Leon's fingers, slick with sweat, fumbled to unpause the Requiem. He needed the thunder, not her venom.
"Ignoring me?" Vera said, her voice echoing in a sweet, poisoned dart. "No wonder everyone neglected you!"
Leon tapped the screen. The datapad showed his seventh sprint time: three minutes, forty-eight seconds. He had maybe ten minutes left to log enough runs.
Sudden wind blew between them, raising two small green leaves.
He finally looked at her.
Vera stood like a portrait of curated pity. "I heard about your… condition."
She hugged herself, lips in a soft pout. "Waking up in a stranger's room must be so disorienting. Especially for someone from Dust Hollow."
Leon said nothing. He tilted and picked up the hoodie.
"I'm talking to you, Leon." Her tone sharpened.
"I heard you," Leon said, his voice flat, devoid of the anger she was fishing for.
He pulled the hoodie on, the damp fabric chilling his skin. "I'm busy."
