of people, he figured. By the same logic, he was of the opinion that he could lie his head off and still claim lying was beneath him. "I expect there to be reasons for secrecy other than secrecy for its own sake. I'll assume there are, if you assume I can be trusted with what you do tell me." This seemed more than fair to him.

"Youma?" He looked over at her, distracted from his fading irritation. Ghost?

[number1smiley]

Believing hunches were proven facts would one day get Morgan killed. It would probably serve him right, too. Teresa did not appreciate the way he worded his supposed compromise to their momentary clash of wills. It was a pointless statement to make. The information that she held in secret was not information she trusted Morgan with. This was why it was secret and not divulged to him. Anything she did tell him, she assumed he could be trusted with.

"I do not know if there is a reward granted by the basement trials, but I would assume there was or someone would have informed the populace otherwise if they were capable of doing so," she stated. "No one has said anything of the like where I have seen or heard it, but the fact that people continually try to reach the basement even after hearing about these trials indicate there is at least something of value down there." Of course, 'something of value' was quite subjective.

And here was another instance of youma not being recognized. "Youma are demons," she clarified.

[swornandbroken]

"Or there's some mechanism in place to make sure people aren't capable of spreading the word, and anyone who goes down there has assumed it's worth it." He didn't want to believe the fuckers who ran this place could do that, but the evidence that they could tamper with people's memories was overwhelming: the number of people he'd never met who nevertheless recognized him, the missing time he'd experienced for himself. And L. Their fucking with L's head was at the top of that list, and highly ranked on the overall Grievances Against the Institute score sheet.

'Demon' fell approximately between 'ninja' and 'assassin droid' on the scale of plausibility, nudged closer to 'ninja' by virtue of Teresa being clearly mentally capable, unfamiliar with some modern terms, and not someone Mello could imagine making a joke of this kind, or indeed any kind. "Where the hell is it you come from?" He didn't really expect her to tell him, but had to take a stab at asking anyway.

[number1smiley]

The man really didn't like to listen when Teresa talked. A potential ability of Landel to keep anyone from speaking truthfully about the basement was exactly what she had meant when she said 'if they were capable of doing so'. Was she going to have to spell everything out in plain, simple concepts that any child of the age eight could understand? She barely repressed a sigh and decided not to even comment on Morgan's theory.

"I've been told by a child from a place called Brittania, that I am from a place called Australia, but that's just ridiculous. I have been here long enough and talked to enough people to know that no one knows of the land I am from and I know nothing of theirs." Teresa came to a stop and fully turned toward him, meeting his eyes as she angled the light up enough for the silver of her eyes to clearly stand out.

"Tell me, Morgan, have you ever encountered a human with silver eyes before?"

[swornandbroken]

"No, but I've met a death god who looked like an egg wrapped in bandages." Mello had been considerably less than impressed. Shinigami, he'd concluded, were just as easy to intimidate as humans.

He noted the mention of 'Britannia,' but he didn't need further evidence that people could come from anywhere or any time period, nor did he require further confirmation that, fucked-up as it seemed, people could come from places totally unlike his own home.

Just as it had begun to the night before, Teresa's attitude was getting on his nerves now. She might be part demon and she might not, but she was stuck here just like everyone else, and had no business putting on airs as if weird-ass eyes meant something. "Where's this office? I'm in a hurry."

[number1smiley]

Silver eyes were marks of a hybrid. They were the visual evidence of what Teresa was - certainly they meant something. perhaps Morgan would care more should she ever decide to make them glow gold and look far more serpentine than any human's eye should be. Sadly that meant she would be in the process of killing him, but tempting as that was, she decided it wasn't worth the effort.

"Gods care nothing for those they supposedly watch over," she commented, a light chuckle following Morgan's impatience. He was the one that had asked questions. "It is this way."

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