Who: Oliver & Marco When: A little after noon Where: Oliver's room
While Marco's mental state hadn't really improved since coming into Oliver's care, it had changed. After they'd gotten back to the house, Marco's bizarre, disorganized behavior had continued, even after he had napped. He had ended up stealing two of Oliver's shirts and wearing them over his own clothes, and the Stitch onesie had once again ended up with the hood over his head and the rest of it worn like a cape, though whether that made it more or less absurd was a matter of opinion. He had spent a long time checking the door, and once had to be talked out of trying to escape the house again via Oliver's balcony. Then, late in the day, he suddenly slowed down, and just stopped talking almost completely. Anything he was asked was answered with one word, and any sign of emotion had just stopped. It stayed that way until he curled up on the couch and went to bed.
Aside from a lack of desire to pull himself off the couch, and an hour where he could only speak in words that rhymed with 'two',Marco was handling this day a little better. Or, maybe he was just handling it more quietly. He hadn't changed his clothes, but he also hadn't yelled about people coming for him. It had hit him a little harder today that his reality and actual reality were a little confused, and it left him quiet, and sad, and tired. It seemed to him like the best way to pretend he wasn't schizophrenic, and therefor probably annoying to Oliver, was to just stay quiet and still, and hope his brain didn't get the best of him. Like with the whole rhyming thing.
"I should probably be in a hospital," he said softly as he tied the sleeves of the Stitch ones around his shoulders. His face stayed blank, but he was pretty sure the only emotion hidden behind that was exhaustion, anyway. That and irritation at the things that Oliver couldn't hear. "You're not a doctor. This probably isn't right."