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It took very little investigating to discover that Maebe was in the infirmary. Deus held few secrets, and it was inevitable that she would have noticed her abhorrent existence there anyway while spending time with Robert. Thankfully, none of her visits with her husband would be tainted by the sudden recognition of the foul creature nearby - she was prepared with the information of her unpleasant presence now, and opted to simply avoid the infirmary for several days, hoping to avoid any premature contact in turn.

Everything settled into place with astonishing ease, however, and it might have been suspicious to Mimsy had she not felt that the divide of power between herself and the woman in that infirmary bed was significant enough to account for it. If she wanted her gone, then she would be gone.

And she was not without want.

The timing of her arrival had been carefully calculated, as had everything else surrounding the occasion. There was a vial in her pocket, accompanied by a small capped syringe, and she adoringly toyed with each of them as she walked towards the beds designated for long-term occupants.

"Good evening, Maebe," she greeted her, and sat in an empty chair by her bedside without bothering to wait for an invitation. The feigned pleasantry in her voice did not make it to her face, which retained its typically impassive expression. "Are you lonely? Where have your acquaintances gone?"

Patiently, Mimsy waited for her to finish typing on her phone, delaying any action until she could be entirely certain what Maebe's course of action was. When she found that it was nothing more than a message, one corner of her lips twitched alongside a shuddering exhale of breath. If she couldn't talk, could she scream? If she couldn't scream, what would her pain sound like?

"Will they?" One brow arched upward. It was clear that she meant the question to be more rhetorical than anything - it was all part of the game, all little pieces of the puzzle that would come together into her perfect picture of reality. "It is just...well."

She laughed, a sarcastic chuckle at best, and appeared as if she was thinking something so silly that she could hardly bear to admit it.

"Generally, one would not bother dedicating the time or energy to reading material in that case. Why waste either of those resources - which are undoubtedly precious, in your position - if you were expecting someone so soon?" Her attention was briefly diverted to the sheets that hid her hand, and a toothy smile crept across her face before she looked up at her again. A curious hand reached towards Maebe's arm to gently touch her, masked as a gesture of comfort.

"It is irrelevant, regardless," she murmured, punctuated with a sigh. "I do not require much time with you. I am efficient and prepared. If you are alone now, I have already found all the time that I need. It is kind of you to spare it."

The bitchface went entirely unnoticed, as Mimsy just assumed that it was one of her many 'normal' expressions. The reference to 'Blues Clues' was similarly discarded, the result of an entirely cartoonless childhood, but she had already gathered the intention of Maebe's response at the mention of Sherlock.

A shiver coursed over her, beginning as a pleasant tingling in her fingertips as she flinched away from her.

"They must be so significant to you, for you to be such an attentive companion." She leaned towards the bed, lowering her volume as if she were sharing a secret. "When I am ill, those who care about me ensure that I am never alone. What is that indicative of for you, hm? Not even a monster has to be alone, but here you are, with no one here to help you."

Maebe was moving her head, apparently warning her that someone had come to her rescue, but that didn't make much sense at all. She fell silent, listening for any signs that that was true, and quietly cleared her throat to continue when she heard nothing of the sort.

"Speaking of, however...since we do have the time - what are your intentions with my sister? If my brother were not sleeping, would you still attempt to pursue him as you had before, or has your focus shifted to her?"

She took a deep breath, and slowly released it through a falsely cordial smile, oozing saccharine.

"Please be honest with me, Miss Bertrand."

Whatever the answer was, it seemed to be a lengthy one. As she had before, Mimsy remained silent with marked patience while the response was typed.

But when she finally showed it to her, an expression of horror on her face, it was not very lengthy at all.

"Yes." Her brow twitched, and she frowned, itching to ask why, but focus was important here. This could easily have been just another attempt at a distraction. "I would like an answer to both of my inquiries now. I will provide any further information after your reply."

Maebe had finally thrown her off of her carefully deliberated balance, regardless of whether or not that had been her intention.

When Mimsy finished reading the words on the screen, her eyes grew wide, cheeks flushing with the warmth of her own discomfort. Her mind sorted through rapid flashes of memories and information - the Kingdom, the Alchemist, the Bard, the panic, the disgust, the opinion Dwight had given her when asked about those universes - and she struggled to stay on task, frantically latching onto the beginning of the text. Maybe it would be easier to handle if she worked from start to finish.

"So...you are in love with her," she began, exhaling slowly through her teeth. "That is an immensely serious word of great significance, Miss Bertrand. Love is powerful and important. It can be just as dangerous or beneficial as FEAR is to us, and is equally life-altering when applied to an organism. Are you serious in your usage of it as such?"

She wiped her palms on her coat, knowing that an inability to grasp the items in her pocket would not be to her advantage.

"Regarding the...er...no, I did not have sex with my brother." The clarification was a whispered hiss, lest anyone overhear and suggest otherwise to Robert. "I have never been intimate with anyone aside from my husband."

The stare was met with a blank look, now that Mimsy had solved the problem of answering the question about Lucky; there were no more complications to solve, until Maebe finally stopped staring and took the time to reply.

Then it was her turn to stare, following the second time that the phone was extended towards her. She studied the marred face in front of her, searched her eyes for any indication that she was lying for the sake of making out of this alive. Her lips pursed into a small frown as she glanced towards her neck for signs of tense muscles or a sudden spike in her pulse, gaze drifting up towards her face again as she began to speak.

"My husband is Robert Morris. He is indescribably crucial to me and to my existence. He loves me very much." One hand was lifted out of her lap, to display the rings on her finger, proof that this was a big deal without having to elaborate extensively. "Please do not mistake this for empathy or camaraderie, but I do understand your position. Love is not meant to be easily earned. I am glad that you are not speaking lightly in this regard. It is very serious."

Her hand dropped back to her lap, and she began to pick at her thumbnail, an anxious tell she'd never been able to get rid of.

"Does she love you in return?" The answer was fairly clear to her, but she asked nonetheless. "You have not hidden or attempted to diminish your feelings towards her, correct?"

Being congratulated caused Mimsy to preen with pleasure, until she both remembered who it was coming from and continued reading what had been written to her.

"I have a wonderful sense of humor," she corrected her - while scowling, of course. "And I have many doubts in your mental capacities, but do not think that it has anything to do with Camille's ability to love you."

There was something in her expression as she turned the phone towards her that gave her pause, raising a doubt that she truly believed what she was saying. It made no sense. Why would anyone look like that while speaking about the one that they loved? That was entirely contradictory to all of her observations to this point, and was a truly unsettling anomaly, considering her sister's involvement.

"Is something wrong with her love? Is it deficient?" She looked uncomfortable, and even more pale than usual. "Why do you appear unhappy? Love dispels that, typically, and...I...is she incapable of adequately providing it for you?"

Whatever the noise Maebe made had meant, Mimsy missed it entirely through her own rising concerns, anxieties upon more anxieties that encouraged nausea and a panic that hurt in her chest. The message was another long one this time, and she had already come up with no less than two dozen possibilities of what it might be. They largely revolved around the fact that her problem might be genetic, might be shared, might be impossible to ever get rid of--

But the text she gave her made her feel sick for an entirely different reason. Her skin felt cool as the air in the infirmary met the perspiration that followed a strong wave of nausea, and it took everything to not throw up on her, as tempting as it might have been.

"Don't--don't hurt her. Understand that if she takes the role of your missing heart, then you will need to treat her as such. If you cast her aside, you will not survive. That will not be due to my involvement - one simply cannot live without a functioning heart, once they are provided with one. Some are fortunate to possess this from birth, but not all of us." She clenched her teeth and wished she hadn't asked. Maybe it would have been easier. Maybe Cami could have learned to live without her. "Trust her. Allow her to guide you through the unfamiliar. Allow her the chance to love you as much as she is willing to, or you will stifle her, and she will never grow. Be receptive to her, or you will stifle yourself."

Maybe if she had just killed her at the start, she wouldn't have seen herself in that stupid broken face in front of her.

"And do not take her away from me." She swallowed hard and thought better of the scowl that so badly wanted to find its way to her mouth. "We have not yet had a chance to live as family. I will not impede upon your chance to have a heart if you do not impede upon mine."