Making A General Racket

[ViolentMedic]

((Marshall West continued from Dissolve.))

Checking on classmates wasn’t going so well.

Some people were still unconscious, and yet more were deliberately not answering the door. Whether they were tired or just ignoring him, Marshall wasn't sure. But he could try again tomorrow. Marshall had only just learned the meaning of the word quit on the island, and wasn’t ready to put the idea into practice yet. And they might change their minds, once the dust had settled.

He did need to try and check on Juanita--there were extra obligations there--but there were other rooms that were closer. It had nothing to do with not knowing what to expect regarding her. Out of those who had killed more than twice, Juanita was the only one he hadn’t seen on island at all, except for a glimpse of her getting onto the boats during the rescue.

No, it was definitely efficiency.

He knocked on the next door, after getting a confirmation from the (reluctant) guard that the occupant was awake and relatively healthy.

This time, he was allowed in pretty quickly. Maybe because Amy Chen hadn’t been on the announcements at all, and didn’t have to fear Marshall’s judgemental tendencies. (Maybe he should add onto his knocking a confirmation that, right now, judgement was too tiring a concept.)

In he went, IV wheels squeaking alongside his already loud footsteps.

“Good morning! How are you faring?”

[Yonagoda]

Amy yawned, her arms flying high in a full-body stretch. She found it kind of funny that sh didn't panic. She should panic, really. But there were no residual survival instints.

After a few seconds, she shrugged. “Well, I’m alive,” she laughed. “But I’m doing fine! Really!”

Two pats on the bed, gesturing at the boy to sit down. “I’m hoarding snacks. Do you want some? These are all, like, hospital-level food, so not the best, but it's nice. I wish I could keep the gelato. The gelato's nice.

"If you want to talk about what happened, I'm afrid I'm not your best choice of conversation partner, but... who cares. We're alive. Isn't that nice? Wow, it's so good to have sugar again. They'll pry the pudding away from my cold, dead fingers. Bad choice of words.

Sorry, it's just..."

What would the mind-healers on Aecor think? They were the spiritualist type, always seeing things as a sickness of the soul. She didn't know how to act, but she did know how the priestesses would.

"Anyways."

[ViolentMedic]

Marshall’s smile flickered at Amy’s bad choice of words.

“It’s… alright.” He brightened up. “Oh, hold on! I’ll be right back.”

Marshall turned around and vanished, the wheels squeaking back down the hall towards his room. It gave him a moment to compose himself, and it wasn’t long before he was back with his still-sealed pudding cup.

“Here. I didn’t eat mine.”

His stomach hadn’t known how to handle regular food. He hadn’t been much for sugar even before the island – he thought eating it now might put him in shock. Anything with flavour had been too much after so much stale bread and flavourless bars. And he hadn’t been able to drink the water until it was room temperature – when it was cold, touching it had been too much.

He took a seat on the bed where Amy had patted it, holding the pudding out for her to take.

“It’s fine! I’ve never been good at conversing! Lots of wrong words at wrong times, or saying them too loud and making people cry. I just thought I’d check in and see if you needed anything. Maybe more pudding cups if they give me any.”

Marshall beamed, but he quickly looked away.

“I’m glad you can be positive. ...It really is nice. Being alive… and all that.”

It was a simple thought. Somehow not one that had occurred to Marshall yet. It was all about how to use it. Not how nice it was to have it.