Day 58: Cafeteria

[gald_digger]

Anise woke up feeling lucky to be alive. She still felt a bit waterlogged, even though her skin, hair, and clothes were completely dry. During last night's adventures, she'd swallowed a lot of water, and it still felt heavy and disgusting in her stomach. Her arms and legs were tired from treading water. Lying still in her bed, she still kind of

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When Claire opened his eyes to the white ceiling spread above him, he was disappointed. Just when he'd been about to make some progress, too! There hadn't been any warning, either. One minute, he'd been in the dark hallway, asking Miss (?) Grell about chainsaws and remembering his manners, and the next, he was back here in his room, staring at the ceiling with, once again, nothing of significance achieved.

Well no, he had achieved something after all. The handrail-type thing he'd borrowed from the future restroom wasn't as cool as a chainsaw, but it'd work perfectly fine for him, he decided. Claire took some pride in his ability to improvise sometimes, after all

[immortale]

Waking up in his room when he'd just been with Peter and the young man they'd been trying to help wasn't as disorienting as waking up from fighting off a pair of cats, but it was still disorienting. Firo stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before he finally sat up, raking his fingers through his hair. They hadn't been able to do too much for that torture victim, but now that it was morning, he was going to be okay, wasn't he

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Hmm... so should he try writing his plans down? Is that how planning things worked? He really hated writing stuff down; it took so much effort that could be spent doing things, right? But maybe it would help this time? Hey, he still had that journal thing that he'd found on his first night here, right? It was still in his drawer, if he remembered correctly, and he'd only used one page to scribble on to test those magical pens. Maybe that'd work? Actually, since everything from his pockets had disappeared that morning, did all his other stuff disappear as well? That would be a problem wouldn't it

[immortale]

Claire seemed distracted this morning. It had taken a moment for him to even realize Firo had joined him, and even then, he'd sunk back into silence after greeting him. After waiting a moment, Firo gave a small shrug and started on his breakfast. The gruel tasted just as bland as it had been every time prior, but at least his stomach appreciated it this morning. He'd already put away several spoonfuls before Claire suddenly started talking again.

From the second his friend opened his mouth, Firo was lost. "Huh?" What journals? Who would look through them-the guards? What would not liking what they'd see matter if someone wanted to look through someone's journal, anyway? And what would be Claire's fault?

He'd opened his mouth to ask those very questions, but before he'd had a chance, Claire had already moved onto a different(?) topic. ListsFiro's spoon had found its way back to the bowl, and stayed there as he stared at his friend, who was now asking how he'd been. Firo's mind was still trying to catch up with everything

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[ajkhdj I am the most terrible at tagging, sorry ;; If you want to drop, just let me know asklgh]

Claire just sat and waited for his answers, apparently not noticing that Firo seemed to be having trouble following his line of reasoning. When the response started taking longer than seemed necessary, he blinked slowly, then began stirring his porridge breakfast for lack of a better thing to do, wondering for a moment whether he should probably try to eat some of the pink atrocity at least. He hadn't had dinner last night, after all.

When Firo did reply, Claire just had to sigh. "I'm talking about lists right now, Firo! You know, those things you write on paper?" Have an overly complicated (and not very discerning), hand gesture here to attempt to illustrate his point more clearly. "So I've never really tried to write up lists before, always used to think they were a waste of time."

He now abandoned his spoon in his bowl for the moment, freeing his hand to use to prop up his chin as he leaned forward and gave Firo this look that said

[immortale]

"I know what lists are," Firo shot back, bristling slightly. "I just don't know what you'd be making one for

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"Oh," Claire said. "You should have said so then! And I just explained." If he detected Firo's annoyance (which he probably didn't), he gave no indication or change in demeanor.

"Huh? Oh yes, yesterday night, I had a gun in my box of possessions. Not sure how or why I got it, but it's a pretty clear message, don't you think? Here, have this gun, bump someone off with it, right? Only two bullets included with it, but I can make do with what I have. I borrowed a railing from a restroom last night as well, so I'd also have that to improvise with. Provided they do give it back

[immortale]

Firo couldn't help but wonder where the gun had come from. He hadn't even gotten his hands on a knife yet, and for Claire to just be given a gun with his possessions...? He supposed it could have been something similar to finding his own clothes in that box, but no matter how sharp he looked, he couldn't kill someone from being well-dressed at night.

He might have commented further on the young man who'd been experimented on, but then Claire went on to say that he'd taken his advice on the bulletin, which threw Firo for a loop. He couldn't remember having given any advice, per se, though he'd thought about warning Claire against being so open about his job where everyone could see it. Even if they weren't in the '30s any longer, Vino was still a wanted man

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Claire was continuing his previous train of thought, eyes narrowing as he watched that guard, considering. Actually, maybe it was an idea he could try. He'd seen people get sedated or whatever when they got too violent or resisted just a bit too hard or too long, but then again, that was them. They weren't Vino. They weren't the Rail Tracer. And that was a key difference, after all. So maybe if he tried it, it would work. It would make everything just that much easier

[immortale]

If Firo was going to comment further on their guards, that line of thought quickly disappeared when Claire brought up 'Felix Walken'. Wasn't that...? There was no mistaking it; that was definitely the name that Claire had been insisting on using for the past couple of years. Claire was still Claire, of course, but...

-But before that, his room? "I was just moved to M44," he answered, a confused look lingering on his face over the matter of 'Felix Walken'. "Tell me yours, too. I might need to know it some time." Especially if that torture thing from last night was a regular occurrence, checking up on Claire from time to time might not be a bad idea. Claire could handle himself, but it did say a lot that their captors had gotten him here in the first place.

"About 'Felix Walken'... If they're calling you that, shouldn't you be happy?" It meant that at least someone was calling him by that name.

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"M44, M44, alright, I'll remember it and pay you a visit if I ever feel like it. I think we're in the same block." Numbers seemed to stick better than names did in Claire's head. "Oh, I got moved last night as well. I'm in M3 now."

Excellent! Now he had someone he could talk to if his roommate turned out to be the silent type! If he got all his possessions back, perhaps he should mark out Firo's room on the map he'd taken from the bulletin board.

Claire didn't think he had any other questions after this last one. It was also probably nearing time for breakfast to end, right? Not that he was watching the time, but he had been taking a long time trying to decide whether or not he wanted to eat his gruel. Which, he suddenly decided, was a solid, resounding no. Even if he'd skipped dinner last night.

...Oh, Firo was saying something. "Hm?"

And then Claire had to pause for a moment and try to understand. Because

[immortale]

"If it's M3, it's a different block from me." Now, at least. If only Firo hadn't been moved, they'd be a lot closer to one another-his old room had been M9, and it would have been easy to stop by M9 to check on Claire from time to time. With the walk between M44 and M3, though, chances were pretty good that his friend would be long gone by the time Firo got there.

"Happy that you're being called-" he started, cutting off suddenly. Ah... Was it possible that Claire actually didn't know? Given the whole 'time travel' thing Scott had talked about, even if it had been 1934 when he'd been on his way to prison, there was a chance it might have been a different year entirely for Claire. If so, it could have been before he'd started going by 'Felix Walken'. It had to have been, if he was saying it was someone else's name.

"...Forget it."

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"Ah, really? Perhaps I remembered wrong then. I should re-check the map I found," Claire said. Again, if they gave it back. Maybe he could check out the bulletin board later to see if there was another copy he could take. It sure was something helpful to have.

He waited for Firo to explain, then stared when he cut himself off and told him to forget about it. What? But Claire was curious! What was this all about? He would think that Firo understood how important Claire's names were to him, since they'd known each other for so long. So what was this?

"No wait, what did you mean by all that?" he asked. "Just tell me!"

[immortale]

Firo had been hoping that Claire would just let it go, but he should have known he wouldn't be so lucky. What should he do, though? Would it be okay to just tell someone about the future, or would that cause problems and change it? And for that matter-if Claire had been here a few years ago, why hadn't he ever mentioned the place?

He looked down at his bowl of gruel as he thought it over. Claire had already asked him to explain, so he wasn't going to get out of it easily, was he? It would be a lot less trouble just to tell him.

Firo sighed, and then looked at Claire once more.

"It's just... You've been using the name 'Felix Walken' for a couple of years now."

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Claire just waited, watching as Firo seemed to be either considering what to say or thinking about whether or not tell him. (Not that Claire would have let him get away with the latter. He could be very dogged in his pursuit of answers when he wanted to.)

Finally, Firo looked back up. Oh, so he was going to tell him anyway?

... But what he said wasn't quite expected.

"... But I haven't been."

And Claire was certain of this. He'd been going by 'Claire Stanfield' as his birthname, then 'Vino' as his undercover alias, a few other names he might have conjured up for a few jobs or another and then discarded, and most recently 'Rail Tracer.' But when had he taken up 'Felix Walken'? Pretty sure he hadn't, in fact. He remembered in encounter with that famed assassin himself in the field, but nothing else that would make him take up the name and ask to be referred to by it.

Firo had said a couple years? How could that be possible?

[immortale]

He bit back another sigh, trying to figure out how he was actually supposed to explain anything. He was positive now that he was a few years ahead of Claire, but he couldn't quite figure out if making his friend believe that was going to be very easy or impossible.

"But you will," he said. Maybe if he explained the reason he'd had taken up the name? He'd been told it before, and it really was so like Claire that maybe it would be enough to make him understand. And come to think of it, hadn't Claire had mentioned the Flying Pussyfoot when Firo had first arrived? "You explained it before by saying something like 'Claire's dead, so I needed a new name in order to get married'..."

His right hand tightened around his spoon, though he'd long since stopped mixing the gruel. "If you haven't decided that already, then you must not have bought the name yet. But for me, it's already 1934."