Hello, My Name Is: Death
I let him leave, and I didn't leave the room until five minutes later. I felt so sorry for Jerek, I felt like crying too. But I didn't. I gathered my mixed feelings, and I walked out of the room, past the group of talking people, through the double doors, and heard Tabra behind a curtin with H on it in a big black letter outlined in maroony-red. Shroppe's hospital room, definitely.
"Tabra?" I said, and he was bending over backwards, jumping up and down, running in place. "What are you doing?"
"Shropee fixed me!" He smiled.
"Ha, ha, I can see that. How?"
"I have this special gun, kind of like a glue gun, that shoots out healing liquids that go on gel and swell up like shaving cream. The ingrediants eat away the skin, go in and heal it, and speed the healing process from three to four weeks to sixteen seconds." Shropee said.
"Whoa! I need some of that."
"Not sold in stores," She said, and we laughed. "It's a special thing I do here for the alliance. Whenever you get wounded, since you are one of us now, I can heal you with this anytime. And, anywhere, if I'm on the job." She turned around and started putting stuff away.
"Where's Jerek?" Tabra asked.
"I'm not sure," I turned and saw Jerek coming back down the steps.
"Hey, Jerek," Tabra called.
"Hey, Tabra." Jerek came down and started talking to Tabra.
I left them to it, figuring I could help Shropee with her work. "Need help?"
"Yes, if you don't mind. Just file these according to color," She handed me a stack of papers in random different colors. "Then, if you are really good with orginization, file them under last name, alphabetically."
I laughed. "Got it, Shropee!"
I started filing away, and got pretty good at it too.