Davis shook his head and breathed out an âOhâ toward Neeley, sounding more like a parent about to chastise their child. âSome of us are just not as good at turning those thoughts off as you guys.â He smiled, standing up to get in front of his companion. With a hand on his hip, he shrugged the whole ordeal off. âItâs okay,â he said, delivering it as if he was the real decision maker here. He had pushed his hands out as if to wave the whole thing out of existence.  âhe brought it on himself.âÂ
He shook his head at Church. âHe has mean things to say to everyone, even the Africans!â He gestured off toward the village, lowering his voice slightly. âAnd letâs face it, thatâs just racist.â He couldnât help the rhythmic motion his body made, so he tred to speak over his body language. âHe practically picks a fight with everyone, but he ainât got the b-â Davis stopped himself, putting a hand up to his mouth. After a prolonged moment, he removed it enough to squeak out a small âOopsie, turn it off.â and gently made the motion to do so.
He laughed, waving it off again. âAnyway, McKinley is a reasonable man. A man of justice. Iâm sure he understands.â
âWhy--why donât you understand!?â Thomas had covered his face as soon as his companion had let him, taking one grand step away from him. He was on the verge of being hysterical, his breaths coming quick and heavy. He had muttered their phrase about twenty before he became silent. He shook his head and spoke, muffling his voice with his hands. âThis didnât happen by chance! It never does! This is what they /want/!â it was a moment longer before he finally removed his hands, his face betraying all his frustration and tears.
âThis didnât happen by chance. Weâre not HERE by chance!â He pointed roughly down toward the ground, inhaling a sharp breath of air before letting his emotions swallow him. He sunk to the floor, his blubbering slow and painful. He muttered a few things in between his breaths, slowly. Thngs likem âI hate thisâ, âWe were all set upâ and âI canât do thisâ. He covered his face again, feeling guilt in putting his companion in this position.
Schrader was amazed at how well Michaels had listened to him in getting him sat on the toilet, and staying still while he cleaned his cuts. He still had the cloth to his nose, and judging by how wet it was, he was sure his nose was broken. He sighed, shaking his head and not making eye contact. This was bullshit (forgive me heavenly father), for someone to act like this against someone who KNEW what they were talking about was just awful.
After Schrader had bandaged the first cut, Michaels spokeup, finally meeting his eye. âWhere is Elder Zelder?â Schrader pursed his lips, flattening his fingers out over the small bandage he had just applied. âIâll bring you to him when weâre all finished, alright?â an awkward laugh followed, and a few things bothered Michaels. Enough to make him furrow his brow, and lower his cloth. But his friend was quick to laugh again, and lift his hands up. âH-hey man, that look doesnât suit you. Iâll fix you, I promise.â There was a hand on his cheek, and Michaels closed his eyes. This wasnât a feeling he was used to.Â
One hand on his cheek, the other on the back of his head, He was gently forced to look down,, and his cloth removed. Michaels heard Schrader say something as his hand moved to his nose, and he was only sure that he had said something along the lines of âthis will hurtâ, only after the fact. He had cried out, but he was muffled by Schraderâs hand.Â
There was a lot of blood, Schrader noted in his head after he had repositioned Michaelsâ nose. It still bled, but at least it wasnât pouring now. He pressed the cloth back up to his face, and Michaels seemed to twitch, like he had been surprised, They met eyes again, and the broken one furrowed his brow again. âWhere is-â He was cut off, watching Schrader laugh. It was silent, but he looked like he had just heard the best joke ever. Michaels wasnât exactly amused.
It was probably ten minutes total before Schrader was able to fully remove the cloth, clean him up, bandage his small cuts, and deposit him into his room. Schrader tried to make a quick goodbye, sure that his idol hated him now, even when he tried to grab him as he left. Schrader didnât look back. Michaels felt disappointment for the third since getting to Uganda.
He turned to look in his room, his eyes laying on his companion. âWe have a lot of work to do, Elder.â His voice was small, but he wasnât surprised. The devil had left him weak. The devil had left him with negative feelings, and he found himself wanting to retire early.Â
Schrader made cautious steps toward their leader and his companion, only speaking up when he was sure he could, though he still sounded a bit scared. âHey, um. Itâd be awfully bad I think, if we didnât eat dinner tonight. Iâll uh,â He huffed awkwardly, shifting in place and looking toward the kitchen. âclean the rest of the mess, and Iâm sure Neeley will help make something.â There was an uncomfortable silence before he turned, stepping away and muttering âIt probably wonât be any good.â before he was practically ignoring the Elders behind him and beginning his âsearchâ  for his own companion.