"Are the communists behind this?"
"No."
"So our government lied?"
"Our government is behind this!"
Did Scarlett think she would be involved in a huge...
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"A soldier so brave he doesn't need a gun. He can keep the whole world safe." -Clara Oswald ｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡* ∞*⍋⋆*❅｡
"Good morning Paul, can I get you anything?" Scarlett asked, warm smile on her face. She had her hair pulled back in a fluffy ponytail. She wore a white blouse underneath a pink sweater vest, paired with some light-wash jeans.
An old-looking young man lay in the bed. A large purple spot covered part of his left cheek and he was nestled underneath a blanket one of the volunteers had brought by. "Don't you have a class to get to, miss?" he questioned, doing his best to sit up for the young woman.
Scarlett shook her head. "It's Saturday." she rested her hands on her hips and looked at the notebook by Paul's bedside. The Buddy House had developed its own ways of charting information for those residing in the houses. But there was only so much mostly untrained people could do for those very ill people.
"Oh, I see..." Paul trailed off before a coughing fit befell him. Scarlett jumped into action, helping him sit up a bit and grabbing a bucket from beside the bed, ready for if the coughing turned into vomiting. "I'm sorry," Paul lamented, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"No need," Scarlett murmured, she rubbed Paul's back. "Has anyone been by?" she pressed, looking at the vase by Paul's bedside. The flowers in the vase were a gift from Julian, another volunteer at the Buddy House. Paul's gaze dropped slightly before he forced a smile.
Paul looked up at Scarlett. "I have all of you," his voice cracked. His roommate was in the park with his partner. The other frequenters of the Buddy House included a steady stream of volunteers, such as Scarlett herself, and a handful of visitors and part-time residents. Paul lacked in the visitor's department, sadly, he was not a rare case.
"Scarlett?" the head of a woman with an afro styled into a star shape popped through the door. "Heya Paul," the woman winked at the man, who smiled warmly in reply. "You've got a phone call." Joan leaned against the door and crossed her arms. "Paulyboy, want a ring pop?" Joan's lids and tone dropped. She looked around suspiciously, plump lips curving into a coy grin. She pulled her jacket open to reveal a ring pop in her inner coat.
Without an answer, Joan tossed the man the ring pop. Paul caught it and put it on his finger. "Our parents would be so proud, a proper couple." Paul stuck out his tongue and put the candy in his mouth. Joy glistened and danced on Paul's face.
Scarlett filled Paul's glass with some water from the jug on the dresser. "When's the wedding? I can be the witness," she mused. "In all seriousness, you don't need anything?" she quirked a brow at the frail man, and he shook his head, urging her to go.
