The aides had brought new clothes, something akin to hospital gowns, and thrown them onto the beds, and while the foremost one of them explained very briefly what was going on, and Aliron spazzed out with more questions, Iris busied herself playing with the one that might have been intended for her.
Not that she would wear such a thing. She wasn’t preparing for surgery, it didn’t look like it would fit (or be that comfortable), and they hadn’t asked. But it gave her something to do rather than get worked up about all of her questions. Sure, she wasn’t blurting them out like her roommate, but she still had plenty of them, the foremost being “What are they protecting us from?” and “Why only us?”
The strange distortion in Aliron’s voice, combined with the path of her thoughts, made her wonder if perhaps they were doing a very poor job of protecting her.
She scooted over the bed, fixing her dress as she made it to the other side, and walked over to Aliron like one might try to approach a skittish cat: slow, gliding steps, hands held out in front, slightly-hesitant concerned look on face. She made it over successfully, and placed one of her small hands on his arm, gently.
“Aliron, we’ll find your suitcase. But I don’t think that this man took it, and I don’t think that he’s going to tell us where it is.” She looked over at the man, still moving slowly, and stared her message at him: don’t contradict me.
She’d been in few situations like this before; normally, she preferred a more direct, punchy method of negotiation, but that wasn’t applicable here. Foremost, Aliron seemed to be the largest threat, and she wanted him on her side, not against her. And, these looked and sounded like low-rank employees: if she were to think of things in a comic sense, the minions. Fighting them would be extra pointless.
@Eklispe@Ambra