"Do you need any help?"

That was probably the fifth time you'd asked that question as another clatter arose from the direction where the man had disappeared, presumably the bathroom, since he'd ushered you inside. It was dark since he'd been in such a rush that he'd forgotten to turn on all the lights. You were simply seated on a small stool and could only look after the man at a frame of light around a dusky rectangle also known as a door.

Only the light from another room that'd been left on beforehand that slipped through another cracked door offered you any ability to see in the murkiness. Did he really care that much about your well being, or was he simply scatterbrained?

"Got it!" came the triumphant cry as the man came racing back with an arm full of different medical supplies. You wondered where he got his energy from when you could hardly be bothered to put on pants in the morning.

"Alright then, hold still, okay? I don't wanna screw up or something..."

He trailed off as he dribbled Hydrogen Peroxide across the wound, the liquid fizing up immediately afterwards and he began wiping it off with a small rag to clean off the blood while the Peroxide killed the germs.

"So what's your name, ma'am?" he asked, attracting your attention from his fluffy looking hair to your knee again.

"(Y/N)," you replied softly, watching the blood that had started to dry now be cleaned off. It really didn't look bad at all. The blood just made it look worse.

"That's a pretty name," he mused. "Mine is pretty plain. It's Mark."

"Mark?" you echoed, running the name across your tongue. The name sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite remember why. The memory was right on the tip of your teeth, but you couldn't quite reach it.

"Yup, that's me!" he replied chirpily. Was everyone in this town happy? "So what brings you here? I haven't seen you around."

You managed to shrug as thoughts about your mother and moving played through your mind, like how stressful it was and about all you'd managed to loose in the last month.

"I just needed a new start so I moved down here from Oregon by myself."

"Really? No one else came with you?"

"My mother recently passed and my last boyfriend dumped me so yeah, on my own."

You were looking down at your hands and so didn't notice him stand up and hold his arms out, enveloping you in a strong, yet gentle hug. It took you by surprise and you tensed at the sudden contact, but you wouldn't lie and refuse to admit that it felt good. You fit perfectly into his teddy bear embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly. "No wonder you're so down. No one this pretty should be this sad."

"It's fine, Mark," you reassured him, patting him awkwardly on the back. Was that a complement? And about your looks? You weren't used to those at all, despite having a boyfriend before all this. You weren't sure how to react. "I'll be fine."

He let go and looked at you seriously. "Alright, but I'm still gonna check up on you. You live right above me, right? Second floor? I thought I saw you this morning exiting that apartment when I was pulling in."

You blinked surprisedly. "I had no idea you had such a good memory."

"When you play games and record it for a living, you tend to work your brain a lot," he said, chuckling and kneeling once more at your knee. He took a gauze pad and placed it over the now clean cut and gently wrapped a small ace bandage around it.

"There! All better!"

You quickly stood, finding your rather small stature of about 5'3" just a little under his. You guessed he was about 5'9" maybe? 6' at a stretch. There's no real way for the writer, er you mean, you to ask without coming across all weird.

"Well, thank you, but I really should be going its late and I have work tomorrow," you said lamely as an excuse, stepping towards the door.

"But its only eight in the evening," he said almost sadly. "I still haven't been able to pay you back the dinner I owe you." The last thing you needed was to have dinner with a strange new man tonight. You really just wanted to sleep since you were tired from the day and having to be, dare you say, social again.

"It's alright; it was left overs from the Café, anyway. Totally replacable."

"Alright, if you have to then I guess I'll let you go. But I'll see you again tomorrow!" He perked up after that and flashed a big smile in your direction. "Maybe I'll order something from ya and leave a nice, big tip for ya!"

You smiled softly and shook your head. "If you say so. Anyway, bye Mark. It was real nice to meet you. Thanks for dressing my knee for me."

And with that, you walked out of the door. You spotted the now brown spot near the stairs on the ground and the food everywhere and decided to clean it up tomorrow morning, feeling tired and worn out from your day of acting. You still had to remove your now useless jeans and replace the bandage with something that was more likely to stay on, like vetwrap or something. Combine, perhaps?

Everything was just as you'd left it-- entertainment center with the TV on the left with the loveseat facing it, kitchen straight ahead, bedroom on the left, bathroom attached to that. The cot was in the bedroom where you'd left it with the box of memorabielia from your childhood and family under it. The coffee Brewer was in the kitchen.

It was all in its place.

You walked to the bathroom, removing the bandage Mark had wrapped around your knee and peeling off your jeans to rewrap the wound with vetwrap and the same gauze since you didn't have any more before tossing the pants in the trash bin. You had a natural aversion to torn jeans.

Returning to the bedroom, you sat down, running the events of the day through your head one last time. You had a job, a friend maybe, and Mark... Was he your friend? He was nice and warm, but what constitutes as a friendship? Is it being nice to each other or actually hanging out and being close like siblings? You weren't sure. The last month had kicked around your emotions so much, you felt socially awkward, like you were a vase and had broken, the wrong pieces being put back together in places they didn't belong, in places it didn't feel right any more, so you felt more upside down than ever as a result.

Shaking your head, you plugged in your phone before changing clothes. You had ten outfits that you'd brought with you. A dress your mother had given you, four sleeping clothes, and five day clothes. You'd have to wash them soon. All but the dress, of course. It was Thursday.