Lyra was accustomed to being surrounded by faceless people, identifying them by sound and smell alone. Her gaze was downward and her hair further narrowed her field of vision. She did this for safety, but honestly, she hadn't been comfortable with eye contact from the start. So, the adjustment wasn't troublesome. Now, while quizzically facing him, Lyra was able to get a clear look at his face. Eugene was very masculine. Thick, straight eyebrows overshadowing his black narrowed eyes. Had a strong nose and thick lips surrounded by a five o'clock shadow. His short fohawk was unstyled, but not sloppy, befitting of his visage. His smile softened the aggressive features, making him quite handsome. His ebony eyes were twinkling at Lyra's interest, little crinkles formed at their edges.
"Dial it back, Gene." Ruben said flatly, without looking at either of them.
Did Ruben set him up for this? Did he notice that Lyra was always alone and forced one of his buddies to talk to her? He wouldn't actually patronize her like that, right? No, he wasn't fake like that. Ruben wasn't pushing the conversation, he wasn't monitoring Lyra as if he was expecting anything reaction from her either. Lyra studied his face and determined that Eugene's actions were probably of his own volition. God, since when was she this paranoid? She was never great at social interactions, but she wasn't an outcast before either. Maybe living with this half freedom was getting to her more than she thought.
Eugene carried on, ignoring Ruben's warning, "I mean I've seen you before, and I've heard some little tidbits here and there about the new Omega."
Lyra held her breath, glancing his way from the corner of her eye. How much did he hear? No, more importantly, how much has Ruben heard? If Ruben had reason to get worried over her, he would make a big deal about it. Then, even with the purest of intentions, he would blow her fragile cover. Again, why was she still here?
"Hell, I thought you were human at first. No offense." She'd heard that her entire life, there was no offense left to be had anymore. He continued, "But what I just saw now was real fire. You're holding back aren't you? Now you got me curious!"
Lyra sighed, this sounded like it may become bothersome. She didn' t mind making a friend. It would be rather nice, actually. But she wasn't confident she could maintain her nominal presence if she had more eyes on her. Eugene wasn't a ranking warrior, but he was an elite.
Remaining undeterred by Lyra's indifference, he added, "Let's hang out sometime, yeah? We could-"
He was cut off by Ruben's head jerk and warning growl. Eugene raised an eyebrow, like he was amused by the defiance. Shaking his head, he laughed it off.
"Not like a date, okay. This kill-joy can tag along. Just have a couple drinks?"
That's the first time Lyra ever heard Ruben referred to as a kill-joy. He was the exact opposite. Lyra giggled, it was absolutely absurd. Eugene's expression lit up, he didn't think it was that funny, but he was proud to have gotten such a reaction out of her.
Ruben smiled down at her carefree face then nodded his approval toward Eugene. He knew that Lyra wasn't making friends. He didn't know how she was before being locked up, but she had been in there much longer than him. He didn't want to push her, but living in solitude wasn't good for a wolf. She needed even the smallest sense of community. He often spoke of Lyra throughout his day, not with any meaning behind it, she was simply the person he knew best. She was the only consistent person in the last three-plus years of his life. Most of the warriors dismissed him, thinking it was a crush. But Eugene was different. He had taken a liking to Ruben and was intrigued by Lyra. He was an honest guy and more clever than he let on. It took a certain kind of person willing to break through Lyra's defenses and not be dissuaded by her silence. The introduction today was completely organic and he was excited to see if a friendship would blossom between them. Lyra would hit it off with Eugene well if she gave him a chance. He was trying to be optimistic that she would.
⥈
"How long has she been like this?" Doc gently placed his palm on Lyra's sweaty forehead.
"I'll be- ah! ...f-fine." Lyra tried to answer through gritted teeth.
"Hush!" Doc scolded her and turned to the woman standing near the door of the storage room with her arms crossed over her nightgown.
"Well, I don't know!" Her annoyance was thinly veiled, "It happens once or twice a week, I guess. She's fine by morning, and she says she's okay. So, we didn't want to trouble you. But it's getting worse. She's waking up the whole floor with her moaning and groaning!"
Doc scowled at the lack of compassion then angrily sent her out of the room. The woman, who began trembling from his dominating pressure, bowed and addressed him before leaving in a hurry.
"Goodnight, Delta Raymond."
He rolled his eyes and then gazed back at the writhing Lyra who was hyperventilating and curled in a fetal position. Her oversized t-shirt was drenched, and the sheets were damp and wrinkled from her thrashing. She was digging her nails into her sternum, clutching at her heart as if it would be better to rip it out of her chest rather than endure this pain.
After many visits to his clinic over the last three months, Doc had gotten to know Lyra a bit more than the other refugees. On first assessment, Ruben was in the worst shape, but those were recent wounds. Lyra had far more poorly healed old wounds. Re-breaking bones was no walk in the park, but she handled it without complaint. He was well aware of her outlandishly high pain tolerance. Therefore, that which caused her to writhe in this manner would likely cripple another werewolf, or at least cause them to pass out. In any case, he had diagnosed her as soon as he entered the room. There was not much he could do at the moment, and from the report he received, this wasn't her first or second time dealing with it.