Arturo wandered the halls, his cocky smirk and winking eye keeping the eyes of others off him. He didn't particularly want to talk to anybody on this morning trip to the briefing room. His stomach gurgled, he ignored it, images of last night's horrors ripping themselves into his head before being pushed back. His stomach gurgled in hungry response, demanding food. He sighed and rubbed his stomach. A sharp turn and he was headed to the mess hall, the place he least wanted to be.<br/><br/>He tried to be as nondescript as possible, no eye contact, no acknowledgment of his name. He tried to only get something to drink but was forced to take a bowl of gruel. He scowled at the attendant who had already put her attention towards scooping another helping into another man's plate. On top of this wonderful meal, toasted cardboard, too-yellow eggs, and a glass of orange colored drink were added. He lugged the nourishment to an empty table, sunk into a seat and eye the food, trying to find the will to even lift a fork. At this point, where he had finally lifted his hand and placed it over the utensil, did the others descend upon him.<br/><br/>"ARTY!! HEY ALMOST DIDN'T SEE YOU THERE!"<br/><br/>His hand suddenly snapped like a trap, grabbingthe fork in a vice grip as his eyes grinded up to look at the her. A morning person. His mind simmered with a caustic remark, before his lips curled up into a grin.<br/><br/>"Stacy, have a seat. I was hoping I wouldn't have to sit alone!"<br/><br/>The words fell out of his mouth with the deep hum of a tenor voice. They were warm and endearing, recited each day. His mind threw daggers at her as she sat down, attracting more. Soon the empty table was filled with people who enjoyed his company. And with each person, his restraint grew, keeping back the flood of acid that would pour from his mouth. He hated the morning people, it was only after he forgot each night that he started to warm up on the inside. He went at his food, his hands unusually tense as he manipulated the mess of edibles into his mouth. Laughing and making pointless small talk.<br/><br/>Finally it was gone, only one bite left until he could politely make his escape. He enthusiastically plugged the food into his maw and bit down hard, his teeth sinking into his tongue. The sharp pain was immediate, an electric jolt that made him hiss. As he swallowed that last morsel, a hint of taste finally entered his mouth, coppery. Blood. The people around him were bleeding and screaming. The faces grotesque, warped, burned, dying, begging. He stood up from the table, throwing his chair back and sending it to the floor. The others looked at him questioningly, some concerned, others ready to pounce on weakness.<br/><br/>"Just took a look at the time. I gotta go."<br/><br/>_____________________<br/><br/>Arturo slunk into the briefing room, his tongue healed. His hands steady, his gaze steely. He sat down in the front, a empty seat separating him from Dawn. He rubbed his temples as the morning started to go away, dragging the night roaring and screaming along with it. He started to poke and prod at his metal arm, a bored and blank expression on his face.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>