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17

17

After that unnerving experience, I'll admit to be glad for Tate telling me to continue with my research. It only took me a few moments to find Marshal in the common room. He was resting in a worn armchair with a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. I tried to ignore it, my eyes have been too focused on people's mouths today. My nose tingled from the smell as I approached him. After explaining Tate's idea, he sat up straighter and stubbed out his cigarette.

He reached into his pocket and revealed a pen along with an extremely crumpled looking piece of paper.

"Always smart to be prepared," he murmured under his breath as he unfolded it in front of himself.

"Bet you I can find out some of your secrets," he said with a wink.

He shifted in his eat and stared ahead of him. Then, his eyes rolled back in his head and he began to mumble to himself. A tremor rocketed through his body as his hand scribbled away. Just watching him encouraged my own quivering legs. The whites of his eyes captivated my attention.

He sunk back into the chair with his arms draped at his sides. The sheet of paper slowly floated to the ground graciously. Marshall gave me a weak smirk and drawled, "Tell me if I'm right."

Squatting, I collected the page of writing and translated its scrawl. A fierce low smacked my stomach. How did he know that? I never told anyone that! My shock and embarrassment must have been screaming on my face, judging by Marshall's howl of laughter. 

There were only two more people left to speak to. The thought of one seemed unbearable, but the other isn't due to arrive for another few hours. Desperate to push off the inevitable, I begrudgingly dragged myself to the kitchen. As I walked inside, I was greeted by the sight of herself making a sandwich. A tense quiet dawned over the room the room. I grabbed a tin off the counter and pulled it open. The metal cackled as it scraped against itself. The screech pinged in my ears, forcing me to wince.

An irritated sigh came from beside me. Clanging her utensils down, Beth turned to face me.

"Tate told me that I was to show you my abilities, but I'm a busy person," she said in a monotone.

"Okay, that's fine," I replied through gritted teeth. She pivoted back to her meal.

"I can see colours around people, tells a lot about them."

Colours? What does that mean?

She picked up sandwich and took a large bite out of it. Striding to the door, she glanced at me over her shoulder. "Those people you came with, they've got a good colour."

With that, she let the room, her footsteps echoing after her.  

What does having a good colour even mean?

I began to wander with my food in hand. As I approached one room, sounds of chattering and laughter grew louder. Even from a distance, it was not difficult to recognise who the voices came from. I pushed the door open, tucking the can close to my body.

Sam and Emily faced each other but they weren't still. Instead, they darted towards and around each other, grabbing at each other. Their feet squeaked along the floor as breathy laughs and comments came from them.