King Kong. Indy wasn't particularly interested in the film itself (he'd already seen it), but it'd been the only one on the list he'd recognized. After last night, he had the urge to feel closer to his own time again, even if only for an hour or two. Maybe more importantly, a movie might keep his mind off the upcoming visitor shift, over which he was still privately sweating bullets. There was still a chance that Dad could show up. Indy hadn't even begun to think about what the hell they'd say if he did. He could feel the two photos getting crumpled around the edges in his pocket
( ... )
A morning of retrospection, and Lunge was still wrapping his head around the previous night. The doors had been modified, they'd been left wandering from the Institute to Doyleton in a single step, all at the whim of the Head Doctor. He supposed he'd been tempting fate when he wondered just how far the man's power extended. But even with the randomisation of pathways, there was still the wildcard to consider- L's office building.
It had been convincing. Very, very convincing. He'd seen the way L's face changed when they'd entered; it took more than cut-rate illusion to trick a man into a prison cell and call it his home (which was food for thought in itself, even if it lended itself to one of his more outlandish ideas: how did he manage to construct such perfect replicas?) But even so, the illusion had been so short-lived that it might never have been at all- and worse still, it had allowed them an advantage. Judging by the posts on the bulletin board (carefully worded enough for the nurses, perhaps, but no amount of innuendo would
( ... )
The door was in the corner of Indy's vision, so he saw Lunge enter and make a beeline toward him well before he heard the greeting. Just the man he'd been looking for; convenient. He wondered if Dent had mentioned that he wanted to know more about what had happened during the memory experiment, or if Lunge, like Ryuuzaki, had his own reasons for striking up a conversation with him.
"Inspector Lunge," he greeted in kind. "No, go ahead. You're just in time for the afternoon's cinematic offering." He shifted toward one arm of the couch to give the other man some more room. They had more important things to discuss than the merits of a film about a giant ape and a screaming woman (Indy's autobiography, Marion would have said smartly), but luckily everyone else in the room was also more invested in talking than in paying attention as the screen flickered on. Same as in the chapel this morning, Indy thought. Did anyone ever pay attention to the structured "activities" here
( ... )
The corner of Lunge's mouth twitched and he glanced towards the projector screen as Jones mentioned the afternoon's film. There was some sort of irony in there, he was sure of it- but looking for significance in the film choices was perhaps reaching, even for him. Still, it was hard to miss that none of the choices had been from before the 1970s. Perhaps an attempt to induce a feeling of cultural as well as physical isolation, given that many of the patients here claimed to be from some sort of distant past or future
( ... )
Indy thought he'd caught a quick flash of--what?--in Lunge's expression before the deliberately neutral look reasserted itself, but it was possible he was just seeing things. Wishful thinking, maybe--not that he wanted Lunge to suffer, but it was always nice to know the people you were dealing with were human. It was obvious that the inspector didn't want didn't want to dwell on it, though, so Indy didn't push it.
"I'm sure you understand my interest in the subject, but I also understand if you're not interested in talking about it," he said simply, just to get it out there. Then he followed Lunge's lead and moved on. "And don't worry about the meeting." It hadn't been all that productive anyway, as far as he was concerned.
Then directly on to the meat of the discussion: "Was there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about? I spoke with Ryuuzaki this morning; he told me a little about your 'prize.' My night wasn't quite as lucky."
Too briskly, perhaps? It had been a trick to move the conversation onto less personal grounds, but- well. He certainly didn't want Jones to think that. Never mind that it ran counter to his aims, it also brought with it the slightest chance of pity, and while he'd hardly had Jones down as the comforting sort, the possibility of inspiring any sort of pity was unacceptable.
Still, his wording had been encouragingly stark on that front. Inspector Lunge arranged his features into a compliant smile. "It's alright. Learning as much as possible about the Institute's methods is vital. I don't mind answering any questions you might have." Provided the Institute is all you want to ask after.
Which, fortunately, was how it seemed to be- Jones moved onto other matters swiftly enough, never mind whether or not he'd picked up on any discomfort on Lunge's behalf. It sounded as though L (Ryuuzaki again- he's still using the alias) had already at least started to cover some ground with the man, so he simply nodded. "From the Sphinx, yes. I take it
( ... )
Indy had plenty of questions, and he let his eyes flicker to the movie screen for a few seconds while he decided whether now was the time to ask them. No time like the present, while the memory of what had happened was still fresh on Lunge's mind (which, if Dent's report of the memory experiment had been accurate, wouldn't be the case later on). And with no way to be sure whether they'd still be around tomorrow, information needed to be transmitted quickly. Since tact was such a luxury, and since Lunge seemed willing enough to talk, Indy gave a nod of thanks and went ahead and asked.
"Harvey Dent gave me a rundown of what happened." He contemplated adding I'm sorry, but decided sticking with professionalism was the best course of action here. "Did you learn anything that might be helpful? See any faces, remember anything about where they took you?" It was probably a long shot--if there was much knowledge to be gained from the brainwashings, he'd expect it to be in wider circulation already--but he had to ask
( ... )
Dent again. Hmm. Lunge's expression flickered again briefly, a candle-flame of expression, before he shrugged it off. Or he forced himself to shrug it off. The end result was the same. Jones was their- how had the man put it? "Mutual acquaintance"? It stood to reason they'd discuss the matter, particularly when one man was his roommate and the other a work colleague of sorts. Besides, he hadn't forbidden Dent from sharing the matter with anyone else- even if, he couldn't help but think with a touch of resentment, he disliked the idea of the two of them discussing his injuries. It echoed uncomfortably of muttered exchanges in various headquarters across Germany, lips that parted only when his back was turned and eyes that seemed to slide past his face and over his shoulder in guilty deference- or was it something else
( ... )
If what Dent had said was true, they'd be hoping Lunge couldn't memorize whatever they told him. But Indy didn't think they'd bank on that. "Any idea if it was one of the regular daytime doctors?" he asked, though he wasn't expecting an affirmative. Indy himself had never had one of the rumored "therapy sessions," but the doctors were conspicuous enough when they passed through the halls; he thought he might recognize one of them
( ... )
fsasfdsah I am so sorry for taking so long with this ;_;herr_inspektorJuly 15 2010, 16:15:40 UTC
This time, the question gave Lunge pause. Then, after what had felt to the inspector like an eternity when it had only in truth been a moment, he sighed. "I don't know." Three little words he was loathe to say aloud- it was as good as admitting defeat. "I'd only know from the voice, and I haven't yet had one of the sessions here." Even if he did see them, he doubted they'd do anything so obvious as to place him with the same doctor; they'd set the man up as a far more unearthly creature, able to slip into the night without a second's notice. And they wouldn't want to shatter their daytime ruse, would they
( ... )
Lunge's answer to that question was the anticipated one, of course. Indy didn't have any other immediate queries--he wanted to know about the specifics of the experiment but figured he'd be better off getting information in that vein indirectly from Javert--so he nodded and let the subject drop for now. Even if that hadn't been his intention, Lunge's next statement might well have sidetracked him anyway
( ... )
Lunge hadn't expected to feel quite so relieved when Jones decided to leave the matter of his session for now- he also hadn't realised that the man's questions had made him as tense as they had. Uncomfortable, yes. That was only natural. But it was only afterwards that he noticed the tightness in the pit of his stomach discussing the matter had brought about, and it was... worrying. No, disappointing. He'd have to work on that
( ... )
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It had been convincing. Very, very convincing. He'd seen the way L's face changed when they'd entered; it took more than cut-rate illusion to trick a man into a prison cell and call it his home (which was food for thought in itself, even if it lended itself to one of his more outlandish ideas: how did he manage to construct such perfect replicas?) But even so, the illusion had been so short-lived that it might never have been at all- and worse still, it had allowed them an advantage. Judging by the posts on the bulletin board (carefully worded enough for the nurses, perhaps, but no amount of innuendo would ( ... )
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"Inspector Lunge," he greeted in kind. "No, go ahead. You're just in time for the afternoon's cinematic offering." He shifted toward one arm of the couch to give the other man some more room. They had more important things to discuss than the merits of a film about a giant ape and a screaming woman (Indy's autobiography, Marion would have said smartly), but luckily everyone else in the room was also more invested in talking than in paying attention as the screen flickered on. Same as in the chapel this morning, Indy thought. Did anyone ever pay attention to the structured "activities" here ( ... )
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"I'm sure you understand my interest in the subject, but I also understand if you're not interested in talking about it," he said simply, just to get it out there. Then he followed Lunge's lead and moved on. "And don't worry about the meeting." It hadn't been all that productive anyway, as far as he was concerned.
Then directly on to the meat of the discussion: "Was there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about? I spoke with Ryuuzaki this morning; he told me a little about your 'prize.' My night wasn't quite as lucky."
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Still, his wording had been encouragingly stark on that front. Inspector Lunge arranged his features into a compliant smile. "It's alright. Learning as much as possible about the Institute's methods is vital. I don't mind answering any questions you might have." Provided the Institute is all you want to ask after.
Which, fortunately, was how it seemed to be- Jones moved onto other matters swiftly enough, never mind whether or not he'd picked up on any discomfort on Lunge's behalf. It sounded as though L (Ryuuzaki again- he's still using the alias) had already at least started to cover some ground with the man, so he simply nodded. "From the Sphinx, yes. I take it ( ... )
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"Harvey Dent gave me a rundown of what happened." He contemplated adding I'm sorry, but decided sticking with professionalism was the best course of action here. "Did you learn anything that might be helpful? See any faces, remember anything about where they took you?" It was probably a long shot--if there was much knowledge to be gained from the brainwashings, he'd expect it to be in wider circulation already--but he had to ask ( ... )
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