Who: Marco & Kiley & OPEN (Multiples welcome!) When: Around noon Where: Lodge living room, off to wherever Marco chases people
Marco sat on the stairs, tapping the back end of a Sharpie to his lips, deep in thought. He hadn't been able to find an empty book or a notepad, so he'd stolen a roll of paper towels and had started his own notebook, each sheet with any notes he could get from people about their health, and their medical history, and how they'd been feeling for the past few weeks. It wasn't neat, and he was pretty sure that he looked nuts, but this was too important.
While it had kind of become an unspoken rule to mostly ignore notes from TPTB, today's "facts" had rattled Marco more than usual. Maybe it was because he was already stressed by what Lucy had been doing, or maybe it was just the act of getting settled once again, but he couldn't keep the paranoid thoughts out of his head. Normally he knew he was susceptible to this, but today, it seemed rational, and he couldn't understand why more people weren't taking this seriously. So far, a couple people had humored him, but others were entirely dismissive. Hell, Scotty had run out into the fog just to end the conversation. That probably should have been telling.
Marco flipped the pen around as he surveyed his notes, then tapped the marker to his lips again, this time drawing a couple green dots on his upper lip. He didn't seem to notice.
He wasn't sure how many people he still had to go with his questioning, but he felt like he'd know exactly who the sick person was if he just asked the right questions. He had to, right? They'd have to be showing symptoms for Them to take notice. Right? If he didn't figure it out, someone would die. That was unacceptable.
He also couldn't shake the fear that he'd completely missed that it was him. Anyone could get sick, but as far as he knew, he was the only one who'd been injecting shit from TPTB directly into his veins. He didn't know what the state of those needles were, he'd just gone with it. It had never really mattered when he was getting high, because no matter what, he'd end up high. Being sober and thinking about consequences wasn't nearly as fun.
But it probably wasn't him. It was probably self centered of him to think that it was. His voices told him as much, though they'd also put the idea in his head in the first place.
That was just for him to know, though.
As deep in thought as he was, it was cut off when he heard a door open, though he hadn't been paying close enough attention to notice if it was a main door, or the kitchen, or the hallway? It wasn't the cat door, he was sure of that. It didn't matter, as he saw movement just a moment later, and he jumped up, already bounding towards whoever it was who was just walking by, paper towels and marker in hand.
"Hey!" he cried. "Hey, hey hey hey, hey. Can I, um, can I just ask you a few questions real quick? I just need to ask you a few questions real quick."