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"Wha--" Okay, either her earlier suspicion about Imo's psychic powers had just gotten proved, or.. or not.

Libby Hilton had been one of the worse chapters in Aggie's life, that was true, but it was also one of the ones she really, really didn't like to share with other people. It was embarrassing, and they might use it as inspiration.

But Imogen knew. She knew about all the times Dagmar had come home crying, with snot all over her face, dirt in her pigtails and her Children's Geographical Lexicon Vol. 4 ripped to shreds again.
And that was something that Aggie would've sworn that she'd never told a soul about. Everyone in her small town had known, but not here. Not anyone else. There'd never been anyone else to tell it to, to be honest, except apparently there had because this strange, familiar girl on the hospital bed knew and she looked so, so sad.

"Y-you.. know? You know. Um." And she looked just as heartbroken as Aggie had felt when she thought about being the laughing stock of the school. She didn't look like Libby had looked at all. "Were we.. were we friends? R-real friends? Really?" And the large, shining, hopeful eyes-look that she so often unconsciously employed was back.

She blushed, entirely taken by the beautiful smile aimed her way. When was the last time someone had looked that happy to see her? Aggie couldn't rightly remember, but something about Imo just screamed 'happiness' - or maybe it was just what Aggie felt around her. It felt like they'd been friends for ages, when she was really quite sure that she'd never met the girl before barging into her hospital room. Except she wasn't really, not anymore.

She shifted lightly on the balls of her feet, a bit uncomfortable with admitting more (potentially) embarrassing things, but-- but there was just something about Imo that made her comfortable. Like a good friend whose expectations you never fell short in.
"I keep wanting to call you Imo and ask you about dance practice." It was easier than having to confirm what she strongly suspected Imogen was right about - they were friends. Real friends.

Swing dancer. She remembered seeing Imo make longing eyes at someone wearing her practice clothes, but that was it. But like the other girl had said, something about it just fit.

"Um, y-yeah." That might have more to do with the fact that she'd been doing that for forever, or, well, since one renowned Libby Hilton, at least, "But, um, there's a reason! Like, the people at my old school - well, not Barren Pines, obviously, but my oldold school - said that I was freaky. Or a freak. I think it's basically the same thing. But you already know that. Um."

"It kind of is. Buffoons. Buffoon." She giggled again, cheered up by Imo's efforts. It was such an odd situation for Aggie, but she was too caught in contentment and comfortability to notice how weird this was for her as a first time meeting someone new. Or not-so-new, as it turned out.

"That's true, too." She grinned, "I doubt any of them have ever found their way to a fastfood restaurant, even though they're in so close contact with good maps." It was a lame joke, but it was a try.

"O-of course." Aggie nodded shyly, feeling a bit bad for unwittingly having made Imo worry about her. But how fantastic it was to have someone who did worry! This was a new phenomena for her, outside of those in her family at least. Or she thought it was.

But that didn't matter, because being friends with Imo again would make her remember the people she'd forgotten.

And maybe it'd actually be worth it.