IC CONTACT for ximilia.

[shadysided]

// ziggy

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XIMILIA

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delivery; 2/15

[homeostatic]

( If Ziggy's intending to lock herself away again, she's not doing so without food so, he's brought her a covered tray with half a sandwich, a cup of soup, apple slices and something to drink.

Knock, knock. )

[shadysided]

[Ziggy doesn't respond at first; McCoy will have to do another series of knocks before she relents, opening the door a crack to peer out from the dimly lit space behind her. Wariness morphs into exasperation the moment she locks eyes with him.]

I don't need room service. Shouldn't you be in bed resting?

[Defensive teenaged responses are a-go.]

[homeostatic]

( Lightning fast: )

Should be, but someone's makin' me wait. ( He's quick to give her a once-over, then nods behind her, gesturing with the tray. ) Scoot, so I can put this down.

[shadysided]

[She steps to the side, mostly because she knows McCoy is as stubborn as she is — and she really, really doesn't have the energy to battle him for hours until someone relents. The room is pretty bare, and terribly immaculate. A calendar with a number count on the passing days hangs on the wall next to a small desk with a small pile of young adult books. Wrappers for easy to eat rations fill one lone trashcan, and a small, neatly folded pile of clothes sit on a small shelf. The clock at her bedside is set to go off on a timer at 2:00 PM for lunch.

Ziggy stands with her arms folded, lips thinned.]

You brought food. Cool.

Now you should go get back into bed before you pull something, old man.