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Howl Wickham had been stuck in the hospital for a couple days for observation after his inexplicable injury. He was quite certain that he should have been released after the first day, though some of the personnel attempted to give him a partial explanation that he lost too much blood to be released so quickly.

So he sat in the hospital bed, passing the time by reading a Gardening magazine. He had skipped over articles dealing with the practical gardening meant to yield produce. Instead, he favored the articles dealing with flowering plants.

He soon enough heard steps at the doorway. Without even looking up, he licked the end of his thumb before flipping the page of the magazine.

"Come," was his simple invitation for whoever was at the door to enter. He was not exactly expecting any sort of visitors, so he assumed it was one of the nurses coming in to check on him.

If only he knew how much his mother had meddled this time...

The voice was familiar, but unexpected. A pair of teal eyes lifted up from the article he had been involved in to confirm that the voice he was hearing was not a figment of his imagination.

He had not intended on drawing any attention to himself and his current injuries. So where as many would have found comfort in seeing the caring face of a coworker at his bedside, the lad could not help but be annoyed that Lydia had come to visit.

Setting his magazine aside, he attempted to keep such negative emotions hidden behind a relatively neutral expression. He brushed his fingers through his bangs, brushing them out of his eyes so both eyes could focus on his guest.

He uttered in a self-loathing tone "I must look like a mess, Miss Sfakianos. And I feel absolutely disgusting." The hospital had not exactly allowed him the ability to wash his hair very readily. He brushed some stray hairs over his shoulder before he then addressed his own concerns.

"I had been hoping to keep my injury below the radar, Miss Sfakianos. Shall I take it that my mother has contacted Maize Maizier to inform them of my current condition?"

His absence had been noticed. It wasn't completely unexpected, but even knowing this fact did not seem to affect his opinion upon the matter. Even from the girl's casual glances she seemed to make, it only further proved his point, which he soon enough mentioned.

"What is the first question that naturally comes to mind when you hear someone is in the hospital, Miss Sfakianos? You have not asked it yet, but I can tell you have been trying to figure it out."

He sat up straight and continued to look his coworker straight in the eyes. Despite the contact, there seemed something distant about the way he looked at her. "This is a personal matter and I would have preferred my coworkers to remain ignorant upon the subject matter. Worried for no reason, or even upset at me for no reason would have prevented the question from being asked."

He had his pride, but he also knew that his explanation of how he got the injury was less than satisfying to most. The less people that inquired, the less suspicions that could have arisen.

The girl's tirade did not move him by any means. However, the wheels in his mind were turning, pondering a manner in which he could potentially work this ordeal to his favor.

He was not the sort who would let his guard down. His coworker had easily noticed such already, with her label of "selfish" making her views quite evident. Were he in a better place mentally, he might have agreed with some of her accusations. However, he was not such an enlightened young man.

In a manner which almost would have seemed like a lawyer maintaining a professional tone while prattling off legal-eese, Howl told Lydia what he was going to do.

"I am a man who enjoys his privacy, Miss Sfakianos. That being said, I will inform you as to the manner of my injury. I only do this as an informative piece. You may tell our coworkers of what you have seen. You will also tell them I want to hear nothing about it when I return to work. I want no pity, I want no questions, I want to treat this as if nothing happened."

He paused distinctly, turning slightly to the side so he could practically glare at the girl from the corner of his eye in a nearly haughty manner.

"I also will not speak any further until you unfold your arms and sit like a lady, rather than a prideful twit."

He had spelled out quite clearly what his terms had been. Lydia had clearly understood his request, seeing as she certainly made the efforts to follow it to a T save for one aspect. She had sat herself down prettily like a young lady, then blatantly crossed her arms once more.



She had made her stance obvious. If she did not want the information, then she would not get the information.

Once more, he reached to pick up his magazine, reopening it to the page he had just been upon and took to reading once more. If she wanted to stay seated and watch him read an article about gardening practices in Europe, she was more than welcome to watch.

The lad didn't even lift up his eyes from the article as she attempted to show how clever she was.

"I am here under observation at the moment because I lost a lot of blood from my injury."

It was a way to start off the explanation, and discreetly explain his momentary lapse of observation.

As he casually flipped to the next page of his article, he explained plainly "I cannot explain the circumstances which led to my injury, for it is not clear to even myself. One moment I am at the street-side, walking through the commercial district, the next moment I remember, I am huddled over a toilet, bleeding from my chest."

He spoke with such a formal tone which might have tipped off other people who might have been lying, but Howl always had such a formal air to him that it didn't seem out of place.

He closed his magazine again, setting it upon his lap this time.

"I have been told that the injury was caused by some sort of bladed object."

With that, he pushed the edge of his gown so that the arm hole bared more of his chest than he usually was willing share. The edge of the series of black stitches holding his injury closed was easy enough to see off his pale skin.

"I have 27 stitches thanks to this mystery injury." Feeling as if he was done sharing, he picked up his magazine yet again, opening it back up to his chosen article again.

His answer was noncommittal. "I was unconscious when I was brought here. I have not had the chance to look through my personal possessions since I was brought in, though I will have a chance to do such once I am ejected."

He neglected to mention the fact the hospital staff was baffled as to how he obtained his injury since his clothing was unaffected (aside from the blood stains).

He finally seemed to acknowledge Lydia's presence again as he glanced up towards her. He seemed oddly tranquil and withdrawn from the whole situation. "Will you please tell Mr. and Mrs. Yates that I will be back as soon as I am able to work?"