Welcome to Gaia! ::

There was only one advantage to this entire city-wide epidemic. If Yvette wanted to go to the hospital to visit someone, she wouldn't be rushed in the slightest. Sure, the hospital had been crowded, especially with visitors, but the small girl could time things more suiting to her schedule.

Much like her first visit to the hospital in her mommy's place, she had gathered some wildflowers and wrapped them in tinfoil about the base. However, this time around she had twice the amount and two separated bundles at the bases. Unfortunately, the girl wasn't visiting just one person in the hospital. She had another friend she planned to visit, possibly even a third if she could sort things out (though that visit was just visiting a friend for a friend).

Since Mr. Darrow was now unconscious, the girl seemed to have this preconceived notion that his room would be absolutely silent. It wasn't going to be like the first time she visited where he was playing that funny little game with the dragon on it. Yet, as her feet tapped upon the tile with each step closer, she could hear very familiar sounds echoing into the hallway. It was one thing to have visitors, but it was another thing to have someone in your room playing a video game.

Absolutely confused by this turn of events, the girl shyly peered into the room around the entrance. There was a boy about the same age as her sitting in a chair. She had never seen him before, but in reality, there were lots of people in Destiny City she still needed to meet.

In her tiny, meek voice, she asked "Um... excuse me... am I interrupting something? I was hoping to drop something off for Mr. Darrow, b-but... I can come back at another time." As if her eyes had suddenly gotten heavy, the purple orbs drooped down towards the floor, occasionally peeking up towards the foreign boy.

The girl very notably winced when she heard the sound of the controller tossed onto the bed. She remained frozen in place, and literally took all of this verbal teasing (if it could be called something so gentle) with her eyes glued to the ground. Eventually, she got the idea of how close he was when a pair of shoes managed to get into her line of vision.

Her face was already extremely red by the time she finally managed to stutter out some sort of response. "I-i-i'm s-s-sorry... I c-can come b-by l-later to d-drop off my M-mommy's fl-flowers..." Despite saying she'd be leaving, she seemed absolutely stuck in place, as if too afraid to move. She certainly hoped to God above she wasn't trembling, but apparently he wasn't paying attention, for she was, in fact, trembling very lightly. There was a faint sound of the foil crinkling under her fingers, as if she was squeezing onto it nervously. At least wildflowers didn't have thorns. If she had been doing this with roses in the little bundle, she probably would have poked herself something fierce.

With a small squeaking "Eep!" the girl scrambled into the room. It wasn't her first time in the room, this much was obvious, for the dark-haired young adult immediately went for the proper shelf where the vase was sitting. The flowers which she had brought the previous time looked absolutely miserable. Mr. Darrow had been unconscious, so he couldn't tend to it, and it wasn't exactly the hospital staff's job to take care of such trivial things. The hospital had to worry about finding places for patients, not emptying out vases.

Carefully, she set down the two separate bundles, one next to the other and began to tend to the vase. Her fingers worked delicately, removing old wilted flowers and replacing them with cheerier, more lively looking blossoms. Yet, as she worked, it was rather obvious she was still uncomfortable. She hadn't said a word, and the silence only seemed to grow more tense as she continued to work. Flower arranging definitely wasn't her specialty, but somehow, with the way she arranged the varying bright colored flowers, it seemed to work rather nicely. Sure, the petals seemed a little rattled from her work, but Yvette could tell you she was far from perfect.

When she was finished, half of the flowers were in the vase. With a gentle touch under a few petals in an effort to "perk up" the flowers, she cautiously asked "Um... how do they look?" She bit onto her lip nervously, already expecting harsh criticism from the unnamed boy.

Even though she had mentally prepped herself for his words, there was still something that seemed to sting her about when he actually gave his assessment. The flowers were meant to be a gift, something to brighten Mr. Darrow's day, even if he was unconscious and unaware of her presence. Yet the way this boy spoke, it sounded like she was doing something really mean.

She might have stayed absolutely silent if it wasn't for one thing this boy said. Sure, he could insult her flowers, but there was one thing she did not like was his pessimistic perspective. "M-mister Darrow will wake up." Even with her slight stutter, she still sounded absolutely certain. She didn't explain that it was her Mommy that had been so certain that everyone would wake up. Her Mommy was an optimist.

It would have been rather odd to remain lingering around with this other boy around, so the dark-haired girl began to make her way towards the door when the boy began to talk to her again. She turned to face him where he decided to sit down and managed to catch that smile on his lips. It wasn't a nice smile. Yvette knew nice smiles and this one wasn't.

"Mr. Darrow is the city librarian and my Mommy's friend. Mommy can't visit Mr. Darrow because of work, so I was dropping off the flowers for her." Her tone was absolutely honest.

At first, she didn't really catch the actual meaning to the boy's tone. Her purple eyes blinked one, two, three times. "Of course I like Mr. Darrow. He's really nice to me and my family." Her tone was absolutely innocent as she admitted such.

"He'll wake up!" Her voice might have been quiet, but it was stubbornly convinced that Mommy was right. His arguments easily spun a web of doubts up in her brain, and already, they were starting to take a toll, but she still firmly latched onto that belief that everything would be okay.

Everything had to be okay. Right?

It really wasn't that hard to be taller than Yvette. It really wasn't. Stuck at 5'2" at the age of 18 years, she was adjusted to people looming over her. It didn't make it any less intimidating, but sometimes it did help for her to close her eyes and remember that Daddy was usually taller than any of them. Since this boy was trying to be such a bully, she closed her eyes, pinching them shut tightly and remembering her Daddy's face. The moment she saw Daddy's face within her mind's eye, she opened up her eyes again, and this boy's height was no longer very tall at all. Her Daddy had at least half a foot over this boy.

However, this boy still seemed so dead set that Mr. Darrow was going to die. Her eyes sunk down towards both of their shoes, in a tone that seemed to be withdrawing from the conversation, she had to ask one thing.

"...why do you want Mr. Darrow to die so badly?" She hadn't even gotten an answer yet, and she already looked like the 5 year old child who had just gotten scolded for doing something naughty.

It was a good thing she wasn't looking the boy in the eye, but at the same time, having her eyes upon the floor also had its drawbacks too. For one, when the boy hit the nearby table with his fist, the girl hadn't been able to prepare for the noise. She literally jolted up the moment she heard the clatter, but still, kept her eyes upon the ground.

Her fingers, out of a need to get her nervous and anxious energies out, began to crinkle the second bit of foil, picking slightly at the weak metal sheet. All the anger in this boy's voice made her eyes feel as if they weighed at least 100 pounds each, making it near impossible to look back up.

Along the girl's bridge of her nose and underneath her eyes, her skin began to get a bit redder. Why was this boy so mean? Nobody deserved to be in this sort of condition. Even if Yvette had people she didn't like (though, most times it was probably her own fault she had decided), it didn't mean you wished ill intent upon them. Most people called it karma, but for Yvette, it was simply like the kindergarten saying; If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all.

Her nose was now completely red, and it was beginning to dribble slightly. With a few vain sniffles, she pointed out something which didn't make any sense to her. "M-mommy... Mommy a-always told me Mr. Darrow d-didn't have a-any family..." With one of her hands, she rubbed at her eyes, still trying to fight off the tears, but rather quickly was losing this battle with her eyes.

The moment he dared to touch her face, that was when the dam broke. The floodgates opened, and water started streaming from the girl's eyes all too easily. Her expression was no longer simply sad, but now there was a hint of terror in her purple eyes as she was forced to take in this angry boy's rantings.

The facts themselves hit her like a pile of bricks. They hit her hard and solidly. She had to lean against the wall she was suddenly up against for support, for it felt almost as if she was going to wobble onto the ground.

Mr. Darrow has family?

Of course, a million thoughts and questions went through her mind. She felt a bit angry that he dared to call her Mommy a liar. Someone can't be a liar if they aren't fully informed. Ignorant, yes, not a liar though. Did Mr. Darrow even know? The way this boy was talking, he made it sound like he should have known. If Mr. Darrow knew, then he was a liar, but if he didn't know, then he was just as innocent as Mommy.

Since the boy had broke her of her floor-staring habit, she soon enough saw his threatening approach to the hospital bed and to the patient in the bed. She wanted to shout out No no no no no no no to him. She wanted to tell him how wrong he was. Yet, the only thing she could do when he pulled back his hand in ready of attack was practically throw herself at him so her hands would latch onto that tightened up fist and uttered one thing behind her tears.

"I-i'm s-s-sorry!" Typical Yvette. Simply just typical Yvette.