Characters: Carmel and Leandro
Setting: The kitchen, very late night after the games have finished.
So the first moments in this new place had been something of a bust. Leandro had gained and then lost an ally in the span of a short time, and ended up finding his way back to his room alone. It wasn't a long walk, and he was nominally grateful that his room was on the first floor, but every step alone in the hallway was uneasy. He could not help but remember walking alone in California State. The hoots and catcalls, thrown objects, promises and threats for later, and the real danger of running into a knot of unfriendly people around any particular corner. He should have been used to it by now, but it continually surprised him when he met people who didn't feel the need to always look over their shoulders. Their lives were as alien to him as if he had actually grown up on Mars and not a children's home.
He'd made it to room 2 and quickly began a look around. Bed, couch, bathroom. Dresser for the clothes, none of which he felt a particular love or hate for. They were fine. A strange computer and a strange message. It was this that sent his blood running cold. The very idea of what this meant... It was an experiment. A secret experiment. Psychiatric officials? Law enforcement? He read it once, and then read it again, and then could stomach no more. He got up from the chair, wrung his hands, turned the monitor off, turned it to face the wall, looked around the room again. No one knew they were here. They were at the mercy of this group. Anything could happen. A panic attack set in and his heart pounded, crackling lungs aching. Leandro stripped the bed and searched all through it. He checked the threads in the clothes for anything unusual – GPS sensors in the seams as big as grains of rice. He'd heard of it before. Under the bed, in the dresser, in the bathroom, around the corners of the mirror, in the cushions of the couch. He could not help himself; he was terrified.
It was around two hours before he ran out of energy and his own silence became deafening in his ears. He re-dressed the bed, sat on his couch for a while, and then drank with cupped hands from the sink. It tasted normal. Afterward he wondered if he should have, but he knew his body would mutiny on him if he didn't take more care than he had in the past. He needed his strength.
Dressing in a black hoodie he found amongst the clothes and plain black jeans, he slung the bag his clothes had been in over his shoulder and left his room under the cover of the night. The sounds of people in the common areas had come to a stop. He needed to search for things. He needed to prepare to weather the rest of the night. Leandro was good at skulking alone, moving quickly through shadows towards the places the map on the computer had pointed out. He briefly whisked through the library near his room and found a roll of tape in a desk. The tool shed outside looked promising, but the dark prevented him from really getting inside. Instead he detoured in the other direction and ended up in the kitchen.
There seemed to be food left out: some chicken, potatoes, and green beans, none of which Leandro particularly wanted to touch. He was hungry, but he wouldn't eat strange food. His long strides took him right past the center counter in which the food was placed, his narrow eyes scanning the drawers as he neared them. First one he opened seem to be various metal utensils. He closed it briskly, but without making a clink. Next one, some silverware... ah, a short paring knife. Not long, but strong for digging through the flesh of fruit. Leandro grabbed it from the drawer, holding it close to him, and then looked around again, left and right. A cloth rag... that was good. It went in the bag. Ah, a paper napkin. He wrapped the blade in the napkin and stuck the whole thing down his boot, safe and sound. Having the knife near him made him feel a little bolder.
Taking his bag and slinging it on his elbow, Leandro began to search through the pantry. He reached up high, slender fingers sliding past the labels of various items. What he wanted were cans. The first he took was a can of carrots, bringing it down to examine it. The label seemed pretty standard. Neither top nor bottom lid looked damaged. Still, Leandro scraped his fingernails into the edge of the label and pulled it up, letting it hang in a ribbon off the can. He busily examined the can's surface for any hint of a mar or dent. Nothing. Satisfied, it went in the bag.
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