<table width="100%"><tr><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-right:10px;"><span style="color: #E6E9FD"><span style="font-family: Nyala;"><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">As much as Chester wanted it to be a kind gesture, and as much as he wanted what the man said to be uplifting, it simply wasn't at that moment. Chester had quite a collection of stories, both personal and ones he's simply read or heard, of random acts of kindness and the positive effects they had. He loved telling them and blowing people's minds and witnessing them for himself, but this didn't feel like one. It's the same story as countless others; a stranger walking up and talking to 'x' man or 'x' woman and talking to them. But it seemed so plain. It didn't entirely encourage him, nor have have him suddenly realize a mere fact that had been holding him back. It was just empty words   that had fallen on his ears, even if the stranger physically went out of his way to come over and say it. It just didn't help. <br/><br/>Maybe it was because he was sick of people telling him everything was going to be okay, even though he clearly wasn't sick of it. Maybe it was the fact that people always said they hoped for the best instead of saying they'll try for the best, even though he always hoped and sometimes didn't try. Maybe it was just because he was angry. Perhaps it was because of the wound that was exposed when he now thought about his kids.<br/><br/> Funny thing, regret. Even when he was trying to be confused and angry over something else, it still reminded him. He couldn't even be mad about a stranger talking as if he knew what he was talking about. He was just mad at himself.<br/><br/>"Thanks." Chester spoke blankly, staring ahead of him for only a few moments before finally turning to the blonde man with a flicker of an emotionless smile. The comedian sniffed, again, using his wrist to wipe away any liquid strands that promised they would escape his runny nose. His finger flicked his brown cap up so it wasn't set on his eyebrows anymore, releasing a few strands of his bangs along with it. <br/><br/>The father knew that he sometimes talked a lot. He spoke when he didn't need to and often explained things far more than they should be explained. So he understood why someone might want to continue talking if they struck up a conversation with someone. But why was it that this particular person always wanted to talk to him when he clearly wasn't up for talking? It's just like when you're not on the phone and no one wants you, but as soon as you're on the phone, people need you for something. But Chester couldn't complain about the stranger, not at this moment. It was either listening to him talk or listening to his own thoughts talk. And out of the two, Chester preferred the former. <br/><br/>The subject wasn't even relevant to the hospital or injuries and accidents. At first, Chester wasn't even sure if it was relevant to Silent Hill or not. But the amusement park pulled it all together until it was now a semi-relevant topic. Go to the amusement park after the kids get out. A completely innocent way to change the subject. Amusement parks. Too bad that that cruddy amusement park was the reason he was here. A stupid amusement park. It was a kindly offered idea, and Chester did smile which was accompanied by a chuckle to amuse the man. However, he smiled more at the irony. The irony in the fact that the man was trying to change the subject, yet he only was digging a hole in the pre-existing one. But the man had one thing right. It was worth a visit. Even if it is a bad one.<br/><br/>Chester had a major sweet tooth, however. He was allergic to gluten so he couldn't eat some sweets he would like to have tried, but if he found a bag of any sort of candy that was free of digestive problems, he would eat the entire thing in a matter of minutes. And the way that the man spoke about the ice cream and the various other sweets made it sound like something he needed at this point.  Gluten in sweets was kind of like beer to him. He drank it either for the hell of it or when he was upset, and although it felt and tasted good at the time, later he had a hangover. Or in this case, lots of indigestion and various other problems. But man, a Butter Cake sounded absolutely delicious. "Oh yeah?" He smiled, which was noticeably more genuine. Although his eyes were still red, he didn't need to wipe them anymore. "I'll have to try it sometime." Another rather clogged chuckle. However, it was hard to understand his words as well because his accent was rather extensive due to his lack of effort to sound understandable to someone who probably had limited exposure to someone from Denmark. But then again, it was rather hard to understand anyone of any nationality, familiar with the accent or not,  right after they just got done sobbing their eyes out.</span></span></span></td><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-left:10px;"><span style="color: #E6E9FD"><span style="font-family: Nyala;"><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">Chester jolted at the sound of the doors slamming open, even though he could hear the sirens pulling up and the commotion the scene had brought outside. As the stretcher wheeled its way across the lobby and through the halls, the man folded is hands together again, peering down the halls even after they had gone. It was mainly to listen to the group exclaim for various items or for certain procedures to begin immediately, so on and so forth. Once they vanished entirely, Chester looked back at the stranger who had then stood up. It was a smart investment for the hospital to put a coffee machine there. They must make more from that little vending machine than from the actual medical help itself based on how often people who use it here, sitting and waiting for the news on their loved ones. Good thing it wasn't alcohol, though or else everyone would be piss drunk.<br/><br/>Chester turned his head to look at one of the few pictures that vaguely dot the hospital rooms and corridors. It wasn't the best picture in the world, but a small, hand painted scenic picture of the ocean wasn't entirely bad either. It was just the colours were rather dull and the entire thing was rather unremarkable. Just a plain picture in a much more simple frame. Looking at this picture and contemplating it is why Chester jumped when the stranger called his name. <br/><br/>At first, the comedian thought it was the lady at the desk, which is why he looked there first. But after looking at the man at the coffee machine, it was clear he was the one that knew his name, but Chester had no idea why. Upon first thought, Chester figured he might have overheard it when he was in the examination room or something, but that didn't make a whole lot of sense because he was probably fighting with the lady over there until the time Chester came out. He had completely forgotten about the videos he had posted. At this point in time, Chester hadn't done a comedy routine in years. Gosh, all those videos were posted back when he was- what- 19? Man, 8 years seemed like a long time. <br/><br/>Chester smiled over to the man, nodding with a soft laugh,"Yeah, that's me." Chester really had enjoyed doing stand up comedy. It didn't really pay well and it was rough to live off those earnings, especially when you were young and didn't have any other source of income, but it was a simple life. You went out and made people laugh. That's all it really was. Even though he slept in his car that was almost always on empty or had a flat tire, he enjoyed it. "I'm glad you like it." He mumbled, though with the since it didn't really make a difference,"Probably won't be anymore." He then offered coffee, which Chester thought about for a second too long.<br/><br/>Faint footsteps padded their way down from the hall and around the corner. Three children and a mother made their way to and through the lobby, the mother possessing a hostile scowl which was instantly directed to Chester as soon as he was visible to the family. There wasn't even a scoff nor a sniffle that came from any of the four. Chester on the other hand had started to slouch again, his head lowered like a dog about to be beaten by its owner. His eyes were glued to the ground and his hands fidgeted with each other. He could feel the sting of that scowl on his skin. It was like a lite cigarette being pushed through his head, so he bit his lip. There was a second when he briefly glanced up through his curtain of curly locks to spot the brightly coloured cast and stitches on the kid's face. It felt like a hammer to the face, and with his eyes welling up again, he looked back down until the door leading out of the hospital was opened and then closed behind them. <br/><br/>The fight in himself was audible as he fought back another wall of tears, placing his hands over his nose and mouth. He finally removed his elbows from his knees, leaning back in the chair and gripping its thin arm rests. There was a big huff, and the fight was done. However, silence ensued instead, making the ticking of the clock clearly audible again. After 17 seconds, according to that clock, Chester finally shook his head and sighed,"Sure." He clarified,"I'll take some coffee." He was going to need it if he was going to walk to the nearest hotel.</span></span></span></td></tr></table>