Discoveries | TMR | Three

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Once the gathering had come to an end, an in an attempts to calm his nerves after, yet another, screaming match with Thomas, Matt had taken himself away to the very edge of the harbour for a little post-meeting therapy, or so he likes to call it.

He tends to frequent the place in which he feels most content, and it just so happens to be the exact same location his truck is kept. In an old hut that was once a repair shop for all the boats lined along the pier, where it is almost entirely closed off from the rest of the camp, save for a shutter wall that had been destroyed long before they arrived.

It sits by the edge of a tall, man-made, concrete cliff that overlooks the ocean, with a rocky pool at the bottom, big enough to swim in, but small enough to not pose a real threat to anyone who cannot swim. Inside, there are two, worn out, red leather sofas positioned on the far-right, metal cupboards in every corner with more tools than Matt knows what to do with, and a big empty space in the middle for his truck.

It is where he can be found most days – apart from when he is sleeping, eating, training or hunting down some poor unsuspecting guard at a Wicked compound, that is.

As of right now, he leans halfway under the hood of his pick-up truck, up to his elbows in grease, with the sun beating down upon his back to keep him warm, yet a soft, ocean breeze fluttering past his spine to keep cool. Maggie and Daniel are sat on one of the couches at the back, their eyes and attention locked deeply on Mary's old map.

A grunt of exasperation barrelling in his eardrums causes him to jolt. He just manages to narrowly avoid striking his head on the underside of the hood when he notices Nicks seemingly furious figure stopping just short of the truck.

''Shit'' he instinctively grumbles, but not because he has been injured in any way, but rather from the sheer shock of his sudden presence right beside him. His head hunches, and his hand flies up to soften the blow, forcing the tips of his knuckles to catch the brunt of the metal rim, and allowing the back of his skull to duck away from it.

Nick is oblivious to the curse word that tumbles from the blondes mouth. "I swear to shit, that girl gets on every nerve I have" he spits, crossing his arms over his chest huffily and planting his backside on the metal rim of the cars open window.

Matt does not need to ask who he is talking about. "What did she do now?" His question comes out monotone, and he does not bother diverting his attention from his current task.

"She's just... ugh!" the brunette starts, drawing his parted fingers up to his head and gently digging them into his skull. "She's just so frustrating!" He flings his hands back out, and downwards until they smack against his thighs. "Okay, so" he continues, shifting himself to lean on his left side, "you know that vial? That one we found at the compound with the red... shit in it?"

"Yea" Matt mumbles absentmindedly.

"Well she's like... weirdly obsessed with it now" Nick tells him. "We were all talking about what it could be or what it's for, and she just kept... staring at it. Biting her nails and stuff like she- I don't know. And then! Then, she fucking... volunteered herself to try it! To take the needle and stick it directly into her bloodstream! Well, obviously I couldn't let that happen, and-"

Matt continues to listen to Nicks tirade as he fiddles with the trucks mechanics. If it were any other Glader, he would have surely told them to piss off by now, but these past two months have forced an unlikely friendship between the two boys, and now, he finds himself paying attention to each and every one of Nicks rants regarding a certain redheaded girl.

He is unsure why, especially considering the fact that he finds every other Glader absolutely insufferable, but he listens.

Maybe it is because Maggie has taken a liking to him, and in an act of subconscious jealousy, Matt has taken Nick under his wing. Maybe he is trying to fill the void that was left when Travis was taken, and Nick was the best option. Or, maybe it is simply because his and Adeline's spats are just so incredibly and hilariously daft that he cannot help but listen.