The disjointed conglomerate of voices echoed in his heavy head, in the darkness of his mind he could barely feel his body. Finally, he opened his eyes, the light of the morning clouded his sight, only allowing him to see figures on the side of the bed and another silhouette at his feet.
< Shhhh! He woke up!! > He heard while raising his bust, with a lot of fatigue.
The feeling of the white blankets and the large spring of the mattress were yet again impressed in his mind for the second time. In only two days, he was again in a hospital bed.
His sight had finally adapted to the light, allowing him to focus on the figures near his cot: A woman dressed in a blue T-shirt with a cat embroidered on it, an elegant man wearing a white hat that let you see the red tuft under the flap and finally a tall man in a gas mask, wearing a light blue shirt.
Her warmth and perfume had engulfed his face, making him delirious. Still, the fatigue of his convalescence prevented him from expressing that feeling, leaving something simple to grumble while Net laughed with joy.
< Although his recovery rate is staggering, after that effort a Meta would take weeks to recover, his body quickly adapted to the stimulus. In just two days, his signals stabilized perfectly.> Lucas began by checking Klint’s values on a strange black glass screen, slightly larger than his hand.
Klint took a deep breath, eager for air, though it didn’t take long to make him homesick for that slightly fruity scent.
He asked massaging his right temple.
It was only then that Klint realized the needles attached to his ski. Those same tubes filled with black liquid, the same ones he had been attached to on the Pietas. His right arm was still bandaged but it didn’t hurt at all, same was for his legs.
Under the incredulous eyes of those present, Klint tore off the tube of the bag, causing blood to drip on the floor mixed with that strange, not very inviting, nutrient papp.
Monica first clung to him, trying to push him to the bed, but nothing to do, Klint was determined to hear the apology in person. He took the girl by the hands and filled with vitality, fled through the door, carrying behind him the echo of Net’s desperate screams.
The sun was shining silently in Maliard’s room, finally healed and intent on sipping Tea, ironically black. A kind nurse fed it with an apple cut into cubes, the red color of the skin was bright ruby under the warmth of the morning rays.
Maliard opened his mouth at regular intervals, waiting for a bite to eat, as he read a fashion magazine with an attractive blond boy dressed in Tailcoat on the cover.
Both the nurse and the boy stopped thinking about their activities, attracted by the mess that was raging outside the room. Screams followed by excuses and reproaches spread through the hallway, joining the sound of glass shattering and heavy metal crashing against the floor.
In a flash, he saw a figure with a woman in his arms. Slowly the boy backed away until he arrived parallel to the door, his breath was heavy and tired.
He turned quickly, bowing slightly and spouting excuses to a nurse he had clashed with a few minutes ago. Klint was completely covered in needles and syringes, but that didn’t bother him at all.
Monica was completely stunned, the unexpected speed and the considerable number of bumps had shaken her deeply. Klint and Maliard looked at each other, pointing and screaming.
He asked, stopping to shake him. Klint was an extraordinarily calm person and maybe even too shy, but when someone was picking on someone defenseless, Klint changed his appearance completely.
< I DIDN’T FORGET ANYTHING, MR SHORT MEMORY> Maliard grabbed his collar, looking at him with fury. The typical insult of him annoyed Klint, who left his grip, keeping his eyes low.
Hee said, settling the crumpled suit.
< Sigh... At least it’s something, but don’t you think you owe someone an apology? > He replied with a sigh, waving his head towards Monica, who had slowly awakened from her little shock. Maliard snapped his tongue, unable to hide his annoyance, strangely pointing exclusively at Net.
He said aloud, with a tone that could only lead to somebody's disgust.
Klint nodded and turned his back to catch Monica, who without a word had looked down as a sign of consent. The two were about to leave, but Maliard called him from behind, turning to see him clench the sheets in anger.
said Klint as he turned, escorting Net out of the room. His conscience remembered his momentum, collapsing shortly thereafter.
The boy watched the couple walk through the door, biting his lower lip and slamming his hands on his knees with resignation and discouragement. The nurse looked at him frightened but calmed down as she approached Maliard.
Maliard looked at his body, revealing itself from under the light sheets. His skin was as good as new and his strength had fully returned but something was out of place inside him and he could feel it.
Net and Klint walked slowly through the corridors of the Hospital section, looking for the exit.
Blurted it in his mind.
Klint, by pressing the buttons completely randomly, managed to get the control unit to work. The iron compartment snapped open, projecting a purple hologram of the medical station.
The two set off quickly, following the directions of Klint. Their steps echoed through the poorly lit white and green corridors.
< He never accepted that I took command after Bluette’s death> She replied in a low, dry voice. Klint’s image of Monica cracked.
Klint was young, but he certainly remembered the massacre that had been the Great War. He had read about it in the history books and many times it had been told by the elders of Cael, his city.
The Great War was a terrible conflict between Andimica, Northest, and Termìe that lasted about 10 years. The causes were still unknown to many but the destruction of the capital of the land of the sun and the invasion by Termìe of the territory of Andimica were the most credited hypotheses.
Driving the notions out of his head, he looked back at the girl, waiting to get Klint’s attention back.
Klint kept his attention on those words, without cracking it in the slightest.
Net had reached the limit but still could not cry. Klint, gently leaned his hand on her shoulder, not putting strength, just to comfort her. Net raised his face, this time genuinely smiling.
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Klint felt his chest tightened slightly, the news was painful, and thinking about their interactions he now felt guilty.
After a few minutes of walking, they found themselves at Noir’s external balcony, the huge reinforced glass globe often gave a bad view, due to the violent storms and cloud formations that lay on top of the base. Klint’s gaze was filled with childish wonder as he watched the view. Snow-covered forests but still green, lush flowering meadows on which the snow began to settle, a long white and thin beach, the gentle shimmer of the sea moved by the waves.
Klint smiled and picked up the tiles. To his amazement, he noticed that as soon as the sockets between his fingers, his name and data were immediately inscribed on the plastic surface of the card.
He was about to put his key inside the narrow opening at the side of the door where the name of the room was inscribed when he heard a strange humming coming from inside.
Klint didn’t think much about it, considering how big and economically strong NOIR was, it shouldn’t be weird to have waitresses and orderlies.
The crack sucked the key greedily, causing it to disappear from Klint’s hand.
Diiing
Immediately after the sound, the door opened silently revealing the interior of the room.
It was much more spacious than his apartment and was even better equipped: Wooden floor, a large window overlooking the sea, a massive table with a stove to use during Dielmon’s winter season, a long red sorry sofa similar to the one in the main hall, an island in the kitchen and numerous other appliances. On the window a vase full of sunflowers and new brushes on the table.
The beige trousers were completely unbuttoned and under the waist, showing the same fabric that covered the chest.
Jeanne looked at him bewildered, trembling, and stuck in the movement. She had arrived at the room about thirty minutes earlier when she had heard that Klint was well and had woken up. She had spent the last days with Net and had slept in the Commander’s room, an experience quite peculiar for her but now she was facing an even stranger one. She wanted to take a shower and prepare her room with the few belongings she had managed to scrape together, unlike Klint who had been "saved" by Net, Jeanne had managed to organize herself.
But now in front of her, the same boy who had defended her and for whom had been confined to the hospital for 3 days, he had entered the apartment and stopped at the door with a pale and petrified face.
Klint was a lost case when it came to social situations or dating, he could be decent in almost any manual work but was a complete failure when it came to handling an Inconvenient encounter. He had a similar problem with the daughter of the owner of his old house, the embarrassing memory pressing on his temple like a burning splinter.
Klint finally managed to look Jeanne in the eye, completely immobilized by shame.
He started whistling, moving like an ill-treated marionette to the first door on the right. He slightly rotated the handle and greeted Jeanne with a nod and a smile. As soon as the door unlocked, Klint jumped into it, crashing to the ground and closing the door with a kick, causing it to slam.
Jeanne was in a complete state of confusion at the sight of that scene, so great to even overcome the initial embarrassment. Her thin lips twitched in a small smile as she laid her clothes on the sofa.
Meanwhile, Klint walked around the room, looking for the best words with which to apologize to the girl. In addition to his social problem, Klint had a complete and irrational anxiety about women. Even he struggled to understand the reason but probably the cause was the lack of social relations and the insecurities derived from all the rumors that circulated through the corridors of his building. All this led him to the conclusion that he was simply in the wrong.
25 minutes had passed and Klint was lying on the bed, half rolling aside until a thin voice reached his ears.
She looked at him smiling, lightly hitting the pillow next to her, inviting him to sit by. He noticed that her lips were shaking more than her hands Klint was tremendously torn, he could not refuse but was really too embarrassed to sit next to her.
Klint smiled, taking a chair from the table and sitting in front of her, keeping a grimace on her face that would simulate a smile. Jeanne inclined her head at the sight of him. The same figure who had fought to his death now appeared as a docile and meek average teenager.
He kept apologizing, raising his head. His natural tone was returning.
Klint took the girl's hand, trembling, but this time his smile was genuine. Jeanne noticed and smiled with joy, partly because Klint hadn’t asked him about the brushes or why she was moving her hands so frantically.
Klint walked over to the fridge, and when he opened it, he noticed a red package, the size of an entire compartment. On top, a white note that said "For Klint and Jeanne" with a smiley face. Klint remembered the meal Maglarck had prepared for his last delivery.
Lance took the heavy pack and laid it on the table, uniting it gently and revealing its contents: Various slices of red meat, yellow peppers, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, and various spices.
Klint was confused by the large amount of food provided by Monica, until he saw the note next to the cut of meat, completely red and with very little fat.
"Dear Klint, welcome to your new apartment, sorry I didn’t warn you that you would have a roommate, well, it doesn’t matter, I was able to "tap some information out of her pretty little mouth and she said you’d buy her food, therefore I managed to understand some her tastes, you should thank me you know".
Klint was holding the note tightly, but he couldn’t break it yet.
"Jeannette likes peppers and stewed meat, so make her happy since she’s been by your side all the time while you’re sleeping. I left your clothes in your room with some Gifts"
As soon as Klint read the word "gift", he turned pale but still decided to keep his promise.
Inside, Klint found his clothes, which he had left in the dressing room, but his eyes shone at the sight of the asymmetric jacket.
Along with the jacket, Klint found new jerseys and pants along with a new pair of glasses, identical to those he had worn on the train. Not that he needed them because his vision was lacking but they gave him a sense of security and made him feel better, that’s why he wore them daily.
Satisfied, he left the room dressed in a large gray shirt and light brown trousers, which went up to the middle of the tibia.
Jeanne was momentarily shaken by the demand but was impressed by Lance’s culinary qualities. Without distracting himself, he had already thinly cut the meat and put it to simmer in a mixture of tomatoes and onions and a part of the peppers. The smell of the sauce was genuinely great.
She answered as she went to her room to clean up and prepare for the bath.
Klint diligently pelted the potatoes and cut them into chunks, then blended them to make the base of his cream. Lance had few people looking after him after the accident.
He had lived like a vagrant and a bellboy until he had enough money to afford a room, but before that he camped on the streets and in the abandoned areas of Sector 0, living on alms and learning everything he needed to raise money, from breaking doors, stealing, repairing cars and fighting.
Klint knew better than anyone how hard it was to live alone, which is why he offered to eat with Jeanne. In his eyes was reflected the same look he had as he wandered between abandoned factories and warehouses, hungry and alone. The times he ate with someone were counted on the fingers of one hand
Satisfied with her little espionage operation, she slipped into the bathroom, remaining tremendously surprised. The interior was very spacious and bright, the yellow tiles and white walls gave the room a truly luxurious look. In front of her, the tub occupied almost half of the room, it seemed deep enough to dive completely.
A glass shelf full of all kinds of products decorated the wall on the side of the tub where a particular black and white pattern made with smaller tiles concluded the look of the room. Of course, the toilet and sink were also more than worthy to be described, but the girl’s attention was directed only towards the tub.
Smiling, she began to lay her clothes on the black rock ledge near the sink. She swiped the handle of the tub, making it fill with steaming water. From the shelf, she chose a violet bottle with salts inside. He took a punch and poured it into the water. Before long the scent of lavender expanded inside the room. Jeanne immersed herself in the hot water, but this did not seem to upset her, what surprised her was, instead, the depth of the tub. She slipped inside, fading under the colored water.
Her head came out of the surface. She grabbed her knee and started rolling.
Jeanne Goghette was always been a "special" person. Her father had abandoned the family when she was still young and her mother had become a prostitute to support her. One day Jeanne’s talent emerged: she was a great painter and many people wanted one of her works, so she managed to support her family for a while. At least, until the demands became more and more incessant.
Her little mind collapsed under the weight of work, a mass of tasks impossible for a 13-year-old to overcome, so her mother began working in brothels again. However, on her fifteenth birthday, her family was attacked, her mother pushed her away, and the sound of torn flesh and then a roar. The last image of that event was the flaming house vanishing in a collapse.
From then on, Jeanne began selling her work and doing errands in Sector I. She often portrayed prostitutes or women on the side of the road. Those images did not satisfy her in the slightest but they were the closest thing to her mother that the girl had, she dipped the brush with her tears and painted those scenes, the lasciviousness of the looks and the sadness of those flesh.
Yet every time she was forced to sell those works of hers to chew something edible she felt as if she was giving up part of her soul and her life. Until Net and Ross found her, painting in the woods
A voice on the other side of the door called her back.
The room filled with a warm breeze as she sat on the comfortable stool near the sink.
She felt her face, strangely relaxed. She couldn’t remember how much time passed since she showed her feelings openly. For a brief moment, she was happy, feeling the warmth along her body. She felt relaxed and content.
An image of Klint and Net crossed his mind, recalling the words of both, although they had paraphrased them differently, the deep sense of those words was identical
The water on her body had dried and to avoid keeping Klint waiting, she had quickly dressed. The scent of dinner permeated the room in an intense but pleasant way. The sweetness of the vegetables and the strong taste of the meat were blended in an exquisite atmosphere.
Klint had finished putting the dishes on the table. He wore nice white skunks, to avoid getting burned with the pot he had just laid on the table.
He smiled, urging Jeanne to sit down, obviously the embarrassment on his face was evident but to keep the promise she was struggling to hide it.
Jeanne sat down as intimated, observing the arrangement of the meal. In front of her a steaming terracotta bowl filled with a cream of potatoes decorated with herbs and drops of a yellowish cream.
Inside the larger pot, the sauce of tomatoes, onions, peppers, and meat continued to boil. Before she could reach for a hand to serve, Klint placed slices on top of the potato cream, taking care not to dirty them.
He said smiling as she sat down, serving her portion.
Jeanne picked up the bite with the spoon and tasted it elegantly. The taste and the combination were exquisite, enough to make her afraid of the skill of Lance at the stove.
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