If the tabs she kept on Abuela meant anything, then this would be another day with no 'surprises'; no events now or anytime soon, nor special tasks for her to complete. Perfect.
Dolores may not have had much time that morning to deviate from her tasks and plan her secret little operation better – in an ever struggling effort to appear 'normal', not to raise suspicion – she had more than enough time between her walks in town to mentally strategize her plan.
What a shame that she couldn't talk about it or at least bring a notepad to write it down. Now she had to let it clash with the sounds entering her consciousness in every direction. Oh well.
If everything went well, this would be the last day in quite a while she would need to interact with Tío Bruno. Not that he was a burden… but even now, she could hear him trying to cover his tracks, making as little noise as humanly possible. If he couldn't have his one space to function as a normal human because of fear, it'd be best to help him and move on as soon as possible.
Her morning rounds in the town would, luckily, soon be finished. She had to utilize any possible moment she could sneak back home to gather all those supplies she's planned – or at least, the most useful ones, once she got time to organize that list.
For good measure, she decided any 'free time' in between helping townspeople would be dedicated to listening in, to find out how he's faring. Maybe it would be more invasive than normal to actively try hearing Tío's movements in the walls, but after the disaster that was last night's confrontation, she couldn't risk running into him again if she wished for her plan to work.
It was, for the most part, quite the same as the previous day: headaches and groans, trouble walking, hushed words spoken to the rats. He at least seemed to try getting in a morning routine, but it sounded strained.
Even as a few hours passed, he seemed to be keeping up an almost perfect, quiet, unquestioning set of normal routines. It was too perfect.
Only while finding her way to her last rounds did she hear anything truly concerning. Maybe the other things should've rang warning bells, but the minute she heard him ripping gauze, she knew her operation had to take full effect.
Those last few townspeople who usually relied on her last minute could afford one day without her… right?
Right, they could. Her Tío with an injury major enough to need gauze, was much more important than the townspeople too lazy to find out through other means whether the market had restocked their favourite product.
In a way, it was relieving for her to know she could justify in her own mind that she was leaving her responsibilities for a good cause. It also made her pause, realization making her eyes widen silently. The only person she could even justify this to was herself.
This was so hard.
She knew he never would but… why couldn't Tío just cooperate? Did he really think that hiding something worth of gauze would get past her so easily? Well, he would be wrong!
Oh, how much the newfound information made her want to march right up to the man and drag him right up to his oldest hermana, give him a proper prognosis and put an end to this pain he was putting himself under! She wanted to help him in that way, that easy way… but she knew she couldn't.
Dolores had to rationalize for a minute; what even was the area of injury and what out of that list was even needed? As she snuck out of the town's main roads and onto the cobbled path leading back to Casita, she heard one of Tío's complaints very clearly.
A wince, followed by a series of strained 'ow's as he asked a rat to get off his ankle.
Wait, his ankle… it all made sense now!
Of course, she could likely still be reaching far for a proper diagnosis, but all that limping and difficulty standing and outright refusing to leave his chair made sense! It didn't matter much where the exact area of injury was if she now knew that it was a gauze-worthy leg wound.
It was still a bit strange that an ankle injury would need gauze… unless it was much worse than she was led to speculate.
Before anything else, Dolores felt the need to double-check their remaining gauze supply. Knowing Bruno, he either was amazing at hiding stolen evidence in plain sight, or the space looked like a haphazard looting attempt. That made stealing medical supplies sound worse than she intended...
In the bathroom (which was luckily free), she concluded that she wasn't exactly wrong; the general sink area and medicine cabinet looked normal enough When you opened it, though, it was obvious that something was stolen: stuff moved to the side and never put back, smudges, ripped up material. What was even left of the gauze was barely enough for one person. It was considerate, the thought that he only took what he thought was necessary, but with this much left, he should've just taken the whole thing.
Dolores tsked, shaking her head and she grabbed what was left. Might as well add it to her collection; he'd need it more than anyone else right now.
"Ay, sometimes I feel like the only one who notices things around here." The comment escaped her, in the thought that she was alone even if she felt the presence of a delicate-footed relative entering the bathroom behind her.
She shrugged, barely acknowledging the confusion in Isabela's voice – or rather, an assortment of 'what's. This was hardly the weirdest thing Dolores has said even in the last week, and yet somehow, her slightly older cousin still had a hard time acknowledging the weird off-hand comments she made sometimes. She couldn't blame her… but it was amusing, she had to admit.
It took her no time to slip into her room, closing the door for extra measure. Was she guilty that she was sneaking away from responsibilities, possibly getting found out for this from Abuela? Maybe, but she continued to look at the bigger picture.
If she took this day to help Bruno, she likely wouldn't have to spend another day indulging in their secret for a long time. She only needed a day – and only needed it to go well.
Quickly hiding the gauze in a desk drawer, she took no hesitation in fishing out her notebook with a list from the night before. It was a mess, she didn't expect anything different; and if anything, this meant she'd have to crack down and refine the list perfectly.
Luckily there wasn't too much to work with, nor was there not enough. Sure, there were some nonsensical and unnecessary ideas, but it was nothing she was unable to sort through in her awake, fresher state of mind.
What was left of the page was used to note down what she thought his injury might be and what exactly out of achievable items she could retrieve to help him. She would not even have to sit to write these, nor the refinement of these notes on another page, as they manifested relatively quickly onto the busy page.
Short enough but effective, and most importantly, reachable by one person. Good.
One item, however, was something she would need a more professional opinion about. Dolores may be no healer, but if she worded her questions well enough, maybe this mission could still be kept under wraps after all.
It wasn't considerably difficult to take a day off from his normal schedule to rest and regenerate, allowing himself to heal.
No, no, that was easy. What was difficult was the dreaded weight in the pit of his chest, the weight of resting here when he could be doing something useful. His mind constantly berated him throughout the morning for doing nothing, no matter how much he wanted to argue that this sitting around, 'lounging', was to help.
He ultimately could move, he wanted to argue… staying off the injury wasn't a need. It was rather more of a… how would he put it? Prevention? Going from having a cold one day to gaining a barely wounded limb the next did nothing good for his impulsive visions, so a little bit of 'resting' should put him back in order and functioning. Or at least surviving.
It was funny to think, even if he tried to distract himself with the finalization of that novela episode's details, his overactive mind couldn't help but wander onto the cracks that wouldn't fix themselves, or the water he still needed to collect. He still had enough food to realistically last him the day, but if anything, now would've been the best time to sneak out and get some more...
He almost wondered what Dolores would say about him now- no, he shouldn't wonder about that. She had enough on her own plate; if anything, she shouldn't have to take any more time out of her week to help him. Yeah, that was it. It's been what, three or four days? If anything, he's surprised no one's caught on by now.
Bruno felt guilty enough as is, for landing himself in this situation. With how much Dolores was reaching out? He couldn't… he couldn't just let him become even more of a burden to her than he already was. She's been listening to him, even if he wants to stay quiet and out of the way. Because he knows she cares.
First a small cold, now this. She's been helping him for multiple days in a row, undoubtedly risking her reputation…
Dios, he really owed his life to that kid, didn't he?
He laughed weakly, letting the pen rest in his hands as he realized half of his notes weren't even connected to the novela by now. All just a jumble of the words in his mind and whatever coherent thought of a plot twist he wished for at the end of that episode. The result was not coherent in the slightest.
Was he going to even get any novela work done? Who knew, but letting himself write all this out provided him with some internal relief. Not that he ever said any of this aloud, but it was easy to feel like he was hiding more than usual. More than just hiding in the walls.
If sneaking off hours after Dolores caught him in the kitchen, adrenaline pumping as he haphazardly borrowed enough gauze to hide his injury taught him anything, it's that he desperately needed to let this rest. Neither his leg nor his sleep-ridden mind would be able to function if he kept up this never-ending worry.
Hours in a chair could only do someone so much good. Maybe… maybe getting some real shut-eye would do him some good? The one thing about illnesses and injuries was the way they kept a person awake and wondering, and he didn't doubt a sleepless episode of time was in his future.
Anyone who knew Bruno didn't need a vision to see that.
Bruno severely doubted he would be able to sleep… However, he could just rest. Still be quiet, sitting in his chair as he has been for hours – but no more writing, for now, no drawing sets or acting out scenes in his mind. Creativity was something he needed a small break from, just enough time to regenerate and rest his brain.
And play with the rats. Dios, he's been neglecting them for hours. The man decided then that this was the driving factor for him to rest. No more novela work for now.
He took the extra effort of closing his notebook and placing it on his small table, replacing it as a plate for his leftover food; just so he wouldn't have to think about it for a while. Out of sight and out of mind.
It would be hard, without a distraction to keep his mind away from the inevitable thoughts… but he would prevail. Besides, healing his body was much more important than healing his mentality, already so far gone, he doubted it would ever heal…
Nope! None of this right now! Bruno shook his head to rid of the thoughts, taking a deep breath. Okay. Time for the rats. Nothing else but the rats.
The writer focused on a group of his rats standing not far, playing amongst themselves. He clicked his tongue, motioning for them to come closer. Of course, they complied – they've wanted nothing more than attention for days, but this also meant they were quite eager.
No surprise really that most of his furry little companions decided to travel across the leg that was currently held up by a crate. You know, the one wrapped in what could barely be considered enough bandages. He winced again. Dios, when were they going to learn that wasn't a safe place to stand? Luckily they weren't all that heavy, or this would hurt a lot.
He had to shrug it off for now, though. What mattered were the rats climbing on his lap and chest and shoulders and everywhere. Bruno stifled a laugh, reaching out to pat one on its head. It would never not be ticklish when they did this.
His voice kept faltering while he tried speaking to them, only able to manage a few soft noises. Right, he still couldn't speak out loud. Too much noise, too much attention on himself. Maybe after these next few days, once he's able to function like a normal human again (as much as possible), he'd find a way to make it up to the rats.
When a few of them found their way to his leftovers, he sighed. It was enough but… they would be hungry. He would be hungry soon enough. A little could go to them, but with the injury, he couldn't afford to give too much. So he mulled over and broke off a small piece, handing off small crumbs to each of them. Hopefully, they will understand.
He mouthed what could only be considered a pathetic excuse of a "lo siento", trying to portray his meaning more with body language but falling flat. They deserved way more than what he was giving them right now.
Bruno fell back into his chair, absent-mindedly petting a few of the rats while his eyes wandered the room. Some of his rats already left to go about their own business, seemingly satisfied with the attention. He caught sight of two rats grooming each other and… well, he looked away out of respect, but it reminded him of something else he's been neglecting.
He needed a shower. Or at least, a way to clean up better. The last time he tried to visit Castia's bathroom was obviously a failure, so to the pipes, he would go. An assortment of bamboo pipes in the far end of his halls, opposite this room, all the way in the back of the house. Just fantastic, now wasn't that?
Trying to deny himself the need for water wouldn't be wise, though. Even just drinking water, he was running low on supply. If for nothing else, he should try to walk for that. Bruno had no idea how he was going to carry enough water to last him a while… but he could manage.
Not right now, though. He could always go later. Or at least that's what he told himself. Always later.
Back in town and acting as if she had been working the whole time, Dolores held her head up. This should be easy, right? If she had enough of a neutral face while her super hearing pulsed throughout the town, then she could keep a neutral face while heading towards the one and only person she needed to consult for her mission: the town healer.
If Julieta wasn't in the kitchen, then realistically there was only one other place she could be: in the center of town, healing the townspeople and their various injuries. (Dolores would argue that these injuries were not of much concern, but if people came to the stand, her Tía would offer them aid. That's just how it was).
Visiting the stand herself was the perfect excuse to reintegrate into the visage that she was working, so it's not as if she could judge everyone else. However, she was on a mission; she wasn't just there for a snack.
As she walked throughout the town, approaching its center, she kept tabs on the stand. She was still 'available' to a townsperson in need, but her mind stook to reaching Julieta sometime before she would pack up the healing stand for the morning. That way, she'd have time to entertain what was totally not a suspicious question.
The second she heard empty trays stacking, Dolores didn't hesitate to turn directly to the station. Now was her chance.
"Tía, can I ask you a question?" Her quiet voice startled Julieta for a second (oh wait, of course, it did). She moved into her aunt's field of view, tilting her head innocently. "About your gift?"
No doubt this was confusing. It wasn't odd for someone to ask about the Madrigal gifts… it was just an odd time. Oddly convenient. "Sure?" Her aunt busied herself with packing the remaining trays, head still perked up to indicate she was listening. "What is it that you need, Lolo?"
It took a moment for her to bring herself to ask. All of this was so conveniently timed that if anyone wanted to, they could easily piece together what Dolores was trying to hide. At least that's what she feared; average people were not nearly as observant in their day-to-day than she was forced to be. She would be fine.
"How powerful is your gift?" she decided to start; simple, easing into the big question. "Could it, say… heal a mild wound?"
Julieta put down her tray. "A wound? Wow, um," it was obvious she was struggling to process her inquiry, "That's a big issue, now, isn't it?" Dolores left her to think, not moving more than a simple nod out of view. However, Tía Julieta seemed to understand plenty. "I'm guessing the person doesn't want me to know."
That was… one way to word it. The healer either trusted Dolores with this unnamed injured person, or she knew – either way, she couldn't risk giving much more detailed information. Just enough but not too much, a touch in the right direction without identifying who was merely a wound without a better description.
"Sí, he wants to keep it under wraps before his mamá finds out." This wasn't exactly a lie, per se, which prevented the girl's face from faltering. A mother of three could easily pick up a lie, and a triplet could easily pick up any indication of their third's behaviour. This should hopefully slip as normal and believable behaviour.
To this, Julieta laughed. Well, it was more of a lighthearted chuckle… but it led her to believe she thought this was amusing. "Ay, of course, of course," was the only thing Tía offered, not even enough to keep the suspicion of fear crawling onto her expression.
The only thing that saved Dolores was the fact that Tía was still busy clearing her station. She didn't look behind, though continued to engage in conversation. The healer rubbed her chin after stacking the last of her trays, as if in deep thought.
"How bad is 'mild'?" She still didn't look up, or else she would see how the girl froze. How bad is mild? Dolores didn't really… know how to describe the wound, since she had never seen it; only that it prevented him from comfortably walking. Every moment spent longer on this mission made her regret the conclusion of last night's confrontation even more.
She thought for a moment. "Not too bad, not functional either." Only now did she realize just how little she prepared for this. As understanding and patient as her aunt was, she could hear even her scoff at this explanation.
"Is it an open wound or more of a scratch?"
Ah, that actually helped quite a bit. From what she could judge, it could seem like an open wound, that's for sure; with how dramatic her Tío was, this wasn't a far-fetched guess. However, he lacked a certain urgency that came with open wounds. Even if panicking, he was able to stay calm and for the most part, handle it.
So it was likely more of a scratch. Maybe an irritated burn at most, but something painful and bothersome rather than dangerous and in need of direct medical attention. "More of a scratch." She squeaked, desperately hoping this judgment wasn't wrong.
The healer paused her motion. "Well, a wound is bad, of course," Julieta began, now turning her attention to Dolores, "but nothing a little aloe, bandages, and proper maintenance can't fix."
While she may have looked completely serious, the super-hearing girl couldn't help but think this advice was oddly… unsafe? How often did her Tía deal with townspeople wishing to heal themselves for her to be so casual about this advice? Unless that was why Luisa always snuck an aloe back to her room…
Without mentioning any of this concern, though, she simply nodded with a soft squeak. "Gracias, Tía."
She turned to go back to Casita once again, heed Tía's probably unsafe advice before anyone else could catch on to her. But of course, she barely got a step in.
"Oh, Dolores-"
Before she could scurry off, though, the healer seemed to have one last bit of advice. Dolores halted where she stood.
"Make sure to tell the person to change bandages every few hours! Very important."
She nodded again. "Okay, I'll tell him."
She wanted to mention that they – as in, the entire house – were likely running low on bandages, but it's nothing she couldn't scavenge around and find herself. Besides, if Tío Bruno could apply his own bandages like she heard this morning, he would be fine.
Dolores kept an ear out for any other instructions, though kept her way moving towards Casita once again. Even if her Tía was far enough behind, following through at her own pace, it didn't mean they had to face each other directly to talk.
The healer didn't seem to have anything else to tell her. Until she did.
"Oh, and tell him… he can come to me next time when I'm not busy if he doesn't want anyone to know."