Dante hadn't gotten much sleep the night prior. The moment his eyes shut the screams of his sister that fateful night sounded as clear as ever. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't hear those screams another moment. He had been sitting up on his bed, legs folded comfortably beneath him. He was lucky enough that they allowed him to keep the cards. Though not without giving them a terrible bending looking for anything concealed within them. They were already old with the edges worn down and brown from dirt. They couldn't take much more of a beating before they were useless. But he wouldn't let that happen. Emilia loved that deck of cards. It the backs had paintings of animals on them. Though most of the pictures had worn off. They were still sentimental. 

He idly folded and shuffled the deck of cards carefully and with expert precision. He had shuffled this very deck nearly a million times since the first day he had it. No wonder it was falling apart. As he played with the deck of cards he stared at the far of wall, lost in his thoughts.

[i]'Emilia. Where are you?'[/i] He thought to himself, The words echoed in his mind as if waiting for it to reach Emilia's ears and get a response. But no words returned to him. It was silence. A double edged sword. Emilia wasn't there but neither was the voice. The dark entity that invaded his soul and daily tries to stake claim. But he wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. If that voice took over who would show Emilia new tricks? She loved his tricks. He couldn't let you be bored and want to leave. No no, never leave. That wasn't an option.

[i]'She must not be responding because she is back in Sicily, trying to find my chocolates. Yes, that's it. She loves searching for my hidden candy back home. She will be back soon. Of course she will. No need to worry.'[/i] He reasoned to himself. Lost in his thoughts to the point he didn't even realize he was still shuffling the deck of cards.

[i][b]'You know she's dead right?[/i][/b] A deep, raspy voice spoke out within his mind. It was him. Apparently he wouldn't get to spend some time without the irritating voice chiming in with his unwanted two cents. [i][b]'Burnt to a crisp remember. Like a marshmallow stoked in a fire too long.'[/i][/b]

"Shut up!" He called out rather loudly in a demanding tone, "Shut up..." he echoed the command in a whisper.

[i][b]'Sorry. Have a struck a cord? Are you upset you were too much of a bitch to go in and save her. Don't forget that it's your fault she is dead. You left her there to char.'[/i][/b] The voice said matter of factly, his tone conveying the wicked grin.

"And remember you are only an empty voice in the back of my head with no power..." He reminded in a hiss no louder than a whisper through a clenched jaw.

[i][b]'For now...'[/i][/b] The voice trail off with laughter that slowly faded into silence.

Before he could dwell on the matter for another moment he heard the latch of the cell open with a loud clank, echoing within the small room. Dante slipped into his usual facade, broad grin bearing white teeth. A confident look that hid the terror behind his eyes. He tried his best to act normal, not letting people see the strings that barely held him together. He was a clown with a painted on mask.

He stuffed his carded into the pocket of his patient uniform, keeping them out of sight. As the door slid open with a deafening screech a man stepped in, a stoic look to his face as if he had hardly the time for games. But games were Dante's favorite thing.

Dante easily jumped to his feet. With a flourish and the bow of his head he greeted the nurse with an elegant decree. "Why the best of mornings to you sir. Though I regretfully must inform that I had not requested any wake up service. But, if you so happen to have a chocolate for my pillow I would graciously take it off your hands." He stated in an charming accent, holding out his hand with his palm up awaiting his chocolate treat. The man did not seem even the slightest impressed nor amused. Surely if it were a woman she would have found it charming; or at least he tried to reason.

"You need to make your way to the Cafeteria and have your meal. I have medicine for you." He instructed without even a hint of emotion. No showmanship. Surely this man was not a man who loved his job. And one thing you did not want a man doing who did not love his job doing is stabbing you with a needle. Which he so happened to be doing. How rude, and not even a loli to make the ouchy all better.

The syringe emptied quickly and the liquid worked faster than expected. Outwardly from his arm he felt a warm sensation followed by the distinct affect of no longer giving a crap. Which was nice if he had to admit. "You know..." he began, a tad less formal as it had been prior. "If I wanted to spend my morning getting High.. you could have left me in London." He informed with a swipe of a finger across his nose. 

And with that he was off. A long step that seemed to throw him into motion, coming to an abrupt halt in the center of the hallway, a quick spin on his heels and he was off once more though now down the hallway and towards the stairs. The 'Cafeteria' signs were a large help when navigating through the halls. For a moment he thought he was alone but the sharp poke at his back to hurry up was a not so kind reminder that he was not.

Three wrong turns and an awkward elevator ride with Sir happy later he had found himself in the large mess hall. Apparently not many had arrived yet. It was only some strange fellow, a tiny girl that seemed to have three stomachs, and a.... [i][b]'Dear god.. Did his mother get fucked by a pigeon!?'[/i][/b] the voice chimed back in at the sight of the raven/humanoid creature. [i]'Apparently..'[/i] Dante responded in his own thoughts, a rare moment the two were both in agreement and equal shock.

Dante tried his best not to stare, walking over to where the two lines met before separating going in different ways. He was a bit set back, looking off to one side it was a rather grotesque display of all things.... Well gross if he were to be completely Frank. Frank being a man he knew in London who was awfully blunt and mildly dimwitted. Though as his eyes fell upon the pig hearts his annoying mental companion apparently just had to chirp up. [i][b]'Ooh.. Those look tasty.. Not nearly as good as a human heart but I am in no position to judge. Come on, just a bite Dante....'[/i][/b] The voice chirped, nearly begging. [i]'Not a chance. I am getting pancakes. And I thought I told you to shut up.'[/i] Luckily it wasn't close to his birthday, he had little power to refuse Dante and continue his incessant pleading. He grabbed a tray and a plate, walking casually through the line he deemed delicious and began his raid upon the great lands of flavor until he has won the conquest against the dreadful rumble within his stomach.

He grabbed pancakes, fluffy and still steaming with warmth as if they were made out of a dream. He drowned the poor thing in butter and syrup before moving on. He stacked his plate with bacon and sausage, a couple sunny side up ends in the corner trying to keep clear of the syrup river that flowed rich in this land. He still continued on. He grabbed toast, an onion ring or seven, a bundle of grapes, some cream cheese with a dash of bagel and a slather of strawberry jam and an apple to keep the doctor away of course. Ever since he had been given the powers of real magic it messed with his body chemistry, burning calories at an accelerated rate. He could hardly keep up with it to be honest. 

The somehow skinny Italian waddled his way to an empty table, dropping his tray on the metal surface with an obnoxiously loud bang; he cared little for the eyes that may fall upon such a clatter of noise. He began to think if he were fed this nicely every morning this place didn't seem so bad. Though assuredly he would regret those words soon enough.