Dr. Barns watched passively as the children slowly swept into the courtyard. A few milled around, chatting and giggling and even hugging. Dr. Barns, if he had been any other man, would have flinched at the sight of the public display of affection. It made him cringe, and make his skin crawl with the desire to wash it. He could feel his scowl darken, and a couple of the children in the front flinched away. Of course, he couldn't call them children aloud. In reality they were supposedly 'young adults', but this pretentious term for individuals not long fallen out of their mothers' womb reeked of false promise. It implied that these children were mature, decision making adults with a few flaws attributed to their youth. This statement, once given to him by a nursing woman who did not know him, was one that he detested. These children were immature, and stank of their own lack of decency.
He watched as they milled around as ants, and slowly came to be silent as the matron became impatient. In her hands, she held an iPad and stylus, and she held them as if they were foreign, alien objects from a time that wasn't hers. She held the objects stiffly, as though they might start singing, and her dislike for modern technology was palpable to anybody that laid witness to her. If she had her way, the morning Roll Call would be done by pencil and paper and would take twice as long. Fortunately, she was as obedient a bitch as any that he allowed to work here, and he personally enjoyed watching her struggle first with unlocking the filthy thing and then juggling the stylus with it, all while attempting to look severe and controlled in front of the children. Dr. Barns heard a small giggle from one of the younger children in the front, and the sound was loud compared to the rigid silence of the others. Instantly, his eyes narrowed and he turned to stare at the culprit, who blushed and looked away. Dr. Barns committed the face to memory, and turned to look at the steel haired matron as she finally began, prompted by the bell that indicated it was time.
The names were listed alphabetically, in order of the eldest twins. So, as usual, the first name called was Abel who called out that he was present, and then his twin, Lucy, did the same when her name was called next. Then it went on to Adam, and so on. As the names were called, a deadly hush hung thickly over the crowd. Other than the rhythmic call of names, the only sound was the whistling of the wind as it stirred the freshly fallen snow. The scene before him was tragically bleak. The monochrome of the day was punctured with the gaudy colors of the children's clothing, and even they seemed melancholic and forgotten next to the bright, clean white of the snow.
Dr. Barns watched them all with a slow, but keen eye, which was soon attracted to the back where the twins from the car, comically dressed in their pajamas still were being urged to take their place among the other children. They appeared lost and confused, and Dr. Barns scowled at the muttered disruption they caused. Their names would need to be added to the Roll Call, still, and they would need to receive the same preliminary physical and mental analysis that all of the others did when they arrived. That was the most interesting bit about receiving new children - finding out their relationship. Dr. Barns looked to the man who had escorted them from Camp Kidd and nodded, the gesture indicating that when the other twins went for breakfast, those two should be detained for their examination. The man nodded, and almost bowed at the waist in reply, and hovered at the edge of the crowd, watching the two new children.
As Dr. Barns continued to survey the crowd, a slight darkness in the shadow of one of the bordering Blocks caught his attention, and he would have smiled, or at least smirked, if he had been a normal man. He glanced at the matron once, and muttered to her that she should continue with the tedious Roll Call in his absence, gazed once more on the sea of heads before him, and then turned and dismounted the stage. A few of the children watched him as he did, and he met their gazes with a frigid glare which caused them swiftly to look away again, and Dr. Barns nodded to himself. The snow was thicker where Rufus was stood, and he looked at the stuff with irritation as he moved to stand next to the man.
"Good morning, Rufus," He greeted him coldly. The man beside him wasn't his friend. In general, Dr. Barns despised the idea of forming relationships on loose bonds such as 'friendship'. Instead, he was obliged to converse with the man due to a mutual interest in their charges. Rufus was what many would call his 'second', though Dr. Barns disliked the term. It implied that he needed help, which he certainly did not. If anything, he liked to think of him as one of his senior minions. Many would call their relationship 'friendship', though as it was born out of a mutual distrust and fascination with the twins, it was more of an agreement to amiably coexist.
"How went the experiment last night? Did we achieve the desired results?"
