Night 49: Doctor's Office 9 [Dr. Weaver]

[for_a_song]

[From here]

"It wouldn't be much of a music room if they didn't," he agreed. Interesting to know that Edgar at least had those where he came from. A part of him was sure it would be interesting to sit down and compare what was similar and what was different between all the different places the people he'd talked to so far claimed to come from.

Comments

[full_score]

((From here.))

Upon stepping into the next room, he listened closely, hoping to catch some sort of sign of other patients nearby. Unfortunately, he didn't hear much of anything, except for maybe faint sounds of the storm raging outside. Because of his poor vision, he didn't immediately realize that he'd been in here just a few moments ago. The texture of the floor might have felt the same, but that didn't necessarily mean anything in as large of a building as Landel's.

It wasn't until he bumped into the desk with the same bruised hip as before that he got a strong sense of déjà vu.

Claude paused, his uninjured hand gripping onto the desk's top to keep him steady. So not only had he wasted a bunch of energy getting somewhere that was useless, but he was basically going in circles now. Great. It was hard not to get discouraged, though at this point he was too exhausted to harbor the same kind of simmering frustration as before. Instead, his body just sagged with weariness.

Something stung at the back of his eyes, and Claude hastily rubbed at them, not giving the discomfort any thought. Instead, he painfully turned around and trudged back over to the exit. His knees felt like they were on the verge of collapsing, which was all the more reason he had to keep going. If he stopped, it was hard to say when he'd be able to scrape himself back together enough to move again.

He turned the door handle, fighting back a wave of nausea as he did so.

((To here.))