For lastvoyages: Hallway Spam for Level 3

[cannibalmind]

 [A tiny girl pushes open the door to Hannibal Lecter's room. She is barefoot, in a pale ragged jumper and , her face smudged. For some reason there is a chain around her neck, which she sometimes tugs at uncomfortably. She looks around, then walks over to Mr. Pink's door and starts to knock on it shyly with a rather thin little fist.]

Comments

[wemaketheworld]

Don't need to call me sir. Not a soldier. Tanks?

[A slight shift and now he's seated fully on the ground, legs curled up in front of him. He scratches out the message, nodding in acknowledgment.]

[aubergine_cherub]

That's funny. You're all lumpy like a soldier. But I will call you Ror-schach if you want.

[She chews her lip.]

They say he became a bad man but I don't believe it. He was the best brother.

[wemaketheworld]

[Lumpy. What. Small children, you do not make sense. But he's not going to question it too much.

Scribble, scribble.]

Heard sometimes good people do bad things.

[Not that he really believes this, but. He doesn't really know the man enough to make a judgment, and from what he's seen he didn't seem particularly criminal. Untrustworthy, maybe, inclined towards luxury and a life of excess, but not criminal.]

[aubergine_cherub]

That must be why you're here then. You're not bad.

[She thinks very hard, chewing her lip.]

I just want my brother back. That's all.

[wemaketheworld]

[He hasn't done anything particularly bad that he can see either, but he just grunts; it's not really a conversation fit for children.]

Will tell him.

[Pause pause, and what do you do with children. He doesn't know.]

...Hungry?

[aubergine_cherub]

[She's three, and she was being starved in a Nazi irregulars camp. FOOD.]

They have chicken in the dining room. [terribly important.] And the berries.

[wemaketheworld]

Know where it is?

[It's okay. He'll probably escort anyway. SHE IS THREE, she clearly cannot be allowed to run around unattended. She may...fall. And break in half. Or something.]

[aubergine_cherub]

[She points to the elevator.] You go in there and push the button with one line on it and it goes up.

[wemaketheworld]

[A brief nod, and he stands, tucking the note away in a pocket for safekeeping.]

Little more complicated. But yes.

[aubergine_cherub]

Let's go then. [She doesn't take his hand, but toddles along beside him at a close proximity, but not underfoot.]

[wemaketheworld]

[He wouldn't let her get underfoot anyway; he's watching her like a hawk, acutely aware of where she is at every moment. He lets her in first then follows, waits for her to push the button (if she wants; if she can't/won't he'll do it himself easily enough), and though he has the feeling there's something he should say he hasn't a clue. So he keeps quiet.]

[aubergine_cherub]

[She peeeeeers up at the button and then remembers she is supposed to push it. Her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth and she reaches up and gives it a poke.]

People here have been good.

[wemaketheworld]

[She's a child, of course they have been; everything else about criminals aside, all but the worst ones harbor some kind of soft spot for children.]

Met many of them?

[aubergine_cherub]

Mr. Pink and Miss Claire and Miss Angie and Mr. Dean and Del Boy and...and...um...I forgot. [More finger chewing.] I'm sorry.

[wemaketheworld]

[A brief headshake and a grunt.]

S'okay.

[The elevator finds the floor, and wander wander wander, Rorschach always careful to follow while watching ahead of them, and soon enough they find their way to the dining hall. A glance around and he kind of ushers her towards the snack table; it's not much, but he won't steal from the kitchens.]

Between meals right now. Apologies.

[Not that he knows what she wants anyway. What does she eat? Children: what do.]

[aubergine_cherub]

Fruit! [She toddles over to the table and starts happily (and messily) stuffing her face. Meals? She's forgotten what those are mostly. Her manner is that of someone for whom eating regularly is an amazing luxury.]