#buzzes nervously

                          “Just who are you???!” 

Stupid decisions weren't exactly something uncommon for Gally but never had he made one this ridiculous. Going into the Maze was -in itself- a death wish. He was aware of this. Especially so late in the day, nearing the time the walls would close. Yet he went anyway; forced by an insatiable curiosity that itched in the back of his mind and pleaded with him to do so. Essentially the trip wasn't bad. Turning down corridor after corridor just to repeat was a simple and boring task that quickly made him lose interest. But there was, of course, always a catch. Another right turn because the left led to a visible dead end.  A creature sat to the right.  Gally froze.  He didn't even bother running; he was aware he'd never make it away from the creature. Which ultimately resulted in him leaned against a wall, chest heaving as he breathed and clutched at the side of his stomach, where the wound of being stung was. He felt like he'd been there for hours on the brink of losing consciousness. He was only aware that someone had yanked him up, swearing reaching his ears, a voice telling him he needed to help the other get him back to the Glade. Though he was mentally away from the present, his body picked up and stumbled along with the other, who he couldn't register was-- some random Runner. The moment they arrived back in the Glade, questions were thrown from every direction and he was still being dragged. The Med Jacks were called and he was whisked from one persons hands to others. He didn't process anything until he was in the Homestead, as if his brain had granted him permission to know what was going on. Frantic whispering in some corner of the room caught his attention, but he didn't bother to look to see who it was. His head lulled slightly, dipping forward where he was. "Slim it, Shank," He grumbled in nearly a growl.

The cover? I already did