Emil Günther
Physical state: Sick
Mental state: Heavily troubled
Emil watched them leave and the numbers on the doors too.
Odd to the left. Even to the right. But odd on both sides. They are all odd, aren't they? And the oddest one right there. What if it is the other way around? Us and them. There came a bang from the problematic cell, and then another, and another came after it filtered by an inch of metal. Emil's hands left the pockets just as the beating lowered towards the floor and elongated shadows shaped like long feelers rippled briefly.
Down there. My summoning from above and below! He coughed forcefully to the rhythm of the clanking steel door and pretending to swoon half-fell in front of Dupree almost knocking into his side, but waving immediately his hand as if to say 'I am okay, I am okay' and placing it against the wall to help erect himself, to obscure the professor's view with his back. Having staggered a couple of steps forward on his shaking frightened thighs, head bent, his shoe sole pressed the paper on the ground.
Don't muddy it! Emil spun on his heel, back against the biting steel, the bilious face that of an actor. The knocking subsided and only quiet came out.
”Persistent, them.” He tapped his palm on the door behind him.
”Scared me there. Never know when to quit. They'll just hurt themselves. Someone should tell the doctor, or a nurse.” He arrayed a semi smile.
"I think I'll head to the bathroom, professor. I'm feeling dehydrated. Yes.”