Yet another intercom jingle sounded, and the nurses, anticipating the Head Doctor's orders, already began grouping around the patients as he began to speak
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It looked like he'd arrived before the commander for once. Their meals were already lying out on the desks, steam still rising off the noodles and the scent of that sauce heavy in the air. McCoy felt his stomach give a rumble. He couldn't pretend otherwise: it certainly smelled appealing. The other meals hadn't tasted half-bad either. Their (possibly alien) captors knew how to cook better than the replicators on the ship and better than most humans. It was almost worrying
( ... )
Hayes was a little numb when he was escorted away from the Admiral. So Captain Zelnick had been here? And now he... wasn't. It was hard to process.
It wasn't that he'd been certain the Captain would never, ever die. You couldn't afford to ignore possibilities like that, in a war. But he'd never thought of it like this, trapped and hunted. That simply wasn't the way it was supposed to go.
Hayes reclined on his bed, eyes half-shut, trying to school his thoughts; he could have talked to his cellmate, but no words came to mind. He could have done something with his own notebook, but he was sure the same problem would be even worse for that. He could have had some dinner, but for the first time in years, Hayes found he had no appetite.
Hayes seemed content to let the silence in the air, and McCoy was equally content not to press his luck just yet. He didn't know the man well enough to know his moods. Especially after he had a hand in turning it south in the first place
( ... )
Even if he did get back to his Starbase, what would he find? They'd been turning out a lot of ships and certainly had the ability to collect resources now, they wouldn't need to worry about not being able to run the synthesizers... but how much good would that really do them, when the Ur-Quan eventually dealt with whatever had them so distracted? Pretending they'd been keeping the Oath of Fealty all this time would be out of the question even if he thought for a moment it would be believed. No one-
"Huh?" Hayes, of course, had completely forgotten about anything McCoy might have said earlier. In fact, for a moment he'd almost forgotten the other man existed, hence his surprise at being addressed, but he rallied quickly. "Oh. Yes. I've just had some... unpleasant news about someone from my universe."
The day itself sure had been interesting enough, what with meeting with old friends that he didn't remember and actually getting Asch to go along with him that night. But in the last shift, Luke decided he'd rather get some extra sleep, and he asked a nurse to guide him back to his room. It wasn't the easiest arrangement and he knew he should probably be asking about on the bulletin, but that evening would be difficult, too. The last thing he needed was Asch telling him that he was defective because he wasn't on his top game-especially since he was the one with the better weapon
( ... )
Meeting with Zack had been... unreal. But he'd done it. He walked up to his old friend and let him know he was alive, that they were here together. That was the important thing. The announcements barely registered at first, but then he forced himself to pay attention as he was led back into his room. Nothing much important was revealed aside from the contents of their dinner, however, which he decided sounded pretty good.
Luke was already there, and he waved briefly. "I don't know how appealing sauce that's 'homemade' here at Landel's sounds." He started off lightly. Today hadn't been bad, and there was no reason to keep being anxious about future meetings with the formerly deceased. Dumping his issues onto his roommate shouldn't become the norm anyway - at least not unless they were both complaining together.
It looked like the red-head might be a bit tired or possibly saddened by something, but he didn't want to assume too much. In this place he didn't think it really helped the mood to start off a conversation with So,
( ... )
If asked, Luke would feel a little sheepish that he looked so upset over disliking most of the food on his plate. After all, that was such a selfish thing to be worried over, and that was something he was trying to stop. That didn't change how he felt about his food, because he couldn't make himself like all the stupid foods he disliked, but it didn't change his attitude about it. Realizing it didn't change his tastes in the end
( ... )
"During the day, maybe." Then again, there was nothing saying they had to go out at night. They might be perfectly safe just sleeping in their rooms like normal patients. But what would be the point in that? They had to escape somehow, not give in to the asylum's routine.
He still couldn't help but have fleeting thoughts about Landel chopping people up and serving them in the marinara sauce. It almost put him off eating dinner altogether, except he was pretty sure he was just being paranoid. Skipping dinner wouldn't help him keep his strength up for whatever they planned to do that night. (Though it looked like self-defense classes? He was too antsy for that.)
"So. I just ended up with more questions today. How about you?"
Meeting up with new people was a little frustrating. It wasn't like he held the social graces to manage these situations, and he felt frustrated at the thought that he would have to keep doing this. Riku just hoped that things would change once he settled in. It seemed unlikely that Sora wouldn't have a group of people to talk to, and he liked the idea that he might be able to find things out that way (the club being the first sign of this). His method of handling things involved being discrete. Being discrete in a place full of people trying to get out, though? Yeah, he figured that one would be impossible
( ... )
Riku's fingers pressed idly against a wall, before he slapped a palm against it. Truthfully, he would have preferred punching it, but that would hurt him in the wake of the evening. No healing spells to patch him up right now, anyway. He heaved a frustrated sigh, turning away from the wall toward his food again. Knowing who gave it to him, he didn't feel hungry, but it beat staring at the ceiling until the lights dimmed. He picked up the tray with one hand and moved to his bed, where the flashlight had been left in the center for him to reach
( ... )
.... What a long day. As if waking up here wasn't bad enough, there were too many questions, too little answers, and not even just about this place. Battler couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling he'd gotten since he'd first talked to Rika that morning. ... There were other games out there besides the one he'd gotten trapped in. At least she'd said she was able to end everything, but now she was here? That was just.... As if the cruelty of losing people wasn't enough, the final result, too, was lost. At least he'd been able to ask to see her again. ... He wanted to know. That last answer, how she got there. It probably wouldn't help him at all, but it was human nature to be drawn to the familiar. Even if they couldn't help each other, they could still understand each other. That was the feeling he got
( ... )
Though it hadn't been the best method, Riku decided to abandon the spaghetti immediately in favor of the ice cream. There were no parents-or Kings or men named Ansem-there to scold him for it. For some people his age, that would be a small victory, but it annoyed him. He could imagine his mom's voice as he dug into the ice cream right before him instead of the noodles, and some part of him wanted to defy the voice. Missing his parents, his home ... It was something he tried not to do when he was out helping the sleeping Sora, or even the awake Sora, but things were different now. He had gone home. That single day with its taste of the water had been enough to make him want it
( ... )
The nurse had fussed over how dirty he'd managed to get in the greenhouse -- to hear her talk, he'd practically buried himself in one of the flowerbeds and tracked in a mountain of dirt. Even so she'd also been clearly pleased that he had showed some enthusiasm for the project, and complimented him on his efforts to recover as she had him stop to wash up at the bathroom on the way. Not that Hanatarou really cared that anyone thought it was a sign of his "recovery," really. He had no intention of recovering, if recovering meant he suddenly thought he was a human named John Smith and not a healer at all.
It was just that being in the greenhouse eased some of the homesickness that had dragged at him for the last several days: it wasn't quite the same, but it was close enough to feel sort of like home. The shihakushou helped a little, as did the fake Hisagomaru he carried at night, but...it still wasn't the same as actually doing something so familiar. In this place he couldn't heal well, and he certainly wasn't good at anything, but he
( ... )
Sora wasn't exactly sure how he felt about his meeting with Roxas. It could have gone better, but it also could have gone much, much worse. While it was odd that his Other remembered so little, that was the institute's fault. Maybe, with enough time, Sora would be able to explain all of it to him a little better. He was going to try his best to do so, at least
( ... )
Why had Sora given him that look? Was there something wrong? Did he still have a smudge of dirt on his face? Hanatarou had spotted the one on his forehead when he went to clean up after the greenhouse, but what if he missed another? He smiled at Sora and then quickly turned back to his tray, trying to be subtle about it as he wiped a hand across his cheeks.
"Oh...good," he replied, absently nibbling at his piece of bread. No dirt that he could find. Maybe he just had had a funny look on his face when Sora walked in. "I think I, um, have a plan that might work at night. At least, er, Sakura-san didn't think it was stupid. A-and I liked the greenhouse." Which was evidenced by the fact that he still hadn't changed his clothing afterwards, despite his nurse's suggestion that he do so. He was going to change into his real clothing after dinner anyway, so he didn't really see the point.
Hanatarou hadn't given a very coherent answer, with Sora having to separate out the two points before he realized what his roommate meant. Still, he'd gotten pretty used to conversing with his slightly unsteady roommate over the past days, so that made it a lot easier
( ... )
Thanks to a afternoon well spent, Yuffie was quickly forced into a detour to the women's bathrooms before being let back to her room. She skipped down one hallway to irritate her nurse, which didn't work, and skipped backwards down the next, which did.
"Hanna," Plucky admonished, "you have got to stop trying your luck!"
"I'm not trying it," replied Yuffie, blasé as ever, as she righted herself with a light-footed twirl. "Y'know, you really should be celebrating. Throwing a party! Possibly be giving me some kind of treat, like, say, I dunno, something cool and just for me." At her nurse's askance look of what, Yuffie sighed dramatically. It was no use; Plucky just didn't get it. Probably on purpose, which meant that, if nothing else, one thing hadn't changed; the woman had absolutely no sense of adventure. What kind of person didn't want to bend the rules at any and every opportunity? And, for that matter, what kind of person refused to reward somebody as singularly amazing as the Great Ninja Yuffie
( ... )
The conversation with Haseo had done little to clear up the mystery of the individual she'd encountered the night before, and Ayumu was left feeling somewhat dissatisfied about her situation now. That particular avenue of investigation didn't seem to be a profitable one, even though she'd had some fleeting hope that a cooperative guardian would be willing to give a hint or two about the Institute. Another dead end, and she'd been taken off her previous assignment: what now did she have to do?
Although -- if she no longer had to avoid raising suspicion where Lelouch was concerned, and Okita had even suggested she might find something in common with her roommate, would it be better to try to reconcile with Yuffie? She was still Himura's friend, and that grudge hadn't died: if anything, their conversation at lunch had fanned it to new life. But if their dinner hour was somewhat less uncomfortable and awkward it'd likely be for the best, for both of them
( ... )
Oh, there we go. Yuffie's head cocked slightly, but her mouth was full of spaghetti and garlic bread, so she couldn't immediately come out with some golden, scathing remark. Not that she had a ton to work with, she had to admit. Sen wasn't simpering and blathering intolerably just yet, wasn't saturating the room with her usual woe is me, the delicate little flower spiel.
Yuffie had a healthy appreciation for flowers. Well. A selective, healthy appreciation. She wasn't like Aerith, unconditionally loving and nurturing everything that stuck roots in the ground and grew toward the sun. Yuffie's choices were of the thorny variety, pretty and painful, and the climnable variety. Couldn't count on all her fingers and all her toes the number of days and nights she'd spent up in the trees
She swallowed the mouthful and washed it down with a long pull of water. "Evenin'," she replied, airily. "I don't think it's poisoned tonight, but I could always be wrong."
"Oh, no. I'm not the one who suspects poison." Someone on the bulletin earlier had, but really, even if there was some kind of drug in the food (which would explain the blackouts at night) there wasn't much else they could do other than starve. Apart from the inexplicable blackouts and being moved while unconscious -- which was unpleasant enough, certainly, but had never been proven to cause any harm -- there were no obvious side effects, and being able to function, not weakened by hunger, was important in a place like this.
She carefully picked up some of the noodles with her fork, examining it curiously before taking a bite. Though strange, this was certainly one of the more edible meals around here. That always seemed the fact with the last meal of the day, actually. Mid-day meals were often greasy, and breakfast...well.
"It doesn't have to be poisoned to be...strange, though," she continued, prodding at the rest of the noodles with her fork. "I think I'm becoming accustomed to this, but I'd really rather not have that
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It wasn't that he'd been certain the Captain would never, ever die. You couldn't afford to ignore possibilities like that, in a war. But he'd never thought of it like this, trapped and hunted. That simply wasn't the way it was supposed to go.
Hayes reclined on his bed, eyes half-shut, trying to school his thoughts; he could have talked to his cellmate, but no words came to mind. He could have done something with his own notebook, but he was sure the same problem would be even worse for that. He could have had some dinner, but for the first time in years, Hayes found he had no appetite.
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"Huh?" Hayes, of course, had completely forgotten about anything McCoy might have said earlier. In fact, for a moment he'd almost forgotten the other man existed, hence his surprise at being addressed, but he rallied quickly. "Oh. Yes. I've just had some... unpleasant news about someone from my universe."
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Luke was already there, and he waved briefly. "I don't know how appealing sauce that's 'homemade' here at Landel's sounds." He started off lightly. Today hadn't been bad, and there was no reason to keep being anxious about future meetings with the formerly deceased. Dumping his issues onto his roommate shouldn't become the norm anyway - at least not unless they were both complaining together.
It looked like the red-head might be a bit tired or possibly saddened by something, but he didn't want to assume too much. In this place he didn't think it really helped the mood to start off a conversation with So, ( ... )
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He still couldn't help but have fleeting thoughts about Landel chopping people up and serving them in the marinara sauce. It almost put him off eating dinner altogether, except he was pretty sure he was just being paranoid. Skipping dinner wouldn't help him keep his strength up for whatever they planned to do that night. (Though it looked like self-defense classes? He was too antsy for that.)
"So. I just ended up with more questions today. How about you?"
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It was just that being in the greenhouse eased some of the homesickness that had dragged at him for the last several days: it wasn't quite the same, but it was close enough to feel sort of like home. The shihakushou helped a little, as did the fake Hisagomaru he carried at night, but...it still wasn't the same as actually doing something so familiar. In this place he couldn't heal well, and he certainly wasn't good at anything, but he ( ... )
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"Oh...good," he replied, absently nibbling at his piece of bread. No dirt that he could find. Maybe he just had had a funny look on his face when Sora walked in. "I think I, um, have a plan that might work at night. At least, er, Sakura-san didn't think it was stupid. A-and I liked the greenhouse." Which was evidenced by the fact that he still hadn't changed his clothing afterwards, despite his nurse's suggestion that he do so. He was going to change into his real clothing after dinner anyway, so he didn't really see the point.
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"Hanna," Plucky admonished, "you have got to stop trying your luck!"
"I'm not trying it," replied Yuffie, blasé as ever, as she righted herself with a light-footed twirl. "Y'know, you really should be celebrating. Throwing a party! Possibly be giving me some kind of treat, like, say, I dunno, something cool and just for me." At her nurse's askance look of what, Yuffie sighed dramatically. It was no use; Plucky just didn't get it. Probably on purpose, which meant that, if nothing else, one thing hadn't changed; the woman had absolutely no sense of adventure. What kind of person didn't want to bend the rules at any and every opportunity? And, for that matter, what kind of person refused to reward somebody as singularly amazing as the Great Ninja Yuffie ( ... )
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Although -- if she no longer had to avoid raising suspicion where Lelouch was concerned, and Okita had even suggested she might find something in common with her roommate, would it be better to try to reconcile with Yuffie? She was still Himura's friend, and that grudge hadn't died: if anything, their conversation at lunch had fanned it to new life. But if their dinner hour was somewhat less uncomfortable and awkward it'd likely be for the best, for both of them ( ... )
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Yuffie had a healthy appreciation for flowers. Well. A selective, healthy appreciation. She wasn't like Aerith, unconditionally loving and nurturing everything that stuck roots in the ground and grew toward the sun. Yuffie's choices were of the thorny variety, pretty and painful, and the climnable variety. Couldn't count on all her fingers and all her toes the number of days and nights she'd spent up in the trees
She swallowed the mouthful and washed it down with a long pull of water. "Evenin'," she replied, airily. "I don't think it's poisoned tonight, but I could always be wrong."
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She carefully picked up some of the noodles with her fork, examining it curiously before taking a bite. Though strange, this was certainly one of the more edible meals around here. That always seemed the fact with the last meal of the day, actually. Mid-day meals were often greasy, and breakfast...well.
"It doesn't have to be poisoned to be...strange, though," she continued, prodding at the rest of the noodles with her fork. "I think I'm becoming accustomed to this, but I'd really rather not have that
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