teenage wasteland ;; the maze runner

2.21

it was funny how, almost as soon as they got to the top of those stairs, whatever childish energy they'd had just moments before was instantly gone. just as soon as they remembered there was a possibility that they weren't safe, the jokes, the prods, the teasing, it all disappeared, and they were left with their survival instincts. nothing more, nothing less.

    the room was empty, minus one man who stood in the midst of his clutter. all sorts of different pieces of random technology decorated the room, and the chaos was almost warm in a weird way. a radio hummed in front of him, distant voices cutting in and out as the man tried to listen.

    when the woman tried to introduce the, "jorge, they're here," the only response jorge gave was a hush before he whispered, "quiet."

    the radio was up against his ear, trying to change the frequency without losing the signal, but it was no use. after a few moments of fiddling with the knob, the sound became nothing but static.

    he exhaled a long breath of disappointment, one that florence knew well, and she quietly hinted to antony to put her down now that they were in the middle of the room. she hit his shoulder softly, clearing her throat, and he let out a small, "oh!" before he placed on her feet on the ground.

    as soon as she was standing next to him, sammy was quick to join the two and stand between them. in another world, they surely looked like two young parents with their adopted young child while the world was ending. of course, florence would've picked a better portrait pose.

    then, just as they settled down, jorge began to turn around to cast his weary gaze on them. he was a worn down man, that much was clear, and he looked not only tired, but wise, too. like he'd seen quite a few years, and he knew damn well he'd see decades more to come.

    it was weirdly easy for florence to tell when someone was a survivor. they just held themselves in a different way, stronger yet not too confidently. almost humble, but not because they were humble people. they just... don't show their cards until they need to.

    a sort of, "i'm not left handed" move, to quote one of florence's parents' favorite movies.

    jorge looked at them for a moment before placing his hands on his hips. "do you ever get the feeling the whole world's against you?"

    she held back a scoff. only every second of every day.

    "three questions," he continued, walking towards them with a look of interest on his face. "where did you come from? where are you going? how can i profit?" when nobody seemed too keen on responding, he said, "don't all answer at once."

    thomas swallowed. "we're headed for the mountains," he started. "looking for the right arm."

    as soon as those words left his mouth, laughter echoed across the room, and florence felt stiff. "you're looking for ghosts, you mean," jorge corrected, an almost pitiful smile on his face, before taking a sip of water.

    "question number two," jorge continued, taking yet another few steps towards them, "where did you come from?"

    minho was quick to answer this one, a cautious look on his face as he said, "that's our business." while minho wasn't wrong to keep the information quiet, florence instantly knew that response was not going to get them in jorge's good graces.

    she seemed to be correct, because without another second to lose, each of them were grabbed by a different stranger, held tightly against their chests as thomas was leaned forward. the woman stood up, a weird tool in hand as she moved his jacket out of the way and placed the tool against the back of his neck.