She nodded. “Naturalmente signore, sarei molto grato.” She pushed a piece of hair back behind her ear, triggering a light show as her hair adjusted position.
Lucius takes a moment to look up and give an acknowledging nod before looking back down, waiting to enter the cafeteria.
The guard inhaled as if to speak, but one of the labcoat men cut him off. “He doesn’t really know, and neither do we, after months of testing. Right now the American government is pressing us heavily to find the answer, likely for military purposes.”
The guard suddenly smacked himself on the head and staggered for a moment. “Are you all right?” The labcoat man who had been speaking asked, moving partially to assist and then stopping.
“Yeah, I uh… Yeah.” The guard replied, straightening himself with a worried tone in his voice. “I’m good, yeah. Is uh…” He looked towards the glass. “Is Roswell done?”
“I suppose.” The man sighed, pressing a large button above the rest of the machinery. “Roswell, if you would shed your scales please.”
“Don’t call them that either!” The speaker crackled as Roswell shook himself, oblivious of the large black object which had materialized behind him. “I don’t want to sound like some kind of lizard! Pretty sure one of the people here fits that better… Or teeth!” He got closer to the glass. “Sonny, you better not be calling them that anymore, y’understand?”
The guard looked dumbstruck at the retort. “But I’ve never called them-”
“It’s alright, son.” The man replied. “If you’re finished, Roswell, we can open the doors, since it’s nearly meal time.” There was a mechanical hiss, and the doors slowly swung open, allowing Roswell to shuffle out, brushing his not-teeth from his body as he did so.
“I’m going to work on cleanup.” The man continued. “In the meantime, why don’t you escort Roswell and miss…” He looked at Veronica to help finish the sentence.
“Gentlemen,” Dr. Huber turned back to the door. “E signora, ovviamente, The Cafeteria.”
The doors swung open to reveal a fairly average-looking cafeteria bar with numerous trays for different types of food, and numerous other people entering the room via a second door, all of which looked just as bizarre as the folks they had seen in the training room.
There was a small, bony woman, early 20’s, with an incredibly gothic appearance, dressed in nothing but black and white with the occasional grey added in. It seemed the colors of the room did not reflect off her in their normal form, but instead reflected off in the same grey hues elsewhere on her body.
There was also a man with olive skin, a pencil moustache, and thin, cruel lips, who seemed to be embodying the American 1920’s in mannerisms and style, and who otherwise appeared to be completely normal. On his shoulder was a small monkey with a ring of fur around its head.
The largest fellow in the group was easily a couple heads above everyone else, with a craning neck and deep, sunken eyes. In spite of this, however, he looked with animated amazement at the cafeteria counter and rubbed his hands in child-like delight, his eyes aglow with the idea of what foods might be hiding within. But he didn’t have long to dream, as he was firmly elbowed in the spine and sent collapsing towards the gothic woman.
“HUBER!!”
Maximilian Huber turned around slightly with an expression implying the pinnacle of annoyance, and threatened to collapse by just how bothersome this intrusion was. He straightened himself a second later, and looked flatly at the somewhat spongey individual who stalked up to him.
“You won’t get away with this, Huber!!” The man rebuked, his skin slowly changing from a porous blue into the caucasian tones it had been before his head got blown up.
“Max, I did give you a warning.” Dr. Huber calmly responded, but his expression remained the same. “Now please go eat your food and we can discuss this later.”
“Oh, we’ll discuss this, we’ll discuss my knee in your face!!” The stick-like man jumped suddenly, trying desperately to bring his knee high enough to hit Dr. Huber in the nose. But he was greatly overassuming his own athletic capabilities, and fell to the ground without much progress.
Dr. Huber glared in disappointment at him for a moment before stepping over him as he clutched his ankle. “This way.” He responded, while the fellow grumbled out some very unkind words at the doctor.
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With the cafeteria now before them, Lucius looked up and pulled his hood open some more. Enough to where he could easily see now but still closed enough to cling near the sides of his face. Perhaps they would have something good to fill the holes.
However, whatever control his stomach had over him was restrained upon spotting the goth lady. If told this was due to the weird way color bent around her, most would assume that Lucius was lying. Everyone knows what a guy of his age and gen wants and she was perfect material. But the main thing Lucius was wondering if this was similar to him and if she also did the deed. Only to see one of the others threaten to flatten her while he considered these things.
“LOOK OUT!” Lucius shouted, beyond peaking the mic not in front of him. He stretched an arm and almost looked like he was going to dash forward, but something prevented him. It always does.
Though his attention on that scene is pulled away by Max’s comeback. Lucius freezes up, only to see Oozy collapse in a pathetic heap. With the bad zombie man not an issue, he looked back to see what happened with the goth and giant.
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Renata was very much silent, not entirely sure what to make of a bunch of people coming in, shouting in a language that she didn’t understand, then failing to fight. Wither way, she opted to follow the man, she didn’t know much else to do.
Well, doesn’t look like we’ll be going hungry, but that’s not much of a surprise.
Silas simply nodded as he followed the doctor.
“Magellan,” Veronica replied. “I suppose I will return with the group, yes.”
The massive fellow had reached across to the wall to save himself from the fall, and was making some attempt at apology to the goth woman, who crept out from under his shadow and made a wide circle around him towards the counter.
Her eyes briefly caught sight of Lucius, but the approaching Huber forced her to snap her gaze back to the food. “Now, friends, we have a wide variety of foods which we cycle through frequently, and there is always the option to provide for any allergy or intolerance. Ah, today we appear to be having game fowl of various kinds - turkey, duck, goose, chicken, grouse and quail - whatever whets your appetite.”
“Very good.” The man nodded to the side, and the guard walked alongside Veronica out of the room. “Is uh, is everything alright? I mean, did something happen back there? No, what I mean is-”
“There y’are!” Roswell marched up to the pair after grabbing a jacket from a nearby hook. “Say, you never did mention what your abilities were! Most folk around here do something only kind of interesting. One big fellow can only make people understand each other, which seems pretty dumb ta me.”
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Renata spoke up, “È possibile che tu serva Pašticada? È uno dei miei piatti preferiti.” She pointed the question more towards Hubert, hoping he would be able to translate. She did doubt it however, as it was a rather time consuming dish, taking days to cook.
“My abilities?” Veronica asked. She realized, yes, they would be considered “abilities” but she saw it more like some sort of curse. “Well, I suppose I haven’t figured it all out myself. And it’s rather dangerous. The best way I can put it is ‘spontaneous combustion’. I seem to be able to light myself on fire and survive. Nothing useful like what you have.”
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“Is the caf open all day?” Silas asked absentmindedly as he walked by the counter, glancing at the food.
And I will have to find out what language that is. It’s not french, 2 years of that in high-school taught me at least that much.
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Lucius lets out a small breathe and blinks a couple times, seeing that the two are fine. Though now that food was directly being called out…
“So, do we get to eat now or…wait, what’s a grouse? Is it a goose hybrid of some sort? Grouse…goose raging moose…”
Dr. Huber paused, turning slowly towards Renata. “Io… Credete così. Sì, dovrebbe essere possibile. Se vuoi, posso informare lo staff di prepararlo per il pasto di domani.”
“Calf…” Dr. Huber muttered, trying to discern what Silas was talking about. “…Oh. Not all the time, but we try to keep most facilities open through daylight hours.”
Dr. Huber gave a fake laugh. “You may begin, of course. Although don’t have too much grouse, it can cause a stomach ache.”
With Dr. Huber’s mention of beginning, the other individuals in the building began filing in, taking numerous trays and filling to their desired level.
“Nothin’ useful?!” Roswell retorted as they left the building and walked across the courtyard. “Are you kiddin’? That’d be perfect! Why, I could save hundreds of dollars on heat for my cows! What would it cost for you to hang out in my wood stove for a couple of weeks?”
The guard cleared his throat while glaring at Roswell. “We don’t want to be late. You know how that deep-eyed fellow hogs all the food, and-”
“Dag nabbit!” Roswell stamped his foot again. “I thought I told that Hooper to get rid of him! I can’t stand his bothersome attitude one cent - one cent, do you understand? Do you understand, missy?” Roswell turned towards Veronica, but didn’t have the time to wait for an answer, as the guard had strode ahead and was holding the door for him.
“Consarn it, these kids.” He mumbled as he forced his legs to move faster.
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The girl looked a little surprised, like she didn’t expect them to actually have it. “Per favore, no, sarebbe un’impresa di più giorni. Apprezzo l’offerta comunque, lo terrò a mente” She noticed the newcomers taking trays and asked: “Dobbiamo mangiare adesso?”
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“Oh, uuuhhhh,” Lucius takes a few large steps and quickly gets in line. Grabs a tray, almost forgets to use the serving utensil to grab a few pieces of chicken, and exists soon after. He just stands near one table, looking around the sitting area, trying to decided where to go. Though by the time he does, he’ll likely eat all his chicken while standing there.
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Wen quickly looked around for his mask, hoping to spot it, or the person who had it.
Veronica almost felt insulted of the notion of being used as a heat stove. Though, when she thought about it, it was true: she could heat food relatively inexpensively now. Huh.
Veronica tried to see if she could somehow, someway, catch up with the group she left. She really disliked having to follow around the agents.
Silas grabbed a tray and picked out a few chicken legs, nothing fancy, and sat down at the closest table, all in a manner that to an observer would come across strangely efficiently.
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Seeing Silas sit down, Lucius decides to join that table. He doesn’t sit next to, nor across, from Silas but somewhere further on the side.
“That was quick. How do you just decide like that?” He asked.
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“No, no, solo se lo desideri.” Huber responded. “Ho bisogno di vedere per un momento gli effetti personali di uno di questi compagni.” With that, the Doctor walked a little ways off, speaking with a guard holding something in his hands.
The doctor pointed the guard towards Wen and continued walking away at a casual pace. The guard approached, gave a short military-style bow, and opened the metal case he carried, revealing the mask belonging to Wen in immaculate condition.
The trio approached the cafeteria building, the guard breaking from Roswell and Veronica to open the doors for them. “It gets a little oppressive here, what with all the serving me like I’m in a folk’s home. Just because I’m not a spring chicken-”
Roswell paused and sniffed the air. “Speakin’ of chicken. Well, help yourself, missy! I suppose I’ll see you around some other time.” Roswell grabbed a tray and went around the wrong side of the counter, prompting the guard to go after him and try to convince him of his error.
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