My mind wandered back to her odd statement.
The ‘art of knives’ huh? Who called it that nowadays? A really obsessed archaeologist? A martial arts instructor?
Maybe I would ask some people who were less strange.
I went over to the bar counter to find some people who would actually answer my question. I took up a position between the blonde haired woman and the blonde haired man.
“So, who do you think is the assailant? Could you tell me what do you think their method and objective is?” I requested.
The blonde haired man looked very suspicious. “What assailant? What objective?” He narrowed his green eyes and looked around wildly.
This nearly caused me to snort, but I quickly covered it up with a cough, and the blue haired man gave an immature giggle that he didn’t even try to hide.
“The assailant? I wouldn’t know. Maybe someone is hiding on the train or something… Dunno.
Their method seems very confusing though… Frontal assault, maybe?
Objective is probably to cause panic- maybe a terrorist…” The blue haired man noted thoughtfully, completely leaving the blonde haired man in the dark. “This is my friend, Ray. . .
Can I call you that?”
” Ray screamed, as he slammed his fists against the table; causing utensils and plates to fly off the counter, and a lot of nearby folks to glare at him for disrupting their orderly dining.
“Whoever attacked that poor woman obviously… Kind of gross…” The woman remarked, wrinkling her perfect nose,
as she poked about her now ruined meal with the tip of her right pointer finger “You ‘re telling me you haven’t seen her yet? I thought everyone rushed over to the doctor at that time.
As for who’s suspicious, he is!” She jutted a thumb out at the blue haired man. “He called the assailant a murderer twice and no one’s died!”
“Me!?” the blue haired man burst out in utter disbelief and outrage. “So I accidentally called them a murderer! What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“That means that if someone dies, then you’re going to be the number one suspect!” she declared.
“And why are you telling me this?” he countered, looking quite irritated for someone who was in a good mood a second earlier.
She gave him a death glare. “So you know that I consider you untrustworthy!” She stabbed her fork back into her appetizer and left it there as she stormed out the hall.
He knitted his eyebrows in confusion, shrugged, and went back to eating his food as if nothing just happened.
I decided to brush it off and go back to my seat before I caused any more chaos.
Nearly a minute after I sat back down, Walter came back very quickly, carrying a rustic looking tray topped with plates and bowls.
“What’s your name?” I asked the woman.
“Hmm? You want to know my name?” she clarified.
“Ann Powell. Call me Ms. Powell. I’m unmarried.” she explained.
“Of course you are.” Walter noted dryly, then rushed away before Ms Powell could figure out what he meant.
I dug into my turkey sandwich, savoring the unusual taste of the seasoning. It was satisfyingly sweet, but spicy.
I tasted something herb-like that was similar to chives, which was a strange choice to put on a turkey sandwich. As I bit into a tomato, I felt an odd empty feeling in my stomach.
It grew, and I wondered why I felt so hungry. I had eaten a decent breakfast of waffles and eggs. Then the hunger turned to pure pain, like a billion needle jamming themselves into my stomach.
I clutched my torso and excused myself from the table.
At the same time I stood up, another man bolted out the room, half limping, half jogging. He too, looked like he had stomach pains.
Hadn’t someone attacked a woman on the way here? Had they poisoned the food? The blonde haired man I had been talking to earlier collapsed and fell out of his seat, twitching like a dying bug.
A woman with coppery brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail followed me. “Wait! Mr. uh- whoever you are! I can help you! I’m a doctor!”
I collapsed anyway, whether I wanted to make it to my room or not. I saw her unscrewing the cap of a bottle and pouring a neon green liquid into my dry, cracked lips.
A bit trickled onto my cheek, and I tried to wipe it away with my brown sweater sleeve.
I had barely swallowed the medicine (as I assumed it was) when the needles vanished. Peace came over my warring system as the cool liquid coursed down my throat.
“Thanks.” I breathed, then gave in to the welcoming state of unconsciousness.