@wristapled asked; "Woah what the fuck-- what's your deal man?"
The temptation to answer truthfully roiled with an astonishing about of force within Miguel. It pressed against barriers that had been assembled rapidly, without any considerations paid towards longevity, threatening to burst through with every passing moment. How much longer could he keep quiet? To march on with his well-crafted front of wellness firmly in place, until the day that he couldn't. Thanks to the virus running rampant in his system, his demise was guaranteed to be brutal -- fitting, then, that he hadn't intended to survive the weekend that followed his infection, let alone the year that had elapsed since.
Was this his chance to get the word out? Divulge to a complete stranger, met entirely at random, what sensitive Alchemax secrets he was privy to? Whilst he could still think rationally? On this, the geneticist wasn't certain, an indecisive feeling that saw the corners of his mouth turn downwards, less inclined than ever before to share an unbridled account of the contemplations currently making the rounds inside his head.
"Easy, I didn't mean to startle you." Leading an attempt to calm rattled nerves, a sweep of sun-kissed arm accompanies the gesture, shuffling closer by the second. Wrapped in what appeared to be an old blanket, thrown haphazardly around a tall frame, its faded hues and moth-eaten holes hinted that the brown-haired male had acquired the garment quite recently, pilfered out of need. "Not gonna hurt you, either." Sensing a need to make that clear, as he drew closer, it could be observed that he moved with a limping gait, coupled with a notable rounding of shoulders that, together with the blanket, suggested he had either fallen on hard times (Not completely untrue). Or, had been the cause of them, for another unfortunate soul.
The blood that could be seen streaking the sides of his mouth certainly encouraged terrible speculation, regardless.
"I'm... I'm not sure where I am right now."
