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“And, last thing before I leave, there’s a missing kid, and she may have run this way,” Miss Pauling explained as she finished up her yearly briefing. “Keep an eye out, boys.”
“Understood. Thank you, Miss,” Engineer said. “All y’all are dismissed, then.”
Everyone stood up, dispersing around the common room. Medic waited for Miss Pauling and engineer to leave before turning back to the others who had stayed at the couches.
“A missing persons case? I’ve heard of these, but I’ve never been near one!”
How in character, treating such a big deal like one would a new toy. Surely he had to know how important it was, right?
“Medic, do not joke about this,” he said. “Just imagine how this must be for the poor girl’s parents.”
Medic pouted. “Sorry, I’ll be morbid then. You all love that.”
“You do not know what it is like, do you?” Spy scoffed. “I would expect no less from you. No empathy, nor sympathy.”
“Ja? Then what do you know about this?” Medic asked. “You never tell us anything, so how am I to know if you’re the same?”
“My best friend went missing when I was seventeen, idiot. He came to me the night before, and I didn’t tell anyone about it.” Spy looked off past everyone to the wall, fading back to the night he’d watched his only love run off with blood under his nails.
Medic had gone eerily still, staring at Spy like he’d finally found the puzzle piece he’d been missing for who knew how long. He cursed, then stood. “I need to leave,” he mumbled. “See you all at dinner. And… Es tut mir leid, Aurelein.”
Spy’s head whipped up at the name, but all he saw was Medic’s retreating back.
He called me Aurelein.
No one alive should know that name.
But he does.