"<span style="font-style: italic">... M... Miss</span>?"<br/><br/>Marcial's tone seemed rather urgent, his blood freezing over just as Nit's did. Not knowing the circumstances at first, he began to worry immensely. She's surely dead, he thought. No, oh no, she's passed, she's passed. He seemed to have forgotten that comas were actually a thing that existed and affected people, or that heart monitors made noise. He had not come with basic medical knowledge, after all. What else would he have thought other than death?<br/><br/>Suddenly, a woman. A fleshed-out woman walked in the room. She must have answers, surely. Why else would she be here? Answers, dammit, give them to the poor man this instant!<br/><br/>Marcial let out a deep sigh of relief as Nurse Roberts spoke. The hope that was snatched from him when he realized that Axe would not respond was rightfully retrieved for him by this lady's words, even if she did say that Axe might not awaken from her unconsensual slumber.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">I assume you don't have an approximation as to how long she's to remain like this,</span>" Marcial mumbled, clasping his hands nervously. "<span style="font-style: italic">By god, I'd never thought it'd be this severe...</span><br/><br/>Marcial perked up from hearing that Axe supposedly had fans here. Hell, he did not even know that Axe even<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>fans to begin with. Go figure.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">I mean...</span>" Marcial thought about Nurse Robert's question for a short moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "<span style="font-style: italic">I recall Penelope saying that she worked at a night club... She was, um... Matías, what was Axe's profession again?</span>" His eyes climbed passed the nurse to peer over at his lord, who was slouched on the left side of the doorway with their arms folded, careful as to not crush the flowers or sweets and looking all solemn and whatnot.<br/><br/>A dull eye rolled Marcial's way, a shadowy hammock tied to its ends. "<span style="font-family: courier;">She sings,</span>" the lord replied, their voice coarse like sandpaper and chilling like General Winter, the sort of voice that said 'don't talk to me or I'll slit your throat' without using any of the necessary words, as if their stare was not enough.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">... OK,</span>" Marcial reluctantly replied, focusing back on the nurse. "<span style="font-style: italic">Perhaps fans of that. But how did they know that she... Ah, forget it. Trivial question. I'm more worried about her well-being.</span>" He nodded and smiled at the nurse to reassure her.