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Meg is bored.
And still contagious.
And bored.
And covered in calamine lotion, which only does so much for the itching and clashes rather dreadfully with her hair.
And bored.
She eyes her pile of books without anything that could be called enthusiasm, turning the three bracelets on her wrist around, idly.
And then stops, as her fingers find the one link on bracelet from Laura that is heavier than the others.
She hesitates for a moment and then taps the communicator on her wrist that she's never needed to use in the more than two years she's worn it every day.
"Laura? Are you there?"
And still contagious.
And bored.
And covered in calamine lotion, which only does so much for the itching and clashes rather dreadfully with her hair.
And bored.
She eyes her pile of books without anything that could be called enthusiasm, turning the three bracelets on her wrist around, idly.
And then stops, as her fingers find the one link on bracelet from Laura that is heavier than the others.
She hesitates for a moment and then taps the communicator on her wrist that she's never needed to use in the more than two years she's worn it every day.
"Laura? Are you there?"
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And then, a little more hesitantly --
"Maybe it is better not to talk?"
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"Or at least not to talk much."
She takes several sips of water.
"So what will you do? About Hope and Tomas and everything?"
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"Yet."
Beat.
"But I will tell you. When I do."
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"Good.
"And if you want to talk about it along the way, we will."
Even if Meg has to resort to rely on hand gestures and charades.
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She sounds absolutely certain of that. Because she is.
And right now, it is quite likely that X's smile is not at all a trick of the light.