"Where are we going?" I asked Ken walking ahead of me. Probably because of the ear-piercing sound of gunfire or was he ignoring me on purpose, he continued to walk at a consistent pace while I followed him and never replied. "Where are we going?" I tried asking him for the second time.
He stopped walking and searched for something in his pocket. "Oh, that's right," he muttered to himself. "Almost forgot..."
"You suddenly stopped walking," I said as I continued to walk until I caught up to him. "What's wrong?"
"Hey machine," he called, searching for something in his pocket.
"I think I've said this before, but my name's Rem, not Machine."
I've said that several times already...
"Who cares about that right now?" he hissed, still searching in his pockets. "Do you have a piece of paper with you? A pen also."
"Why do you need something like that here in -"
"Do you have one or not?" he cut me off, glaring.
I checked my pockets and saw a crumbled piece of paper and a pen. Where did this come from...?
"...?"
Wait, come to think of it, the leftover paper that I was holding last morning, I returned to Sergeant Charlotte with the pen she lent me, or that should be what happened. As soon as I gave it, she crumpled the paper and placed it in my pocket along with the pen. 'I have no use for this now. Throw it away or keep it, not that fucking I care' is what she said, even glaring at me.
"..."
Did she just treat me like a trashcan...?
"Can you stop staring at your fucking pockets?" Ken snarled. "Do you have one or not?"
"...I have one," I said, grabbing the crumbled paper along with the pen from my pocket. "Is this all right?"
"Wait, really...?" Ken looked at me with a confused expression. "I didn't think you actually have one..."
"Is this not what you need?"
"No, no," He immediately grabbed the paper and pen. "This will do perfectly..."
"May I ask why you need that?"
"Turn around for a second."
That doesn't answer my question but -
"...Understood."
He then placed the paper I gave him on my back and seemed to start writing on it.
"What are you writing?" I asked, tilting my head to my back to see.
Of course, for someone who can't feel a thing, I can't know what someone's writing on my back.
"Don't move...!" he exclaimed, wearing a focused expression while writing. "I'm almost done..."
"...Understood."
I guess asking him for anything is futile...
After a minute, it seems he finally stopped writing. "All right," he laughed. "I'm finished."
I turned around and asked what did he write but as expected, he ignored me. He then started making a paper airplane with the same paper he used to write with. Just by looking at it, you could tell it won't fly even a meter.
"Here," he said, handing me the rather flimsy paper airplane he made.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
From a distance, Sergeant Charlotte was among a group of soldiers discussing something. "See Charlotte over there?" Ken said, pointing at Sergeant Charlotte.
