Lost in Blue

𝕰𝖑𝖋: Turncoat

"You look a bit tired, Henning ..." Fräulein noticed, worry written across her pale face.

Henning lifted his head. Being with her on the first-name basis after the concert merely a month ago had become the new status - quo he would still have to get used to not feeling awkward about. Although he had to admit, his name rolled off her tongue quite nicely - it didn't sound as old-fashioned and coarse as he thought it would.

"I just stayed up a little longer last night. Don't worry about it," he reassured.

Having intensely worked on gathering important intel until 3 am, he imagined the dark circles around his eyes made themselves conspicuous. After the encounter a few days ago he simply couldn't afford to slack off.

"I know what might help. You like coffee, don't you? How about I go and get you some?" the blonde suggested, eager to help.

Dorn grimaced. He appreciated the offer, but unfortunately, his relationship with coffee had been tainted. Whenever he looked at a cup of said dark liquid he used to enjoy, it felt like being reminded of a certain unpredictable journalist jerk's existence.

Damn his hair color.

"I'm alright for now, danke." Henning resisted the urge to yawn and rub his eyes. "Do you need anything else apart from the usual? How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." She gave him a sad smile. "As fine as it can get being at the clinic."

"... Sorry."

She shook her head and put her hands up in defense. "Please don't apologize. It's not your fault I'm stuck here. Someone else in a similar situation like me has been stationed here as well, so I'm at least not alone."

"So you've heard."

Fräulein nodded. "A few kids told me they saw someone who looked like me being brought here."

"Kids?"

"Oh, in this clinic a few sick children roam around," she explained, "Herr Arzt was against them visiting me at first, but I told him he didn't need to worry. They're not bothering me in the slightest. They do pull my hair sometimes, though it is not intentional."

With her calm demeanor and caring nature, Henning wasn't surprised for Fräulein to be so popular among the children. The hospital's staff frequently had kept him updated about her well-being and praised her accommodating behavior – apparently she had offered to help out several times, even though she was a patient. He imagined how happy the nurses were that Fräulein lightened their workload by keeping the children busy.

Her fingers trailed along the white bed sheet, pensively.

"It's not like I have anything else to do here ..." she added, whispering. "The children are very nice. We spend a lot of time together singing and dancing, so they gave me mini portraits of myself as a present!"

She opened the bedside cabinet to proudly show Henning several pictures made by her fans. Some were poorly drawn stick-figures, others were more advanced versions of attempts to resemble her face. All children had made sure to illustrate her most prominent features – long, golden curls and blue eyes. Fräulein was mostly depicted singing or dancing, always surrounded by little ones copying her moves.

Henning smiled faintly. As cute and wholesome the gesture seemed at first glance, it was also a sad sight to think her only social contacts besides him were children. He became painfully aware he should have dropped by more often the last month, for her sake. She needed someone to talk to.

"I'm glad they seem to like you so much," he commented without voicing his concerns and handed back the pictures, "Hasn't Arzt introduced you to the salvaged person yet?"