Ichigo was only too eager to leave the cafeteria and its fresh memories behind when the softened chime of the intercome rang clear. What had begun as another ordinary meal, a rather agreeable one despite the lack of the proper utensils, quickly became somewhat unnerving. His conversation with...what was his name again?...took so many sharp turns,
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As expected, it was quiet in the sunroom; it was also void of anything that a person could use to entertain themselves with, which honestly was about perfect. After seeing what the staff provided the patients with, Hojo concluded that it was far more satisfying to be left to one's own devices.
"I don't think the staff realizes how negatively stagnation can affect a person," he said after approaching an athletic-looking redhead who appeared to be doing stretching exercizes off to one side. "Unless you're getting ready for nightshift."
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He didn't know those people, or their problems, though. So he decided to go for neutrality until he got his own impression of the guy.
He paused again, holding a stretch for a moment, and tried to get a feel for things. Nothing clear, of course, but he felt vaguely creeped out. Which, to be fair, could just be the atmosphere of an insane asylum getting to him.
"We all pass the time in our own little way," he said. "What do you want?" While the question was blunt, his tone wasn't overtly unfriendly; he just decided to be to the point, which was really his normal way to deal with people.
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However, this shift would probably prove as boring and uneventful as the rest of the day had been. Flopping down on the couch with a sigh, he stared at the ceiling, not paying attention to the other occupants in the room.
If something interesting didn't happen soon, he was going to bore himself to death.
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None of his crew was present yet, so the only other patient he vaguely knew was the dark-haired one from the night before. He looked bored, anyway. Maybe he'd enjoy having someone to talk to.
Besides, it was irritating not knowing his name.
He didn't sit on the couch just yet, instead standing before the other man with his arms crossed. "They bandage you up okay?"
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This was why, despite having chosen not to go to the Music Room, River almost danced over to where the Captain stood, talking to a strange man who recline alone on a couch. Without asking, she jumped up on the arm of the couch, balancing perfectly with barely any need for weight adjustment; she'd calculated properly enough, and she squatted down to sit on her heels as she smiled up at Mal.
"Starts with an A. Almost like the prominent, biblical figure." River answered his silent query with something of a riddle, though she made a face at the mention of the Shepherd's symbol. It had never made any sense to her. "Too many metaphoric parallels."
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"I'm fine." the warrior replied. He then paused, as if he hestitated.
"...why did you save me?" Albel asked. "You could've just left." Who knew what would happen if the night hadn't ended? And the fact that someone else had saved him...he didn't deserve that. He especially didn't deserve to be saved by strangersThings were so much easier when people just flat out hated you. And while that went with most of the worms he met, there were persistent exceptions as well. Fayt was one of them ( ... )
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He wasn't a noise person anymore, really.
His throat hurt from talking so much and he was still more than agitated, so it was with great, great relief that Vincent Valentine all but collapsed on one of the couches, eyes closed and arms crossed.
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A few choice and VERY LOUD people had suddenly scattered in the otherwise actually sort of pleasant room, completely disturbing the whole purpose of the place, and it was beginning to piss Vincent off. The be denied the only relative peace he could possibly find after the last upset at lunch was more than he could handle.
"This is supposed to be quiet time," Vincent muttered to himself. "Shut up."
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Ichigo himself could feel his temper beginning to bubble and boil over. Angrily, he balled his fists up and wedged them against his ears, trying to block out all the sound while his lips and features twisted and tightened.
"This is even worse than home...I can't even afford a nap here..."
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Havoc plopped himself down in the first available chair he came to, stretched out his long legs and tilted his head back. He didn't close his eyes just yet though, instead he stared up at the ceiling. Hell, he was too bored to sleep.
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She didn't want to go to the music room. She didn't care about music. But the sun room was open and she didn't feel quite so trapped there. Ignoring her blank-minded nurse, as usual, she took a seat next to some blond guy who looked bored out of his skull.
She didn't blame him.
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"Excitement. Right." Oddly enough, there wasn't the usual mental miasma of emotion coming off of this guy. Everyone else was either wound up tight or angry or terrified. It gave her a headache, all that strong emotion everywhere, seeping in no matter what. At least no one had tried to touch her/
She just shook her head with an almost-smile. Why did she end up with the guys who tried to make jokes about everything? And she wasn't talking about just here at the institute.
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Sun Room it was, then. Besides that, he didn’t feel like hanging out in a place where people were pounding on instruments left and right.
It seemed Rufus had either not arrived yet-or Reno was wrong about the President, after all-but with luck, the man would show up. For now, he could use the time to meet someone new, and maybe even somehow learn a little more about the guy Elena had pointed out earlier. Mustang. The one who could apparently make swords.
He gave the room another quick once-over before heading for one of the available windows. He was used to spending most of his time walking the streets outside, or moving from one bar to the next, and being cooped up in this freaking institution was starting to get to him. It was like being locked inside the Shin-Ra office for the same ( ... )
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Nevertheless, a smile (#13, greeting a stranger of uncertain intentions) was firmly in place by the time he turned. There were some definite advantages to subconscious masks. Not that he actually spent enough time thinking about them to term them as such, which would defeat the purpose of subconscious masks. Hakkai was far too busy for that. Busy doing things like figuring out ways to kill whoever had placed him here.
"Would it matter if I said yes?" He was teasing. Mostly. It was something to say that gave him a moment to size up the person next to him. It was habit these days, assessing everyone as a potential threat while greeting them as a potential friend. This one didn't seem to be a threat, but one could never be too sure.
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Reno pulled one leg up onto the chair, letting the other stretch out as he sat leaning at a slight angle.
He glanced at the stranger, offering a half-smile in return. The pen cap he'd been chewing on since lunch was still between his lips, and he removed the deformed piece of plastic before speaking again.
"To me? Nope. Might make you look more sociable, though." He extended his left hand. "Reno."
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