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Opening his eyes, Max peered up at Aimee, his expression going from groggy annoyance to startled surprise. He doubted she would recognize him -- their one and only run-in had been ages back, and very brief. Max had bumped into her, had made her drop some things, and had actually tried helping her pick up her things -- only to end up with a blue pen that they had both missed. Max couldn't really explain why
he had kept the pen, but he had told himself some time afterward that he would give it back -- if only to stop staring at it every day. He didn't know why the pen bothered him so much, but it did. He felt the sooner he got it back to the girl, the sooner he could be left in peace. Why he didn't just toss the pen out, or give it away... well, Max couldn't say why he didn't do either. For some reason the idea had never crossed his mind.
After a moment of gaping at Aimee, Max replied, "Uh, well, I wasn't really sleeping. Just had my eyes shut..." It didn't sound very convincing to his own ears, but at the very least, it was the truth. He wasn't sure what triage was, but he didn't want to sound like a complete idiot and ask about it. Instead, he tried to straighten himself up in his seat so as to look more awake than he had a moment ago. He hadn't realized she worked here... Max's understanding of hospitals was that only doctors and nurses worked here, and wasn't she awfully young to be either? Of course, he thought he vaguely recalled someone mentioning volunteers at a hospital, or was it volunteering? Either way, it was possible she didn't really work here, she just helped out in some way. Which still didn't make much of a difference. Max hadn't expected to run into her here.
As a matter of fact, he hadn't been sure he'd ever run into her again after that initial time. That should have been reason enough to get rid of the blue pen he had accidentally confiscated, but he hadn't. Now, here he was, face-to-face with her again, and he didn't even have the pen with him. It was back in his ramshackle apartment. It wasn't as though he had expected to run into her today, and although he had originally started out by carrying the pen with him just in case, he no longer did so as regularly. That was why the pen was back on his desk today. He hadn't thought he'd run into Aimee today, or any day. He also hadn't thought he'd end up in the hospital, but such was life. He was here, and now he wasn't sure what to do or say -- which, while normal to some degree, was also a first. The first being that he didn't think being his usual
self would be a good idea.
Max's eyes fell to the clipboard with the form he was supposed to fill out. He grimaced at the very idea. He hated paperwork, and he usually went out of his way to avoid it. He didn't want to wimp out completely and say he couldn't
fill it out, but it seemed that he didn't need to. Aimee solved his problem for him by saying she could fill it out on his behalf, but that also presented a problem. Max didn't know her very well, but for some reason he wasn't sure how to act around her. Answering questions might seem an easy feat, but he doubted it would be. What if she asked a question, he answered, and she decided he was some sort of idiot, psychopath, or worse? He didn't know why the idea bothered him, but it did. Still, he couldn't very well fill out the paper work on his own. It wasn't as though he could actually write on his own right now. Not with his hand in the condition that it was currently in.
"It's my writing hand," he admitted, pulling the injured hand into his lap as though he didn't want Aimee to inspect it. Was he going to have to tell her what he had done to injure his hand? Now that the possibility lay before him, Max had to admit that the whole event was starting to sound ludicrous even to himself -- and not that long ago he had been rather put out with the whole damn thing. "If it's not a lot to fill out, I can still do it. It's not like I have anything better to do, and the wait seems to be long anyway." A bit of his usual self finally shone through, which relieved Max immensely. He hated when he didn't sound like himself, or when he started acting like he was someone he wasn't. Besides, didn't he have every reason to sit here and grumble about being kept waiting? That had been why he had shut his eyes in the first place...
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