Pardon me, but -

[Those words would be eminently polite, if only they weren't being spoken right in front of the intercom, making them loud and crackling the line with air.]The other man who was in my cell - what's happened to him? He hasn't been in since I woke up this morning. Not for meals or to shower, either...that's not allowed on our level ( Read more... )

[The relative calm of the intercom could only last for so long, really. As things go, it's probably to the good that, when it shatters today, it's only for a voice - pretty but untrained - singing in careful Latin:]

Vere passum immolatum
In cruce pro homine
Cuius latus perforatum -

[The song, of course, is a hymn, started up somewhere suddenly ( Read more... )

[In the billiards' room, Gilbert is...amusing himself?...this evening ( Read more... )

[It's been a quiet night, hasn't it?

There's only a small break in that silence hanging over the asylum, now -- the soft, metal creak and scratch of a door being opened. Slowly. No footsteps come with it. Finally, though, there's a boyish voice, talking aloud but mostly to itself:]They don't lock the doors at night ( Read more... )

[I bet you were expecting English.

Well, that's too bad. Because you're getting French instead. Haughty, high-pitched, practically shrieking French:]

I'm not listening to any more of this!

Someone come and open this door, right now! I won't sit and be mocked, while you cram me in here. Unlock this and let me out!

[The bang that sounds there ( Read more... )

[Gilbert's voice is dreamy, today -- which is to say, not only soft and airy but also tired, so much so that it's wavering around its usual precision.]

They've let my cellmate wander off somewhere.

I haven't seen him since...ah, I can't remember. And there were never any doctors or guards drifting around before, so that must mean he's escaped, ( Read more... )

Really, they even make this routine with the laundry dull, here.

[Everyone's clothes are gone, and Gilbert is being snide. Nothing has changed anywhere, except that he might sound a trace terser, a trace more theatrical, today:]

Maybe it's therapy. They'll do it often enough, and we'll all have no problem sitting naked in the cold. And then we'll ( Read more... )

[Here is a yawn, soft but long, panning out into the start of a familiar, French-tinted tone:]

What day is it?

[a short, sleepy beat]

...They don't even have a chapel here, do they? They don't bother to change the preaching around on Sundays --

[There's a little snicker there, but the sarcasm in his tone wavers on what comes next:]-- Though ( Read more... )

So.

[Someone is trying to sound...less petulant than usual about what he has to say, today, though the words aren't following the tone that far:]

What does it take for the doctors to decide someone's safe enough to go stay in the nicer rooms, here? I've been here for weeks, and I haven't hurt anyone or even made a mess. I've even tried to make ( Read more... )

It doesn't feel like anyone will freeze, this time.

[Someone sounds surprisingly glum about that, his words tense and hesitant, stopping at each pause in an uncertain way.]

At least, it feels like it's warmed up some, since they took our clothes last. But - if anyone felt less shy about my offer from last week, I could still -

[Here's a deep ( Read more... )