#viatcris

Initially, the kid was angry. There was someone in his alley, curled up in HIS spot. In the pale light emanated from the lone street lamp, Ray could make out feminine features; a soft jaw, large eyes and plumper lips than most men, a slim figure and no indication of the sparse facial hairs so attributed to male puberty. And that sent the kid on edge, fear filling his heart ; women were not to be trusted, women hurt him. A woman was in his bed.

Then came the confusion, forcing his eyebrows together in bewilderment as his gaze landed on the pile of gauze that laid in a heap next to the figure. Was she hurt? No, there was no blood on the gauze, no puss, nothing – what was she using the gauze for?

  He looked up from the book he was reading and frowned at Mica, closing the paperback and standing so he could walk to Mica’s side. He was gentle, placing the back of his hand against her forehead. He winced and drew his hand back, sighing.  

     “You’ve got a fever. C’mon, Mica - let’s get you resting and I’ll make you something to drink, alright?” There had been something going around that a couple of the B-Team members had gotten recently. Now that Mica seemed to have it, Ryan was sure the main six would be getting sick now. However, he was more focused on getting his friend well.

        She  would  laugh  at  Ryan  if  she  didn’t  feel  so  close  to  vomiting,  because  of  course  she  has  a  fever.  She  thought  that  was  pretty  obvious,  but  inconsequential  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things.  After  all,  she  could  tough  out  something  that  small.

       Mica  purses  her  lips,  hoping  to  keep  her  stomach  contents  inside  her  &&  NOT  all  over  the  vagabond  himself.  Though  she  briefly  (  something  closer  to  a  flash  of   f l e e t i n g   inspiration  )  considers  it  a  hilarious  story.  Throwing  up  on  the  most  notorious  killer  on the  west  coast  &&  living  to  tell  it. 

“Do you really expect me to pass on a dick joke? I’m offended.”