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WHO: The Narrator and Thomas Blake
WHERE: NOHoPE
WHEN: Thursday afternoon
WARNINGS: Will add as necessary.
SUMMARY: The Narrator visits Thomas at the hospital, so exciting.
FORMAT: Quick.

[Visiting Thomas is the first time he's been in the hospital since he stopped going to work. On his way in, he drops off his old keycards at his replacement's desk. No one bothers asking where he went, and he doesn't bother saying. He's sure they saw it coming.

Tyler can find him here, but Tyler can find him anywhere. This is how he rationalizes his visit with Thomas. That, and that the man is so obviously already a target anyway. What harm can it do.

He follows visitor's protocol to the tee. The name on his vistor's pass reads 'Jack.']

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[ The monotony of treatment, therapy, sitting around and waiting for god-knows-what and probably for some murderous dick to break him out has let Thomas pretty much twiddling his thumbs in mind-numbing boredom. So, when the whole "you're getting a visitor" thing came up, he accepted it without a second thought. Anything to get through the day, even when it's some guy named Jack he didn't know.

When he sees the familiar face through the glass window in the door, he sighs in relief. ]

You can come in.

Okay. Right.

[His voice is muffled through the door; he never knows what to say. He steps inside, his movements cautious and slow. And awkward. God, there's an awkward component to this whole thing that he hasn't even thought about until now. He's been too busy wrapped up in Tyler.

It takes him some time to speak.]

Hi.

[ Thomas lifts up a little from his slump on the unmade bed as he opens the door, clenching and unclenching his jaw in thought. He's not entirely sure how this works, really.

He supposes it doesn't matter. ]

Hey. [ Lifting his hand up, he smooths his hair away from his face. ] Why are you here?

I wanted to see how you were doing. [Beat.] How are you doing?

[ For a moment, Thomas opens his mouth to cordially answer, like any damn day of the year. With a flicker of realization, he leans back, his features twisting into something cold and harsh. ]

That's all you're asking me. That's what you came for. To see if I'm okay.

Look at me, [ gesturing widely ] look at where I am. What's the answer?

[He grimaces inwardly. His eyes flicker to the ground, to the opposite wall. He clears his throat.]

I got the money.

[ He sighs, head turning to the side. ]

I don't care.

I had to use it. [He continues because he doesn't know what else he can say.] I'll pay you back. Tyler and I aren't on great terms right now, so I followed your advice and got myself an apartment.

You could've burnt it, for all I care. [ His burgeoning curiosity too hard to keep in, but he tries to smother it in that callous, nonchalant attitude he's so desperately trying to hold. Refusing to look at the network since he was arrested has left him starved. ]

You're not on great terms?

He might use you to get to me. [He scuffs his shoes against the ground.] I'm sorry in advance.

Use me. [ His eyebrows lift. ] Use me how?

Fuck if I know. [He runs his hand down his face.] It's probably nothing.

[ Thomas lifts himself up off the mess of a bed with both of his hands, taking a step forward. His posture turns from guarded to open, his fingers splaying out by his sides. ] What, are you saying that he's going to break me out and hire me? Are you saying that he'll try to manipulate me into doing something?

Or are you just trying to tell me this to get me stressed?

[He thinks about moving back, but he doesn't. He lifts his hand from his face.]

Thomas believe me, the last thing in the world I want is to get you stressed. I'm just saying that if he talks to you or, god help me, he visits you, you should be on guard. The whole reason he fought with you that one time, it was because he thought I was spending too much time talking with you. Or fighting you. Whatever. He takes over my life.

[ His facial features slacken a little, fatigue softening the edges of his eyes, his lips. His hands release down to his side. ]

Are you saying he might try to kill me? Might?

Tyler isn't the killing type. But like I said, I don't know what he'll do. I just know you're in enough trouble already.

[Beat. Softer:]

You don't need me adding to your problems.

I'm going to be fine. Definitely not planning on staying the whole time, so. [ If he looks fearful for a second, it's gone the moment it ticks by. ] I'll be fine, here.

[ Clearing his throat, composing himself. ] What happened to get him pissed off to this point?

[Not staying here the whole time. Really? He watches Thomas for a moment, browed furrowed, and almost asks, hey, what do you mean? when suddenly Thomas is asking the question he doesn't want to think about. He winces.]

I can't tell you.

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