Day 59: Cafeteria (noon)
By the time lunch rolled around, things still weren't getting any better. The voices hadn't gone away; instead, Firo was pretty sure they were getting more frequent. Ennis had been silent since last night, but Czes's voice had been an insistent buzz in his ear all morning
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He was, however, a little worried about Byrne. The man had been pretty upset the night before, and had definitely come across as a bit distressed on his bulletin board message. He wouldn't say he really knew the man very well, yet, but he was concerned. So he made sure to find a seat within easy view of the door. It was early still, and the room wasn't too crowded, so it wasn't hard to do. Then he settled in to eat what passed for his lunch while he waited for the other man to arrive.
[For Byrne]
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Byrne entered the cafeteria for lunch and was instantly hit with the smell of rotting food, just like breakfast. Shit. So they were serious about this meal change. Once again, a good portion of the patients were eating the stuff without complaint (what the hell?), although he noticed this time that some were visibly repulsed. Good, there were sane people around. And there was Gren right over there waiting for him. Also good. Byrne (grudgingly) got a plate of the ( ... )
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"I was hungry. I mean, it's not exactly fine dining, but I've had worse." Army rations, for one. The food here leaned closer to what they'd served in the prison, or had until they switched to the pink stuff. Now it was just bland. "What's the matter?"
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"You're telling me you're okay with eating rotting food with--with maggots!" Byrne gasped, pointing at a few of the little white disgusting creatures crawling around in Gren's own bowl. "Eating live maggots? That you've had worse? How can that be worse! How can they feed this shit to these people?" And why weren't most of the patients disgusted by it, either? Or smelling it, for God's sake! The stench was enough to make any sane man sick to their stomach. And Gren's telling him he's had worse! Was he mad?!
Byrne shook his head and clenched his teeth, trying (but clearly failing) to control his reaction. "Please don't," he begged Gren, "I don't care if you say you've had worse. Please don't force yourself to eat that." Don't submit to their sick game. Please! He'd ( ... )
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Or, you know, a lot. He frowned a little and set his spoon down, at least for the time being. No need to upset Byrne any more than he already was. "Are you feeling okay?"
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Gren really couldn't see the green patches or the maggots, could he? Then--then what did that mean? Was Byrne able to see the true nature of the food, or was he going mad? He couldn't be going mad if there were other people looking sick in here too, right? Or if he could smell that stench of rotting food?
... Was he okay? Byrne wasn't the kind of guy that got upset very easily. And yet here he was, about to rip Gren's face off for something like this. He was not okay. This was not okay ( ... )
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"If you say it's no good, I won't eat any more of it," he replied, keeping his tone even and, hopefully, reassuring. "It's okay to be stressed. I think everyone here is stressed." He laughed a little to try and keep things light. "I know I've been having a hell of a week." Which was an understatement, surely. "There was something you wanted to talk about?" Not the food, he didn't think. He'd seemed surprised by that. Something else that was bothering him, then. There were any number of possibilities as to what that might be.
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Was he crazy? Or was he not? What was really going on? If it were something affecting more than one person as it appeared to be (to him, anyway), someone should have posted something about it on the bulletin board by now, right? He'd check it after lunch.
For now, however. Gren's calm responses were helping the weary prosecutor relax a little. He shook his head and let out a dry laugh. "Aguilar's damn determined to break us all, isn't he." So far, he wasn't doing a half bad job at it. As for something else to talk about... He could mention that mark on his arm from the ghost child, although with all this frustration at everything else, he was continuously ( ... )
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It looked as if Byrne was starting to calm down a little, which was good to see. He was worried about how wound up the man was letting himself get over things. Then again, he himself had been pushed to the breaking point a few times in the last few days, and he should have been used to this sort of treatment by now. "He's certainly giving it a good try," he agreed. "We'll have to disappoint him by not letting it get to us." It was said with a smile, and more conviction than he really felt. Easier said than done, after all. What he did know was that he was tired of being shoved around by these people ( ... )
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Not let it get to him, huh? Well, it was a little late for that now, wasn't it? Thank god Gren was being so patient with Byrne, because holy geez. Talk about not being on his best behavior today.
Although, Gren may not have realized that his innocent is he okay? question was mild salt to the deep wounds Byrne had gained last shift. Not literal wounds, obviously - the worse kind made from words. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me'? What a bunch of bull. "I-I don't know," was all he could reply, as he shamefully glanced down at the table. That wasn't entirely true. He knew Badd wasn't okay, but--but--damnit, he did know, it was all his fault, he shouldn't have said those words and now Badd hated him and it was all his fault and ohhh god kill him now please ( ... )
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"Oh..." Well, that was problematic, wasn't it? It was obvious he'd accidentally hit a nerve there, and the last thing he wanted was for Byrne to feel worse than he already obviously did. It made him all the more bothered that he hadn't had enough information the night before to lead them to Byrne's friend. Instead, all they'd manage to do was get chased by some sort of ghost...
"Sorry to hear it. Maybe he just needs a little time...?" Some people coped better with a friendly face around to help them through it, and some people needed time alone to deal with it themselves. Maybe his friend was the latter type.
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Byrne was pretty sure that was how this would end. But--but--damnit, it still hurt, thinking about what they'd said ( ... )
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Well, most people did, at any rate. He didn't know Byrne's friend, but he hoped that for Byrne's sake, things sorted themselves out.
"It's no problem," he replied. "I wish I could have done more, but that was the only place I knew to look." And at least now he knew that not everyone ended up in the same place. It seemed to differ depending on whether they wanted to force the patients to attack each other, or use them as guinea pigs. "You guys must be close, huh?" He doubted Byrne would have gotten this worked up, had they just been casual acquaintances.
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"Really? That's a long time." He felt a stab of--jealousy wasn't the right word for it, really--envy at Byrne's good fortune. To have someone you could trust and depend on like that... But thinking about it dredged up memories of camaraderie betrayed and everything he'd suffered because of it. He shoved them away for the moment. None of that way Byrne's concern, anyway. "He's here, so you might as well be grateful for it," he replied. "It's good to have someone you can depend on."
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