There was a moment of acute awareness just before Edgar awoke, his mind stirring from a gentle caress at his temple. What had he been doing? Yes, talking with Gren, just before the soldiers arrived. Before either of them could do anything, they were pulling him from the room. This was the night for the sleep studies- was that where they were taking him? Edgar opened his eyes, the rest of the image coming together: the guards had taken them both
( ... )
Good, good. Her patient was waking. More importantly, he was already aware of his situation, cutting chit-chat down to the bare minimum. The man was also as charming as indicated in his file. If only all royalty followed his example, existence would be a much better place, no? She laughed lightly and pulled away, circling around to meet the man face-to-face.
"Flattery, Your Highness," the doctor began, "will not get you out of those restraints." There was a brief pause as she assessed her approach. "But I suppose it will place me in a good mood. That, perhaps, might make all the difference."
Her eyes seemed to shine in the light overhead. "Why do you think you are here, Mr. Figaro?"
As anticipated, his charms wouldn't get him out of this situation; however, what Edgar hadn't foreseen was how the doctor addressed him: by his real name, not the one assigned to him by the institute.
His expression darkened- so there were some individuals behind the scenes who were aware of Landel's intentions, more than just the Head Doctor, the General, and the potential allies on the other side of the radio. An elite group, perhaps? She wasn't one of the regular staff, not one of the cheery nurses who either chose to ignore all that was wrong with the institute or was genuinely naive to what was at the heart of the beast. With one question, her presence suddenly bore more weight.
There was no point in playing games. "I expect either torture or experimentation," he answered flatly. "Or a bit of both. Regardless, even with you around, I suspect this isn't going to be something I'll enjoy in the slightest."
It was good to see a man who acclimated quickly--in expression, words, or otherwise. She idly slid a hand across her lips, a gesture that spoke of contemplation. Anyone could tell the doctor was quite enjoying herself, though the reasons seemed as ambiguous as any. The woman could have gone on with the procedure without conversation--it was what she wanted, after all--but here she was. Talking.
It likely did not bode well, either way.
"You are quite correct in your expectations!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "Ah, but that is a harsh suspicion, don't you think? There exists the possibility that you may learn to love what I will do to you tonight." The doctor trailed off, presumably for dramatics. "Here, let me give you a hint: the names Chere and Palazzo should ring a bell for you. What commonality can you find between them?"
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"Flattery, Your Highness," the doctor began, "will not get you out of those restraints." There was a brief pause as she assessed her approach. "But I suppose it will place me in a good mood. That, perhaps, might make all the difference."
Her eyes seemed to shine in the light overhead. "Why do you think you are here, Mr. Figaro?"
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His expression darkened- so there were some individuals behind the scenes who were aware of Landel's intentions, more than just the Head Doctor, the General, and the potential allies on the other side of the radio. An elite group, perhaps? She wasn't one of the regular staff, not one of the cheery nurses who either chose to ignore all that was wrong with the institute or was genuinely naive to what was at the heart of the beast. With one question, her presence suddenly bore more weight.
There was no point in playing games. "I expect either torture or experimentation," he answered flatly. "Or a bit of both. Regardless, even with you around, I suspect this isn't going to be something I'll enjoy in the slightest."
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It likely did not bode well, either way.
"You are quite correct in your expectations!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "Ah, but that is a harsh suspicion, don't you think? There exists the possibility that you may learn to love what I will do to you tonight." The doctor trailed off, presumably for dramatics. "Here, let me give you a hint: the names Chere and Palazzo should ring a bell for you. What commonality can you find between them?"
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