Re: In the trees: Mercy/David
To all intents and purposes - to the studied observer with a good sense of smell - there was indeed something off about David. He didn't smell like death, or dead things, but he did sometimes smell like cold soil, rime, a spill of fresh oil, like something that should not be. "As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions." He smiled, for the first time. "I'm nobody," he reiterated. "I don't think we've met. You might have a name. You might even say it." Proper introductions.
"I'm David. I'm not a huge party person." His smile was gently amused. He seemed to have warmed to the idea of speaking, blinking, and breathing, like a cold-blooded thing, gaining heat. "I came to see if everyone was alright, and they are, so that's good luck."