Adam shook himself, blue eyes fixing on the woman he was with before sliding off her face. "...Sorry." He murmured, looking around at his surroundings. Oh yeah...they were clothes shopping.
Nothing had been savable from the fire. The house had been completely gutted, nothing left, and declared completely structurely unsound. He didn't even have any photos left any more.
Unfortunately that meant no clothes for him as well. He was currently in a borrowed pair of jeans that were three sizes too big for him and a jumper that made him look more like a child, not helped by the bandages he still wore around his arms and hands. Although no lasting damage had been done by the fire, his skin was still incredibly tender.
"I was asking what sort of clothes you would like, Adam." The woman smiled at him. She was his social worker, the person taking care of him while he recovered in the hospital before he'd go...somewhere. He didn't know where - he had no other family to take care of him, no other possible guardians, but he'd be taken care of, he was sure.
"Um..." He shivered - not from the cold, the jumper was made out of rough, scratchy wool and was grating across his skin. "Soft." He said quietly.
The social worker nodded as they walked. "Any particular colour? Style?" She glanced down at the boy, who was walking with his bandaged hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. "Do you want the same style as before-"
"No."
The woman looked quickly at Adam, who seemed to shrink into himself. "Adam?"
The boy shook his head. "No, I...I want something different..." He chewed his lip. "C-can we just...look around?"
In the end, after a couple of hours shopping, the two sat in a coffee shop at the back surrounded by bags. Adam picked at his new top - a long-sleeved red and black striped jumper - and smiled a little. It was as far from what he used to wear as he could get, and it felt...comfortable.
No memories attached.
"Adam?"
Adam looked up, blue eyes wide. "Mmm?" He blinked, wrapping his hands around his cup. "What?"
"How're you feeling?" She smiled at him. "I know that's a bit of a silly question, but-"
"I'm fine." He cut in. "Just...weird."
"Weird? How?"
Adam looked around, frowning a little, cup held against his mouth as if he was trying to hide behind it. "...Feels wrong." He said at last. "...Mam and Daid should be here."
The social worker just nodded. What else could she do? The boy was just...staring at the table, holding his cup, his eyes dry.
Poor little mite.