"Are you sure about this?" Minho asks. He is holding Newt's arm, in case something goes wrong.
"Yes. As sure as I'll ever be," Newt answers, sounding tense.
Minho glares at Alby, who is holding Newt's right arm, and then at Ben, who is holding his legs. Clint and Jeff are whispering nervously in the back of the room. Sometimes Minho hears a couple of words.
"...we don't even know what it is..."
"...this could kill him..."
"...maybe it's poison..."
The anxious murmur of the two Med-Jacks stresses him, though he's trying to hide it. Maybe he is going to lose another friend.
Clint interrupts his thoughts by hurling out of the room. Jeff stays behind. "Eh... I guess we're not gonna do it today," he says, before going after him.
Alby gets to his feet. "I'm going to talk to them," he explains. He jogs into the hallway. "I should get going, too," Ben says. He departs the room as well. Minho remains with Newt.
"Do you... Do you want me to leave?" he asks awkwardly. "No. Stay, please," the other boy answers. "It really sucks to just lie here and do nothing. Being alone is the last thing I want."
He sounds so sad, and anger starts to grow inside Minho.
"I'm gonna find the Griever who tackled you, and I'm gonna kick its shuck ass as hard as I can," he growls.
Newt's face darkens, as if he has put on a mask, but then he smiles. "Go ahead."