@fearprophet liked x for a starter.
They’d taken the laces out of her shoes. She frowned at that, reached forward to inspect them on her feet, then trailed a finger across a purpling bruise on her ankle. It was shaped like Texas. Funny. Not ha-ha funny, of course, nothing ever really was here.
The chemical smell of Arkham’s infirmary stung in her nose. Idly, Mary wondered if she’d ever get rid of it – it always seemed to hang around for weeks, even after the shortest stay. A nurse, scowling down at her, pressed a handful of pills and a cup of water into her hands. Mary took them quickly and sullenly, wincing as the tap water stung at a cut on the inside of her cheek.
“Show me,” the nurse instructed. Mary, eyes murderous, opened her mouth wide. The woman tutted, went back to her desk at the end of the room.
A moment passed, the noise of the infirmary falling back to a quiet murmur. “Which one of them,” Mary said, and lifted her gaze to look at Jon in the bed opposite, “d’you think is gonna end up like you and Harl?”