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<span class="mu-r">“I don’t suppose there’s anything else I can do to make you feel better, is there?”</span> you asked, still not sure if you should get closer to her.
Gwen shook her head and rubbed at her arms. <span class="mu-g">“More than you’ve done already? Doubtful.”</span> she said, not entirely able to meet your gaze. <span class="mu-g">“Just being able to feel like I’m in control of my decisions is already more than I could’ve expected.”</span>
<span class="mu-r">“I hear they’re making good progress on those antipsychotics. Do you think you can hold out until then?”</span> you said.
She shrugged marginally, still rubbing at her arms self-consciously. <span class="mu-g">“Do I have a choice? I can’t afford to lose my shit and fall apart like I have been.”</span> she said, sounding increasingly frustrated with the situation. <span class="mu-g">“I’ll live. And that fucking drug had better work.”</span>
You nodded and thought to change the subject to something more lighthearted. But the longer you spoke, the more Gwen seemed to retreat into herself. You took the hint, wished her luck, and made yourself scarce.
When you’d left her cell, Hill showed you an expression of genuine surprise.
<span class="mu-b">“I must admit, I didn’t expect that to work nearly as well as it did. I suspect that Dr. Kafka will be equally as flummoxed, if not more so when she hears the news.”</span> she proclaimed.
<span class="mu-r">“She really needs that drug, Hill.”</span> you said, not trying to hide the desperation in your voice.
Hill gave you a serious look and then nodded. <span class="mu-b">“We’re doing everything we can to get her the help that she needs.”</span> she said in a voice far more sincere than you would’ve expected.
You nodded in return, and she quickly led you out of the room. Since she wasn’t slapping the cuffs on you again, you assumed that she was taking an alternative route to bring you to a shuttle bay. That assumption was quickly squashed as she led you deeper and deeper into the facility.
<span class="mu-r">“Where are we going?”</span> you asked.
<span class="mu-b">“You said you were interested in a job. I’m holding you to that.”</span> she replied, without looking back. Neither of you said another word after that.
—----
Several minutes later, Hill brought you into a cramped room that you could only assume was a break room at some point in time. It was noticeably devoid of life. Except…there was someone else in here. You were sure of it.
<span class="mu-b">“On the ground.”</span> Hill demanded.
You frowned in confusion, but then you felt a slight breeze brush up against the back of your neck. You whirled and prepared yourself for an ambush…only to find a little boy floating down gently, his hands folded behind his head.
He was dressed in torn scraps of cloth and leather, and his shoulder length brown hair was tied into a ponytail. He was about the same height as Cindy, maybe a bit taller. You almost took him for a street urchin…until you saw the considerably sharp dagger and shortsword strapped to his belt. And were those throwing knives tucked into his shirt?
(Cont.)
