Chapter Text
Grace didn't remember the details of getting interrogated. He barely remembered the questions. Before he knew it, he was back in the room. Still alone, still living in the memories that being taken had sparked. He laid down in the bed and stared at the wall until the door opened again.
He lifted his head and looked over at the door. Instead of seeing more unfamiliar people, he watched Simon get shoved in. Simon was bruised and his nose was bleeding. That got Grace out of his mind for the most part, and he hopped up. "Oh gosh. Simon, are you alright?" He went over, worried about Simon. The man was clearly beaten. But why? What had happened?
"'M fine." Simon muttered, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. "I should be asking you. They didn't do anything to you, right?"
Grace hesitated. He wasn't sure if he was alright, and he didn't know if he wanted Simon to know about what had happened to him. Everything that happened before Hail Mary were bad memories. Ones he wasn't sure he wanted to share yet. Not until he thought he could deal with it himself. "...Not really. I'm alright, for the most part. They drugged me and asked me questions. Not much else happened."
Simon relaxed a little, but still looked Grace over. Grace was still favouring his good leg, keeping most of his weight on it. Simon frowned. "What happened to your leg? You've been limping since we got here."
"Oh. Right." Grace glanced down at his leg. Then he rolled his pant leg up. The leg was a little scarred up, but the most obvious thing was that it was really crooked. Bent almost entirely outwards. "I, uh, had an accident as a kid. Never healed properly. Usually I have my cane or a crutch, but when I showed up in your sub I didn't have either."
Simon was staring intently at his leg. Surprisingly, he didn't see any disgust or pity in that gaze. In fact, all he saw was pure awe. It made him feel oddly warm. He wasn't used to people not acting negatively to his disability.
"...Your scars are so well-healed." Simon muttered, still staring.
"You think? I mean, I guess they're not that bad." Grace shifted awkwardly. "They did heal better than my chemical burns." He let his pant leg back down, tapping his foot on the ground. "Uh, are you sure you're okay? Your nose is still bleeding pretty bad."
There was a flash of disappointment in Simon's eyes when Grace's leg was covered back up, but he tried not to show it. "I also got asked some questions. One of my answers wasn't that satisfactory to them. Should've expected that, but I still answered right."
Grace frowned. He looked around, then grabbed the cleanest piece of fabric he saw. Everything was horribly dirty for how sterile the room itself was. He went over and gently dabbed at Simon's nose with the rag, trying his best to be careful.
Simon flinched at first, but quickly relaxed. He watched Grace closely. "...Thank you."
Grace smiled. "Of course. What else are friends for?" Mhm. Friends. Totally. What crush?
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Simon was used to people being strange. Everyone was strange where he's from. Everyone had some kind of strange habit or an odd quirk.
But Ryland was a special kind of strange.
He didn't want to bring it up, but Ryland's habits bordered on insane. Not unhealthy exactly, but.. Uncanny.
Ryland would make such weird sounds at time. Ones that humans probably shouldn't be able to make. Plus it felt like Ryland could see better than him. Half the time he'd find Ryland awake and working without the lights on. There was no way he'd be able to see in that low of lighting, right?
But the thing that disturbed Simon the most was his overdeveloped senses of smell and hearing. Ryland could tell such strange things apart so easily. Like when guards came to the door and he got ready to fight, Ryland would assure him that it was just food. And the one other time they actually had come for a different reason, Ryland had let Simon know. Not once had he been wrong.
It was confusing. Simon had even started to wonder if Ryland was even a human at times. If he was, then he was some special new genus or something. Whatever it was, Simon was painfully aware of it. He didn't want to feel unnerved by his only friend by any means, but it was close to impossible by now.
Ryland either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared to acknowledge it. He was still friendly, and he'd talk to Simon constantly while he worked.
Speaking of work, god Simon didn't understand at least half the stuff Ryland said. He tried to listen, but Ryland often talked too fast and said too many unfamiliar words for him to actually follow along properly. But regardless, he liked to hear Ryland talk because it was better than silence.
More often than not, he found himself staring at Ryland's leg. He remembered the scars, how well they had healed. It was hard to forget them, truthfully. Scars that healed cleanly were a sign of fantastic luck. At least to him. And clean scars were some of the most beautiful things he could think of. Ryland had also mentioned other scars, which Simon assumed meant the ones that he saw on the side of Ryland's face. He could guess they went down his neck and arm too.
Simon was tempted to ask about them, but he didn't want to pry. So he'd just admire them.
There was a lot to admire about Ryland. From his clean scars, well-maintained hair, and his incredible work ethic to his odd little habits. Ryland was an interesting person. So much to see and understand. So many questions to be asked should he ever feel like it was a good time. He wondered what else there was to know.
But for now, he'd stick to watching.