Snippet #2373171

Room 1.
1315.

A person had so many tells, and Tori had seen Xavier's. It was so obvious, when someone was trying not to look at their hands; the proverbial elephant that they've been ordered to put from their mind and therefore can't stop thinking about. Tori smiled, all small, sharp teeth, and stuck out a darkly pattered tongue.

"Do you find it strange, that I know all sorts of quotes? I can tell you about the classics, about pivotal figures in history, about complex mathematical and psychological theory... Would it surprise you, Xavier, to realise that I'm just as intelligent as you are, if not more so?"

Without warning, Tori's mannerisms changed; he went from hopping hyper-actively about the room to leaning with a casual air against the door-frame, smirking. "I think it's sort of funny, really, how people make that mistake. They seem to think that just because someone's crazy, they're stupid. Somehow less. I wonder what they'd think, if they realised I could beat them at any debate, could do their job better and faster, could get better grades, have a higher IQ..."

He snickered. "For all you know, I could BE Einstein, but nobody ever thinks of that because I'm wearing these pyjamas, standing here, talking to you. But I wonder what would happen if I brushed my hair and stole some clothes- I could be a doctor. Or a visitor. All I'd need was the right ID and nobody would check. It's because they don't expect a doctor to be crazy. They don't expect a visitor to be dangerous. All you have to do is get a costume and play the part, and nobody questions you."

Dark lips curled up into a grin. Tori's eyes, when they locked onto Xavier's stare, were frighteningly lucid. "Have you ever thought about trying it, Xavier? Learning to play pretend."

Control Room.
1315.

There had, of course, been detailed plans put into place about how the first day of the contestants' new lives should play out, but Icarus rapidly found herself ignoring it, just as the Instigator had. It was the flaw in these things; the interaction rapidly became too interesting, and the itinerary was sacrificed as a result. No matter, however; things were still progressing nicely.

Deliberate, Icarus reached for the microphone, and flicked on the PA.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," she purred, voice calm, casual, and well enunciated. "It is currently eleven-thirty in the morning on Monday the seventh of July. Lunch will begin in thirty minutes in the Dining Room, and all residents not confined to their rooms are requested to visit before twelve-thirty to receive their medication and meal."

She pressed another switch, watching on a multitude of screens as small clocks were unveiled in key locations, displaying the (false) time and date. Simultaneously, all clocks in unoccupied rooms reset themselves to the new Asylum Standard Time. In the cases where a clock was visible to an inmate, a subtle malfunction made itself apparent so that the clock would appear broken when examined.

Icarus smiled; this was going to be interesting.