Night 48: M61-M70 Hallway

[doneinthree]

Kirk looked up as he always did when the intercom came on during dinner, as if it would be that easy to catch a glimpse of the man who presided over their captivity, and did so with such glee. CM-US trials. Without meaning to, he glanced at Admiral ZEX at those words, and away again when "re-trials" were mentioned. What did that mean? It wasn't

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Re: M63

[notachick]

Ayumu refused the piece of chocolate and Okita rolled the foil-wrapped confection in his fingers a moment before reaching out and taking her hand, placing the chocolate in her palm. He'd be able to get more tomorrow since it was the Doyleton trip and even if he couldn't, Honey's club was always an option as even Ayumu was now suggesting. He smiled openly at her and pulled his hands back, hiding them behind him so she couldn't try to return his gift. "Joining his group might be a good idea. Honey-kun seems to be lacking participants sometimes and having more people around will certainly improve his spirits."

As for Doyleton, though? Okita still held a distinct feeling of disgust when he thought of that night. The dead were meant to remain dead forever. To see them walking about, half-rotted and decomposed had been enough to turn even his stomach. "Should such a thing happen, there are no plans as of yet - but I trust you will find me and we will do our utmost to survive as we did last time. If meeting proves impossible, protect those you are with and find higher ground."

Re: M63

[tostepforward]

If she really wanted to be difficult about it, Ayumu could simply have left the bit of candy behind when she left, but it was clear that he wanted her to have it and there wasn't any real reason to argue. She just laughed quietly and tucked it away in her pocket to look at later. "I'm sure it would. And that it would improve my spirits as well to be able to do a little cooking again."

The trip into town was something that the other side of herself would have to deal with, though; the sisterly cook could do little but be protected herself if danger should arise once more, and this time there would be no Robin to drive one of the metal vehicles around the town and get them to relative safety. "I'll keep it in mind, then. Perhaps we'll be lucky and have an uneventful trip this time." There was always that possibility, even if she didn't feel it terribly likely.

But time was passing as they spoke, and he had somewhere to be, even if he insisted Homura wouldn't mind. "I'll try to get in touch with you tomorrow, somehow. In the meantime, be careful tonight? And give my regards to our leader." And with a small smile and nod, she started toward the door again.

[to here]

Re: M63

[notachick]

Improve her spirits - that was definitely one thing Okita wished he had the power to do. The sight of her smile was something he'd come to miss so much in the last few weeks. Her voice floating from the kitchen, the laughter she'd brought to the compound, the sound of her moving almost soundlessly through the halls as she went to wake the men for breakfast. He'd come to miss that, like a phantom limb, when she'd been abruptly stolen from them. To see her here now, talking about getting to the kitchen made him smile, a genuine smile that he hoped didn't give too much away. "I'd certainly be happy to see you in there again. Maybe we'd get some decent food for once."

As for having an uneventful trip, Okita doubted that. Nearly every time he'd gone to Doyleton, something terrible had happened. Being trapped in a wheelchair, losing Hijikata, the undead coming back to life - for all the wonder the town held for him, he dreaded its coming with every week.

"Yes, do keep in touch. I'll see you tomorrow and," he paused, feeling a strange sense of something settle in his bones. It was like foreboding only not as strong or as tangible. "...be careful yourself. I'll wait to hear from you tomorrow."

Ayumu left and Okita waited a moment longer, trying to shake the feeling out of his bones, but he couldn't. It was like some sort of chill had just fallen down upon his shoulders, like dead fingers of the past were pressing into his skin, pushing him down, freezing him in place. The coughing returned for a moment and he was forced to lean against his desk until it passed. A careful glance at his palm revealed nothing out of the ordinary, however, and so he gathered his things and headed out into the night.

[Skipping a good deal to here in the interest of time.]