“[color=ec008c]What the fuck do you mean ‘[i]what’s in my eye[/i]’? Your [i]eye[/i], dipshit. Unless you mean—[/color]” She turned from the screen, noticing that Quinn did in fact mean the other one. Frankly, that made even less sense. “[color=ec008c]Nothing,[/color]” she said, exasperated. “[color=ec008c]A hole.[/color]”

But Quinn didn’t relent. She had that same stupid, desperate, worried look on her face that seemed bolted on six days out of the week. It baffled her, honestly. How could someone go from mulching a handful of Modir to sniveling in bed in the span of, what, an hour? Maybe? Roaki wasn’t entirely sure what day it was, to be fair. Either way, unless she wanted Quinn to spray snot and anxiety all over her sheets, there wasn’t much choice but to play along. 

“[color=ec008c]Fine,[/color]” she said, hopping over to where Quinn sat up. She leaned close, balancing herself so she could stay upright, but she still wasn’t tall enough. So she bent Quinn forward, not gentle but not like an enemy. “[color=ec008c]Don’t move. And [i]don’t[/i] sneeze. That’s different from moving.[/color]”

Threat satisfactorily conveyed, Roaki hunched and guided an exploratory finger into Quinn’s eye socket. She wasn’t as slow or careful as Quinn had been, but this also wasn’t her first foray into wound-probing. Several of her own modium scars had begun as craters in the flesh, some quite shallow, others bone-deep. It had sated some grim curiosity in her to poke at them, but they were always fresh and the pain was prohibitory to her fun. Quinn’s eye-wound was old, and likely healed beyond sensation. 

She tapped lightly around at the scarred flesh, and when Quinn didn’t immediately shriek in agony, she took that as the green light to continue. It ought to have been more exciting, like digging her fingers into the flesh of another Savior. She could feel that in her memory, in the phantom sensations that often lingered when she disconnected. Wet pulp in her hands, screams for mercy in her ears. This was…not that. It was dry, silent, clinical. Boring. 

Then it wasn’t.

“[color=ec008c][i]Wie bitte…?[/i][/color]” she mumbled. She didn’t know much Helburkan, not compared to a scholar, but she’d heard a few phases from the doctors who had operated on her. They stuck. 

Her finger had hit something hard, sharp, like bone only there ought not to have been any bone there. It was cold, too, just barely. Like…metal. 

“[color=ec008c]Did you get shot in the face? Did I miss you getting shot in the face? You’d have told me if that was happening, right? Don’t move—uh, keep not moving.[/color]” Roaki snatched a small handheld light from her bedstand and, leveling herself again, shined it inside. 

Sure enough, she saw metal. A tiny bit, smaller than a fingernail, and buried in the tissue. She tapped it, and as she did, Quinn would feel that same, distinct sensation. No pain, but for a moment, until it faded, she would be entirely aware of [i]something[/i] there.

“[color=ec008c]That…[/color]” she mumbled. “[color=ec008c]That’s weird. That…it looks like [i]modium[/i]. But…but you’d be dead if that was modium. Your brain’d be a metal flower right now, even if you just got it. Oi, deadgirl, when’d you lose this?[/color]”