♱ Equalia Falls ♱

CHAPTER 4 - GILBERT

Warren noticed that everyone had been gathered into the library. They must have been cleared out after my whole spectacle, Warren thought, sluggishly opening the door, and immediately at least five pairs of eyes were on him. He cowered in the arched doorway, the door slamming shut behind him, and he nodded in greeting, quickly sifting through the patients and tall wooden shelves. The library, a vast room with shelves to the ceiling, was peppered with bean bags, couches, and desks. It was also one of the only rooms in the Institute which didn't actually have a ceiling—instead, the ceiling was the rock in which the Institute was built in, carved with a few flower patterns.

Peter waved Warren over, hogging a beanbag all to himself. The kid's knees had gained a few scabs, and he shoved a book in Warren's face. "Warren! Check this out, it's a book by my dad!"
Warren was taken aback, squinting to see the name Howard G. Tonkins on the bottom of the leather cover. The book, The Three Lives of Evelyn Gatsby, fell to the floor as Serviteur Hannah walked over, holding a finger to her lips. "Quiet, please."

Warren noticed a table of children scribbling on paper behind Hannah and nodded at Peter, gesturing to the activity. "Well?"

"Well what?" Peter whispered, watching Hannah return to the table. He shook his head. "Nah, their crayons are useless." Peter whipped out a piece of paper from behind him, featuring an incredibly well-drawn picture of a very chubby kitten. The feline had a very childish look to them, although the ears and mouth could use some work. Warren took the paper from Peter's hand and inspected it thoroughly. "Woah, this is amazing. Whose cat is this?"

"That's Gilbert, my cat," Peter said proudly, but his look of pride faded. "I miss him."

"Aw. Did you have to leave him behind?" Warren asked, turning the paper to see where Peter had tested the crayons. "You're right, by the way. Those crayons look useless."

Peter didn't respond. "I wanted to pet Gilbert before I left but he bit me and ran away. I didn't catch him."

"Oh," Warren faltered, before feeling a pang of sympathy for Peter. Warren had a puppy once upon a time, but the poor thing was stolen after a few weeks and Warren hadn't seen her since.

Warren reached out to pat Peter on the back. Peter perked up, seemingly very surprised at the comforting, but he took back his paper, folding it up into his pocket.

"Hey, Warren," Oliver whispered, making Warren jump. "Fishing was cancelled. They thought some chemicals in the water made you faint."

Warren cringed at that, running his fingers over the spines of the books on the shelf. He did that a lot. The feeling of things lightly tickling his hands gave him a nice, warm fuzzy feeling.

"That's ridiculous. But I guess I can't really blame them. I'm not sure what it was, either."

"It was a shame, too," Oliver snickered, his eyes flashing as if he were about to drop the best punchline of all time. "I hooked a giant tuna."

"Oh no," Warren covered his face. "Did you manage to reel it in or..?"

"No, they made me let it go because it was urgent," Oliver sighed, "It's not your fault."

Soon, it was time for dinner. As everyone gathered into the Dining Hall, Warren sat down with Natasha, Marissa, Peter, a very disgruntled Aaron, and someone else; a man with brown hair, slanted eyes, and an oddly familiar face.

Warren tipped his head to the side, expecting this new person to introduce himself, but he only looked at Warren, smiled, and continued sipping his water.

"Who's that?" Warren whispered to Aaron, who only sighed and twiddled his fingers. "Owen Davidson. The do-gooder."

"Oh." So this is who Oliver idolises, then. He looks alright. Warren chugged his water, eyeing the man. It wasn't that Owen wasn't good-looking (Warren would say he was about a ten on the metre) but he just... radiated approachableness. Like a puppy. It was like he wasn't even real.