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Topic Started: Aug 14 2016, 12:07 PM (1,376 Views)
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Mr. Danya
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((B025 - Sandy Bricks: start))

Sandy Bricks was experiencing a hell within a hell.

When he’d come to in the AT’s sick and twisted presentation, he’d tried to realise what was going on, tried to keep calm and level headed, tried to make some sense and understanding of where he was. That had lasted right until they blew Mr. Graham’s brains out.

All the noises had suddenly turned into a high pitched static and everything around him had just gone blurry. He’d heard everything, but understood nothing, He’d kept trying to catch his breath, regain some semblance of lucidity, but ultimately he had blacked out before Tracen had even put his gas mask back on.

He’d come out of his unconscious state in a startled daze, covered from head to toe in a thick sweat, and it took him a while to even register where he was.

He was still hiding in the store room that he’d awoken in, curled up with his head pressed against his knees as the quiet pacing of rats moved around him.

His body was covered with a slick sweaty moisture that proved uncomfortable and distracting from his efforts to concentrate and focus, but it barely measured up to what was going on around him. It was dark in the room, and that was a blessing. Darkness was comforting: it helped him feel isolated, like he didn’t have to deal with other people whilst he tried to sort his shit out. Normally he’d use music to help cope as well, but of course the terrorists had stolen his iPod, so that wasn’t possible. Every so often, he thought he heard someone outside, but whether that was just his imagination or not couldn’t be said. He wanted them to stay outside for as long as he needed, though.

He may have missed the second half of Danya’s speech, but he knew what the rules of this game were. He tried so hard to avoid these sorts of topics, but in this day and age of social media, who could really stay away from the misery that happened in the world? He knew that the collar around his neck was a bomb, and he knew that the idea was to leave one person standing. It was like something out of a sick story, but this had been a reality for so long, and now he was right in the middle of it.

He pressed his forehead harder into his legs, pushing the brim of his hat up with the top of his knees as his arms curled around his shins.

He needed calm. He needed peace. He needed to not be here.
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((Daniel 'Danny' Brooks continued from I Say You Kill Your Heroes And Fly, Fly, Baby Don't Cry.))

Danny did not have a plan.

That had been true for most of his life, it just hadn't been a problem until now. College plans? Eh, he'd wing it. Plans to woo that girl who he was into? Eh, he'd wing it. Plans to escape the last girl he'd dated? Eh, he'd wing it. All the more complicated stuff, he just kind of… ignored until it went away. It had always worked well for him.

Okay, it worked well at first and then it sometimes exploded. Sometimes it was better to get things over with. Like with Fiyori. He'd been forced to confront her and it'd gone okay. Better than hiding from her.

But you didn't just 'get over' Survival of the Fittest.

The point was he had no plan. He just ran along. He didn't find Irene. She was gone before he got anywhere beyond the cove. He thought about returning to Jeremy, but didn't. That would involve thinking more about his situation.

And whenever he considered what he should do next, his mind just… hit a block. It just went 'no, I'm not doing this.'

So he ran, and when he got tired he walked. And then he came across the asylum.

Now, really. How often did one see an abandoned asylum? If this had been any other situation, Danny would have been hyped to explore it. Lobotomy shit? That's cool. Creepy, but cool to look at.

But not so fun once he was in there. Each door could hide some crazed person with a gun. Danny still carried the portable CD player underneath his arm. Walking down what seemed like hallways of doors upon doors, sometimes with creepy shit behind them. Sometimes he heard noises within. He thought maybe he heard voices a couple of times. At least once, he thought he heard a crash and someone swearing. But he didn't want to go look. At the same time he didn't want to be alone.

He already wanted to leave the asylum, but he'd forgotten the way out. It all just looked the same to him. He felt too closed in and too open at the same time. All it would take is someone walking down one of these hallways. If they had a shotgun like Irene they wouldn't even really have to aim.

Nope. Nope. Not good.

Danny's breathing came to a halt while contemplating it. But again, his brain just went 'no' and shoved these considerations away. Still there. Just… still. Not enough to think of a solution to them. He just… he just…

The next door was one into a storage closet, and… he didn't know what he was thinking. That he could lock everyone out and just… wait the game out in a closet?

Stupid. But fuck it.

Danny pulled open the door, saw enough of a glimpse of the dark room inside to tell that it was, at least, too big for just a plain closet. Then he shut the door, throwing the room into darkness again, and pressed his forehead against the door.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, smacking his head lightly against the door as if the resulting clunk would somehow inspire him with a genius plan that would fix everything.
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Mr. Danya
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((GMing approved)

Sandy’s head shot up when he heard Danny walk into the room. Shit.

Immediately he was on his feet, tensed against the wall and ready to flee. He couldn’t see the entrance from where he had been trying to calm down, so he had nothing to go on as far as who his company could’ve been. What he did know was that that really didn’t matter, because he still wasn’t at all ready to face any company period.

He picked up his bag and quietly moved around the shelves, making sure to keep one between him and where he remembered the entrance being. It didn’t take him long to get over there, and from behind the cover he could make out the silhouette with his head pressed against the door. Fortunately, his time in the darkness had given him an opportunity for his eyes to adjust, and when Danny turned around and started pacing down the room, Sandy recognised him pretty quickly.

He knew Danny from art class, but not much more beyond that. Danny’s art was ok, but not great, and his reputation around school did precede him. A social creature without a care in the world, one of many amongst Sandy’s peers.

That was not enough about Danny for Sandy to feel safe at all.

He could see the door was unobstructed from here, so it was possible that he could just slip out and find somewhere else to hide, but what would that solve? More people would show up, probably, and then he’d just have to keep moving. He had been here first; it should’ve been his place to hide. Danny should leave if he was told to.

Shit, he just wanted to be alone again.

He reached his hand into his bag, pulling out the bottle that he’d found when he was looking for his iPod. The rag stuffed in the neck mixed with volatile chemicals identified it as a Molotov cocktail, but Sandy didn’t know that. He knew it was heavy, and that it was better than having nothing. After all, this was a grand scheme where the terrorists wanted him dead, and his classmates were going to be the agents who did it.

The thought made him flinch.

Stepping out from behind the shelf, he managed to intercede himself between the door and Danny, though not intentionally. He gripped the bottle with one hand, and shot his guest an unwelcoming look.

“What do you want, Danny?”
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Danny was not great at paying attention to his surroundings. He was too busy squinting at said shelves themselves. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but… well, a storeroom had to have something good in it, right?

He was crouching slightly to look at a box nearby which had what looked like old papers inside when Sandy spoke.

At which point, Danny let out a high-pitched yelp and spun around while lifting the CD player so he was holding it above his head. He saw Sandy. Sandy was an alright guy. Really good at art. Sometimes in class Danny would see his art and be like 'damn, look at the fucking shading on that tree, that's baller.'

But instead, Danny mostly zoned in on the bottle in Sandy's hand. For a second, Danny thought Sandy had been assigned wine. Then he noticed the rag sticking out of the top.

At which point he took the calm, sensible route. He flung the CD player at Sandy and retreated deeper into the storeroom.
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Sandy’s stern look faltered a bit when Danny screamed like a little girl, replaced with surprise. He hadn’t been expecting such a shrill response from someone with Danny’s look, but it was enough to distract him from his irritation, if only momentarily.

A brief but tense moment sat between them as Sandy waited for Danny’s response. He had not expected it to be a CD player to the face.

It was fortunate that Sandy had been staring straight at Danny; he may not have played any sports or anything like that, but even he could manage a clumsy dodge when someone threw something straight at him, the portable player smashing into the door behind him. He looked back at where it had hit, long enough for Danny to duck out of his sight.

“What the hell, Danny?!” Sandy yelled at the darkness, gripping the neck of the bottle in anger. He was just trying to calm down and be left alone and process the unreal situation that was going on, and Danny wasn’t even going to so much as give him a hello before he started throwing things at him?

He had no idea what to make of the situation, but he had enough problems without just letting Danny try to nail him with a blunt object then leave without a word. He stepped away from the door, looking for signs of his assailant as his jaw clenched in a tight vice.

“Get out here Danny, you prick!”
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Oh god, why had he done that?!

Well, if he wasn't going to talk calmly with Sandy when Sandy was being relatively chill—albeit, chill while holding a fucking molotov, and seriously why did everyone have an actual weapon but him? He wasn't going to engage in a chill conversation now that Sandy was legit pissed at him.

“I'm not getting out there! You get out there!” Danny yelled, still shuffling away.

He picked up a box from a nearby shelf, just in case Sandy stuck his head around the corner or something. But something inside made a skittering noise, so he immediately dropped it with a resounding crash.

“Aagh, what the fuck?”

Maybe Sandy wasn't blocking the door any more. Danny thought he'd heard him move. Maybe Danny could make a run for it. He started shuffling along the shelves towards the door, not really registering that stealth was kind of pointless after throwing boxes and yelling.
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Audrey was pretty well-known around the household as a vibrant dreamer. So, when terrorists kidnapped her entire class and killed her teachers, she figured she must have been in an extremely detailed nightmare. When she was lulled back to sleep by the gas, Audrey managed to maintain that illusion - at least until she woke up again. With a loud, loud ringing in her ears. And the sounds of frantic teenagers.

Her eyes popped open about as quickly as they could. She still felt groggy and there was a pain in the back of her head that she assumed must have been from the toxins used to knock her out. She groaned lightly, trying to assess her situation. Which was difficult (or easy, depending on your definition) considering the two inhabitants present with her. Her head whipped around, noting that her body was placed against a wall in the corner, invisible to anyone who wasn't paying too much attention. Either the terrorists were really lazy and just dropped her wherever, or she'd tossed and turned in her sleep - which she would have wont to do. At the moment, though, Audrey knew there were two choices she could make here: stay quiet and let the altercation sort itself, or step in and try to create some sort order. From what she'd observed thus far, it didn't seem like these two boys were actually capable of harming each other - what with the squeaking and light cursing being thrown around.

Audrey muttered some arcane expletive under her breath. She was cursed with pretenses of false heroics.

G025_AUDREY_REYES - START

Her eyes were drawn to the duffel bag next to her which, upon closer examination, beheld her name and "number." Blegh. Audrey decided she didn't like this Orwellian death game one bit. Shifting into a sitting position, she rifled through it. Supplies and a first aid kit and... nunchucks? Great. "Compartmentalize," Audrey whispered to herself. "Compartmentalize, compartmentalize, compartmentalize..." Audrey stood up, nunchucks in hand. Goddammit, what was she doing? She was supposed to see Mad Max in a few days, not stuck here of all places.

"Hey!" She waved the nunchucks in front of her, pretending like she had any idea how to use them. "I swear to God, you two better stop making noise or people who actually want to hurt other people are going to be here very fast!" She stepped forward. "Come on, you two. Calm the hell down! Is that you, Sandy? You're the kid from the art club, right? Seriously, call a truce or something! Peace and love, that's what we artists do, right?"

Of course, Audrey had no idea if she would have any effect on them - or whether or not she would get shot or grenaded at any moment - but she was compartmentalizing, compartmentalizing, compartmentalizing. She needed to exert that can-do attitude that had been ever so useful at the theater. Or she would die - at which point she hoped she'd made enough peace with God that he'd be totally chill with her going to heaven.
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Mr. Danya
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Danny’s childish retorts and clumsy crashing into shelves would have been funny if it wasn’t so goddamn unwelcome. Sandy was getting closer to the trespasser, he could tell by the way his hair was standing on the back of his neck. It was a game of cat and mouse in a room full of rats, and when he caught Danny he’d really make him get out.

It was fortunate enough for him that Audrey intervened when she did.

Danny wasn’t the only one who could scream like a little girl when someone showed up out of nowhere. The third voice piercing through the silence took Sandy completely off guard, sending him tripping backwards into a shelf. It didn’t tip over, fortunately enough for him, but it still took his attention away from Danny for long enough.

“Where did you come from?!”

The new arrival was a stranger to him: he couldn’t place Audrey’s voice and he didn’t tend to pay much attention to students outside of his clubs or classes (and even then, most of the students there didn’t get that much more attention). Danny was a familiar enough face, and he wasn’t welcome, so what chance did this stranger have?

“Whatever; don’t tell me to calm down.” With the surprise now worn off, he went back to speaking in a short, terse tone. “I just want to be alone right now and think, alright? Why the hell can’t you and Danny respect that? Why’s Danny got to throw things at my head, and where do you get off telling me what to do?”
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And suddenly there was another voice. A girl. Not one that Danny recognised, at least not by her voice. To whatever remained of Danny's credit, this time he didn't yell or scream. Apparently an artist, judging by what she was saying to Sandy.

Danny kept hidden behind his shelf, waiting to see if Sandy would just chill the fuck out. Waited until Sandy was done ranting about—

“Dude, that's all you wanted?!” Danny yelled afterwards. “Just say 'leave me alone' next time, what the fuck? You blocked the door while holding a weapon, what the hell was I supposed to think?”

Danny shuffled to the end of the row of shelves and stuck his head out warily, trying to look for both Sandy and the stranger. At least that meant Sandy probably wasn't trying to kill him. Just being kind of a dickweed.

“Look, Sand, I panicked, jeez. I'll call a truce if you will. Mystery Girl's got that shit right—oh, you have nunchucks?!”

Danny had now edged far enough from the shelves to see a glimpse of waving nunchucks, although it was still hard to make out whoever was holding them.

Nunchucks were pretty cool. Top five weapons, though really only in the hands of someone who could do all the fancy shit with them. Danny's fingers were itchy now. Damn, he wanted those nunchucks. Not for long, just to play around with for a minute. Priorities.
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Audrey was right - these two were total idiots and completely incapable of doing harm to anybody even if they tried. From what she could tell, one was a guy whose total life experience could be summed up with a canvas and a brush, and the other guy... well, from the clanking and cowering noises coming from other there, he probably didn't have that good of a shot of mounting an offensive. She stepped forward, bumping into something with her foot and causing a bit of a noise and almost tripping her. She cursed at herself silently, suddenly getting a bit sweaty on the back of her neck.

Sandy was screaming something about why they couldn't just leave him alone, which Audrey would have been all for except that Danny seemed to have thrown some stuff at his head. Which Danny then followed up by pointing out Sandy's hypocrisy from earlier. All in all, the paranoia levels were through the roof in this particular room. Audrey knew that she'd have to be the one to defuse the situation, a process which she was glad she'd already managed to start. Compartmentalize.

Audrey approached Danny. "Hey, man..." she said slowly, holding up the nunchucks. "I have no godly idea how to use these things." She waved them in front of her for effect; they were a lot heavier than they looked when Michaelangelo was using them; then again, she wasn't a pizza-eating mutant turtle so maybe he had the edge over her in this department. "But I'm guessing that none of us got anything particularly useful, especially for this situation or someone would have died by now."

"Guys, let's not pretend that any of us is a credible threat right now, alright?" Audrey got close enough to Danny to hold out a hand to shake. She turned to where Sandy's voice was coming from. "Seriously, dude, it's all cool." Actually, it wasn't if Audrey's sweat levels were any indication of the room's heat. "But we're not gonna hurt you! Promise! We can even, like, I dunno form an alliance or something."

She cleared her throat. "I'm Audrey, by the way. Audrey Reyes. I do theater stuff behind the scenes. You've probably seen me around the school; I'm the one that's always lugging around that big camera. Had a big project to go make a movie and all that?" She was babbling. Stop it, Audrey. Stop it. "Anyway, uh, let's just all chill and, you know, plan how to not die for a few more days. You're a nice guy, right, Sandy? At least, I think you are from what I've seen in art club. So, truce?" Babble, babble, babble. Audrey had half the mind to just knock Danny out with the nunchucks and bolt from this place as fast as possible, but something told her that that would just end in tragedy.
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He had ran.

((Alvaro Vacanti, continued from This Isn’t My Home, It’s Where I’m Locked Away))

He didn’t know for how long. He didn’t know how far. All he knew was that he had to run because Min-Jae was right behind him and he was bigger and stronger and more angry than ever. He couldn’t fight, as his opponent was bigger and better armed than him, so he had to run. And he did. Through the building across the floor, as far as his legs could possibly take him. If he had ran past anyone, he didn’t notice, and even if he saw something that vaguely reminded him of the shape of a person he didn’t dare to look back and check again. He didn’t know where Min-Jae was, but he knew that he was somewhere behind him and he didn’t want his surprise to make him fall or slow down or anything that allowed him to catch up. No. He had to keep running. Keep running or else Min-Jae would catch up to him and he didn’t know what would happen then and he didn’t want to know.

So he kept running. Down the hallways. His heart was pumping. His skin was sore. It reached to his muscles and to his bones and to his throat and he wanted to stop but he couldn’t. The breaths were short, shallow. Nothing reached his lungs. He needed to breathe but to breathe he needed to stop and if he stopped Min-Jae was right behind him and he would catch up and-

He needed.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

He stopped, the last remnants of momentum in his body dissipating as he fell to his knees.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He needed to breathe and he had stopped to do it but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t. The breaths weren’t reaching. They were going into his mouth and down his throat but they were staying there and they weren’t going further and the bruises and batters were getting worse, he could still feel them and they hurt and he didn’t know what to do about them and oh god how had he gotten these how why did this have to happen to him and how had he manage to mess this up so bad and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t breathe and he needed to-

A sharp volley of coughs came from outside the storage room.
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Mr. Danya
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Sandy could only stand there, looking at Audrey with stunned disbelief. It took him a moment, but he finally conceived the concise response to her whole peace-making spiel.

“I do not give a shit about any of that.”

Danny at least had the advantage of being in the same class as him, but he still couldn’t remember Audrey even a little, and here she was trying to peddle some bleeding heart idealism at him? Tell him that he wasn’t in danger, that she thought he was a nice guy, that him, her and Danny could team up and take on the whole world together?

“Why is this so hard to understand? I don’t want company, I don’t want to hang out with you or Danny or anyone else right now, and I don’t care if you think you’re going to hurt me or not.”

And why should he? Audrey was way smaller than him, and he knew that neither she nor Danny were well armed. Who was to say that he couldn’t take that bottle and smash their faces in with it if he had the mind to? Yeah, it was a blunt response, but they had long overstayed their welcomes and he did not care to think nice things towards people who just insisted on ignoring everything he was saying.

“Fuck your truce. Fuck you.”

He turned to head towards the door. He wanted them to leave, more than anything at all right now, but he didn’t have the energy to keep fighting for the room. His head was starting to buzz with anger and stress, and he knew a headache was coming on if he didn’t find somewhere else to calm down. All he wanted was some peace and quiet.

As his hand gripped the handle to the door, he heard Alvaro’s hacking fit from outside. “For fuck’s sake, what now?” he thought to himself, before opening the door and finding out.
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Danny couldn't help but feel a little bit offended at 'not a credible threat.' He was a footballer, for fuck's sake, he was totally a credible threat. Not that he wanted to murder anyone—fuck, he didn't even want to think about that—but… come on, he was totally credible.

Even so, he slowly reached out and likely shook Audrey's hand.

“Uh. Danny Brooks? Better-looking twin of Jacob Brooks?”

Long-running joke that probably wasn't funny any more, used whenever he met someone that might know Jacob and didn't know him (which wasn't much, Jacob wasn't the social type.) But it clicked suddenly that Jacob had been going on the other science trip. He wasn't here. Danny felt the first bit of relief he'd felt since he woke up. God, he could not have dealt with that.

Audrey was babbling about stuff she'd done and about alliances and stuff. Danny wasn't sure if he wanted in on that. Sandy had already made him nearly shit himself, and there was nowhere he could get new pants here if it happened for real. And Audrey… well, he didn't know Audrey. If it'd been one of his friends, he'd be all signed on. But… well, he wasn't—

And Sandy was swearing at them and leaving, okay.

“Yep. The nicest of guys,” Danny said in a fake cheery tone.

And then coughing. And before Danny could even think about hiding or the fact that his weapon was near the door and out of his hands—shitty weapon it was, but it was his only weapon—Sandy had opened the door.

“...Oh, hey, it's, uh...” Danny paused for a moment. For some reason, he couldn't remember the guy's first name. “It's Vacanti. The guy from Vacanti's.” He didn't know if that made the guy trustworthy or not but it was information that Danny associated with good things.

Mostly with food. Damn, he could go for some nice food.
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Audrey cringed. She started to get that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she always got whenever she tripped and fell on her metaphorical head; her head in this analogy being her, at the moment, seemingly inept social skills. Sandy did not want to be bothered which, in this life-or-death situation, seemed like a totally reasonable response actually. Her palms started to get sweaty and she could feel the insecurity just welling up inside of her. She was thankful that Danny was being a lot more amicable about the whole thing.

"Better-looking twin, eh? I can see that." Audrey tried to offer her best smile to try and defuse the whole thing. Although, she thought after a moment, flirting might not be the best way to go about it. He was pretty good looking; not totally handsome, but she'd go for it if she were more confident.

After an awkward second, Audrey looked at Sandy as he tried to depart. She wanted allies in this whole affair, she really did. But not someone as volatile as Sandy. "Yeah, okay," she said. "Good luck out there and everything." She mumbled that last one, suddenly not feeling all too hot about her chances out here.

There was hacking fit outside. "Oh, great," she muttered. "What now?" Sandy seemed to have the same idea. Danny went to go investigate immediately, something that Audrey didn't think was the rightest thing to do in that moment. She reached out to try and stop Danny from opening up the door but, well, by the time her hand had latched onto his arm, he'd already swung open the door. Audrey cringed yet again, suddenly holding onto the nunchuks a bit more tightly. Apparently, the kid outside was an eponymous Vacanti from that restaurant Vacanti's. Which was obvious enough given that it was written on his shirt.

"Oh, hey," Audrey spurted out. "I know you - right? Haven't I seen you at the chess club? You're, uh-" Audrey wracked her brain. She hated it when she forgot things. Compartmentalize. Alvaro! "Alvaro!" She snapped her fingers in triumph. "Yeah, uh, you're the, the-" Uh. "-soccer guy with the, and the - restaurant. Vacanti's. I saw you there a couple times. I think." She quieted down, taking a few steps back. Alvaro was always a nice guy from what she could remember.

"Yeah, so... need any cough drops or something? I think I still have some in my jacket somewhere..." She dug through her pockets and pulled out a little pillbox full of cough drops. Audrey always kept a couple in case her asthma started acting up. "I always keep a couple in case my asthma starts acting up," she explained.
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The door opened.

More people.

Oh god.

The voices and the replies blurred in his head initially as he stared through the doorway to the storage room. People; the first he had met since Min-Jae. Faces, all staring at him because of course he had to be so loud as to accidently make himself the center of attention (they were probably judging him for that, he couldn’t see their eyes but he knew that they were, it was just something he had learned to accept at this point). Faces that he recognised, if only slightly. Sandy Bricks, photographer. Danny Brooks, footballer. Audrey Reyes, someone that he couldn’t think up anything for. They weren’t faces that he personally knew but they were ones he knew the names of, at the very least. And they were looking at him. At his face, probably. They could see the bruises and the cuts and they were probably wondering what happened to him.

Wait, no, no, what did they think about that? Could they see his bruises? Did they know where they came from? He knew that they didn’t because Min-Jae was somewhere behind him and he was the only other one there but he didn’t know, he just knew that they knew, if that made sense. They knew that he had somehow managed to get those injuries from someone else and that that had to mean a fight but wait did they know Alvaro had started it? Wait, no, he did, didn’t he. His glasses were broken and his face was messed up and it was all his fault. Wait, no, focus Alvaro. There were people in front of him. They knew that he was probably in a fight and he knew that he was done now. They weren’t friends of his, they were just going to leave him out because why would they choose to put him in? He was him, and he was injured. That was reason enough.

He blanked out, for what seemed like a second. Focusing on the coughing and in his mind and on how this was a mistake.

He came back in again. The girl had pulled something out of her pockets. Cough drops, for him, apparently.

For him.

For him.

“I-”

Wait, this had to mean something. The girl - Audrey - was willing to give them to him despite his being bruised and his being in a fight. That had to mean something. Friendliness? Friendship? He wasn’t sure. But she was being incredibly nice to him, maybe he should accept it, or something. He wasn’t sure.

“Thank you,” he said, words coming slightly stilted out of his mouth. He began to push himself up, trying to get his body against a wall. He didn’t really think that just laying down there would be the best idea. He sat down, against a wall just outside the room.

The bruises and the bashes on his face and chest could be seen now, although he didn’t really think about that.
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