Foolish human, you cannot "surprise" or "impress" an autistic child with a fact about their special interest, no matter how obscure you believe it is.
They already know your "fun" fact in-depth and are in the process of giving you a two hour lecture on this topic at a Master's level. It is over, you have failed to be impressive, resign yourself to folly and yield to the expert.
I’m still a bleeding mess by the time the train rolls forward, the movement nudging my feet to the side. I keep my eyes fixed on em, my shoes blood coated and all, and I hold in a sigh. S’been awhile since the knots in my stomach were this overwhelming. They kinda make it hard to swallow, much less smile.
But I do anyway, because as I tune back into reality, I find our little escort is thoroughly scolding a man well into his fifties for not patching me up faster. She holds a clipboard in those tiny hands of hers. Looks like she’s about to hit the poor guy with it. And that alone makes the corners of my mouth turn up.
“Sorry, Miss Eskirt, but the boy’s blood has a little trouble… clotting.”
Not sure what that means, but if I heard the man correctly…
“I expect it to be fixed soon, then,” the escort starts, brushing silvery hair over one shoulder. “The bruising too. I want it gone. Yule is one of my first tributes and I’ll not have him be paraded about the Capitol looking like he’s been in a bar fight.”
She mutters from there, grumbling and flipping through pages and I hear something about how this is not going according to plan. I guess it’s not tradition for your tribute to be beaten so badly that you hafta put him in the nursing room as soon as they get on the train. Not a usual practice, I suppose.
Eskirt’s pink cheeked underneath all that creamy make up, I can tell. S’how Noor gets when mad, too. I mentally wince at the thought.
“Yes, of course, Miss Eskirt,” doc says again, through gritted teeth, bringing my attention back to what I was originally thinking.
Oh God. Oh my God. So I did hear him right. Our district escort’s got the last name Eskirt.
I just hafta let out a half hearted laugh at that, startling both of them into looking up at me. Eskirt’s wide eyes go wider, probably confused and unsure of why I’m laughing while the stuff supposed to be inside my veins keeps leaking out. S’actually making my head a bit dizzy, to be honest. Small girl begins to say something, something about how I’ll be alright soon, something Hunger Games related. But an angry shout from out the metal door silences us both.
“Get off’a me ya idiot-- just let me see ‘im!”
Without a Pause I’m up off the sterile table and poking my head out into the hallway, looking one way and finding nothing, looking the other way and finding Noor.
She’s about to punch the peacekeeper, and I know it. He’s got his hand on her and she’s struggling away and I can see her fingers curling. Guess she’s not supposed to see me after the beating-the-living-shit-out-of-him stunt. But before she can get into any trouble she catches my eye and the world goes still.
