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Interesting: A state of curiosity or concern about or attention to something
Mark was terribly confused. At the moment he was sitting across from the couch, on the coffee table, leaning forward slightly to get a look at the squalling baby on the cushions in front of him.
"What's the matter with him?" Roger asked almost helplessly. Mark looked up at his friend who was standing up near the sofa, almost afraid to touch the little boy. All the screaming finally broke Mimi's heart entirely and she scooped the little boy up into her lap, instinctively cradling him to her. After finding the baby in the alley Mark found Mimi and Roger.
"What the hell is that?" he had asked, at first thinking it was some sort of animal. A puppy or something.
"A…a baby," Roger had stuttered, his hand supporting the little boys head.
"What?" Mark pulled back the mess of dirty rags and gasped, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. This was definitely interesting. It was a little boy. A tiny, tiny little boy. He looked to be about 5 or 6 months old. He had the bluest eyes Mark had ever seen, and that was really something considering his own piercing shade. His tiny hands were balled into fists and he was screaming hysterically, kicking unconsciously against Roger and continuing to wail.
"What are we going to do?" Mimi squeaked hopelessly.
"Take him with us?" Roger half stated half questioned. Mimi and Mark had stared at him for a second. It was obvious the little boy had been abandoned. And it was obvious that whoever had left him there had left him there to die. Roger zipped him up into his jacket and the three headed home, the little boy still crying weakly. Now at home the three were at a loss of what to do. His crying still wasn't letting up.
"He must be hungry," Mark said his voice coming out a little gruff from being silent so long. He cleared his throat watching with sad eyes as the baby fought to catch his breath after his relentless crying episode.
"Formula," Roger said suddenly.
"What?"
"Formula. He needs formula," he said his eyes brightening a little with the realization that there was a way to ease the little guys' pain. They didn't know how long he had gone without food. He couldn't have been out in the alley long with the freezing temperatures. Even now as Mimi cradled his bundled body close to her he continued to shake.
"Where are we going to get that?" Mark asked meekly. He hated how he sounded all Mr. Negative. But what was going to happen? What had they gotten themselves into?
"I'm calling Joanne," Roger said, wringing his hands together slightly as the little boy started to bawl again in Mimi's arms. Mark's eyes softened a little. Why hadn't he thought of that? Joanne was smart. She had connections. Okay maybe not so much. But she'd sure know more of what to do then the three of them did.
"Please hurry Roger," Mimi moaned gently the baby squirming and wailing pitifully in her lap, his face red his eyes shut with his hysteria. Mark stood up to follow and he was surprised as Roger pushed him onto the couch.
"Stay with Mimi," he instructed. Mark looked up at Roger. Determination was in his eyes, the baby's wails starting to eat at his heart as well.
"Please hurry."
After getting over the initial shock of what Roger had told her Joanne hurried over to the loft. Mark practically pounced on her as she rapped at the door.
"Do you have the formula?" he asked anxiously. Joanne was panting.
"Yes…here," she shoved a bottle into Mark's hands.
"Here Mimi," Mark hurried the bottle over to her.
"Yeah like I know how to do this!" she said, panicking slightly. Mark would have laughed if she didn't have a screaming baby in her lap.
"Give me," Roger took the bottle from Mimi and slid the boy from her lap. "Here little guy. It's okay. Shhh, its okay now I promise." The bottle was in his mouth and he anxiously began to suck. The whole room gave a sigh of relief. It was silent for a minute, Roger sitting down on the edge of the sofa, the boy cradled close to him, sucking and making little sounds of contentment.
"Thank you Joanne," Mimi murmured gratefully, tracing her pinky over the little boys' tiny fist. His golden brown hair was matted in a mess at the top of his head. He kicked his feet against Roger's arm, gentler this time and out of happiness instead of fear.
"What happened you guys?" Joanne asked, still in a bit of awe at how right Roger looked with a baby in his arms. The little boy was gorgeous. And aside from some dirt and cuts on his face looked perfectly healthy. His shaking slowly slowed down and when he finished the bottle Roger eased it out of his mouth, wiping the excess milk away with the sleeve of his shirt. The three of them took turns recounting what had happened barely an hour ago.
"What are you going to do?" Joanne asked reaching out to take the baby from Roger. She patted his back gently looking from Roger to Mimi to Mark and back again.
"We'll have to take him down to the police station tomorrow," Roger said. "I'm sure someone there can take him." The little boy burped and Joanne pulled him away from her shoulder resting him back into Roger's arms. He looked up at him, developing the case of the hiccups causing the four of them to laugh.
"It's so awful people do things like this," Joanne said softly. The little boy fisted up a little bit of Roger's shirt and cooed softly before promptly falling asleep in his arms. "What's his name?"
"I don't think he has one," Mimi murmured.
"You should give him one."
"Oh no. Once you name them you start…getting attached," Roger fake shuddered and smiled. "I'm sure he has other family members out there that can take him."
But as Mark looked at the way Roger gazed down at the little boy asleep in his arms he knew that somehow it was too late.