You can pace the room if you’d like, but it’s barely a cage; long enough to lay out on the floor in either direction, but not much bigger. At first it seems empty; but after a time the shallow sound of breathing is perceptible, coming from one of the walls. There’s a bed there, little more than a cot, with a supine body on it. Was that there
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Tommy, Tommy!
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Billy...
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She approaches, crouching down beside the cot to reach forward and look for a pulse at least.]
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...Potes dicere*?
[When it comes out in Latin, Natasha furrows her brow, and blinks rapidly, trying again:]
Kannst du sprechen*?
[Okay. That's just...wonderful.]
*Can you speak?
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I don't understand you.
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But...what's going on here?
Tentative, she shrinks away slightly, aware of how dirty she is and the blood on her shirt, her shiny, gold mockingjay pin the only clean thing about her.
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Finally, he pulls himself to a sitting position, fidgeting with the needle in his arm.
"What're you in for?" he asks flatly.
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At least, that's what he tells himself as he scrambles to his feet and shifts nervously back and forth at the foot of the cot. He should scream, see if it wakes the guy up. Mouse claps his hands instead and jumps up and down in the hopes that'll make some kind of noise.
It does. Barely. ]
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Who are you?
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Mouse blinks silently in the darkness and then points at himself. ]
Mouse. [ He shuffles his feet again and then points at the boy, making sure to keep his hand to himself. ] ...Tommy?
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[He's suspicious, still not quite out of the confines of dreaming. This is all he has. He hasn't brought the walls down yet, to come face to face with his own mirror image.]
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(The comment has been removed)
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Where... what... How did you get here?
[Still not all here, Euph.]
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