(no subject)
Day: 62.
Characters: Cross, Lockon, and aaanyone else.
Summary: Lockon doesn't know what the hell is going on. In other words, he mistakes Cross for his terrorist friend and there is much commotion.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: DAY: Dinner hour.
Status: OPEN, Incomplete.
Even if this small space of social time was less than impressive, Cross liked this setup a bit better than the original concept of feeding time, which was letting them sulk over their meals in the privacy of their own rooms like a bunch of social rejects. It was so very unlike him, and so very... mind-numbing.
But out here, there was light, open space, conversation. A nice almost-energizing little boost in his day, which was why he was on his best (more or less) behavior when it came time for all of the Level 1s to be herded in to the cafeteria. He scouted out a cozy little spot and staked his claim by flopping right on down on to the crickety bench, elbows resting on the surface of the table as he leaned forward against it while the rest of the patients shuffled in.
What creative platemess would they be serving today, he wondered.
Characters: Cross, Lockon, and aaanyone else.
Summary: Lockon doesn't know what the hell is going on. In other words, he mistakes Cross for his terrorist friend and there is much commotion.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: DAY: Dinner hour.
Status: OPEN, Incomplete.
Even if this small space of social time was less than impressive, Cross liked this setup a bit better than the original concept of feeding time, which was letting them sulk over their meals in the privacy of their own rooms like a bunch of social rejects. It was so very unlike him, and so very... mind-numbing.
But out here, there was light, open space, conversation. A nice almost-energizing little boost in his day, which was why he was on his best (more or less) behavior when it came time for all of the Level 1s to be herded in to the cafeteria. He scouted out a cozy little spot and staked his claim by flopping right on down on to the crickety bench, elbows resting on the surface of the table as he leaned forward against it while the rest of the patients shuffled in.
What creative platemess would they be serving today, he wondered.