DISCONTINUED - A Consoling Silence; Aris Jones

bittersweet - four

                            [Third Person POV]

       Sparks of flame lit up the path along the second floor, Rosalina stood towards the back of the group as they walked. Strewn around the room were many people, looking just as dirty and tired as the Gladers. Ripped sheets used as curtains separated sections of mats and beds. Clothes hung to dry swayed in the breeze, a chill that passed through the shattered windows.

     "I guess newcomers aren't so common around here." Frypan whispered, on Rosalinas right. She sent him a smirk and hummed in agreement, tilting her neck to get out a cramp from laying on the ground only minutes before.
     "Keep up, Jorge wants to meet you." the woman spoke, her voice had a slight rasp to it. Rosalinas mind itched, it reminded her of someone but she couldn't put her finger on who. The upstairs had better lighting by a mile, peeking over Minho's shoulder Rosalina could see the woman who found them downstairs had short hair and fair skin.
     "Who's Jorge?" Thomas spoke, irritated and tired but trudging forward.
      "You'll see, no ones come out of The Scorch in a long time. You've just got him curious." the girl paused her speech and turned to Thomas, checking him out. "And me, too."

       "Anyone else starting to get a bad feeling about this place?" Newt mumbled, his eyes scanning through the crowd that gathered and started following; looking to the group as if they were fresh meat.
       "Let's just hear him out. Ya know, see what he has to say." Thomas insisted, barely calming the groups nerves. The girl lead the group up another set of stairs, they stood in a cozy room. One man sat at a desk hands tweaking at a radio making static pop out its speakers.
      "Jorge, they're here." the girl walked from the group and a few steps over to a couch. She sank down and tilted her head to the man. Everyone took in the room, it was nicely furnished and the lighting was decent.
      "Damn." The man, Jorge, stood up from his work and crossed his arms. "You ever get the feeling the whole worlds against you?" he asked rhetorically, placing his hands on his hips.

      "All the time." uttered Minho, he quickly became quiet to hear Jorge's words. Jorge raised an eyebrow,  not expecting Minho's response, but continued.
      "Three questions." he stared into the group, grabbing a mug and taking a sip. "Where did you come from, where are you going," he stepped forward and set down his cup. "-how can I profit?" An uncomfortable silence flowed through the room, the group hesitant to answer. Rosalina looked to Thomas and Newt, expecting one of them to answer. But when they stayed silent she observed the room, her eyes drifted to the couch. The girl who brought them in held a straight face, legs crossed on the couch. Her hair was dark but fit her face nicely, her face beautiful. Something in Rosalina clicked, her breath hitched and she pushed past the Gladers to stand in front of the girl.