[✓] 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁𝐿𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 | 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝑓𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

Word count: 3437

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 stood in the main foyer of Meritech Prosthetics, their eyes roaming the room and their minds on high alert.

The room seemed to be decorated fairly modernly, with its gleaming white ceiling, windows that took up the entire back wall, glass walls that separated each office, and a marbled desk that had a small lamp hanging over it.

Behind the desk worked a young, dark-skinned receptionist, with shoulder-length curls and a small, lace bow on the neckline of her purple-and-grey striped shirt. A long, dark green couch with no arms was pushed against the marbled wall to the right of them, with a tall plant sitting on its right.

Two mannequins were positioned on either side of the desk. The one on the left had a blue right arm, grey left hand, and green left leg, with the company's name printed across the chest. The mannequin on the right was a duplicate, although the placement of the colours was opposite to the first.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows as a doctor helped a man with crutches hobble towards a room to the right.

Five looked around the room, twirling the glass eyeball between his fingers as his eyes wandered.

"So . . . what do we do now?" Elizabeth questioned, folding her arms as she turned her attention from the mannequin to him. "Are we waiting for someone?"

Elizabeth's question was soon answered as a doctor appeared from the left. He was pretty tall, a bit stout, and the lab coat that he wore bore the company logo on the right, while the breast pocket on the left had an assortment of coloured pens. His ID card was attached to a lanyard that hung around his neck, identifying him as Mr. Lance Biggs.

His eyebrows furrowed as he caught sight of the pair, and he tilted his head as he called out, "Uh, can I help you?"

Five turned towards him, his left hand in his pocket as he raised the eyeball for the man to see with his right. He stepped towards him as he answered, "I need to know who this belongs to."

The sight of the glass eyeball clearly confused the doctor as he furrowed his eyebrows and gestured toward it. "Where did you get that?"

"What do you care?"

The man stared at him, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he squinted his eyes.

Elizabeth stepped on Five's foot.

He fixed his answer, "I . . . I found it . . . at a playground, actually. Uh, must have just" —he clicked his tongue before giving a fake smile to the man— "popped out. I wanna return it to its rightful owner."

"Aw," the receptionist cooed as she looked towards Mr. Biggs, "what a thoughtful young man."

"Yeah, look up the name for me, will ya?" Five looked towards her, his smile and tone becoming slightly more irritated.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but patient records are strictly confidential," Mr. Biggs informed them apologetically as he shoved his left hand into his pants pocket. "That means I can't tell you—"

"Yeah, I know what it means."

"But I'll tell you what I can do. I will take the eye off your hands," Mr. Biggs began his offer as he swept aside the right side of his lab coat and put his right hand in his other pocket, "and return it to the owner. I'm sure he or she will be very grateful, so if I can just . . ." He took his right hand out of his pocket and began to stretch it towards Five.

Five recoiled. "Yeah, you're not touching this eye."

Mr. Biggs paused for a moment before furrowing his eyebrows. "Now, you listen here, young man—"