Bubba checked his wristwatch again, eyes glancing over it but not really registering what appeared on its face. Fiona was doing the exact opposite, carefully monitoring every expression that her current companion seemed to make, mentally jotting down exactly everything that was wrong with each individual facial display. Bubba of course could sense that he was not welcome, and shifted the weight of his small book bag so that it more comfortably rested on both of his shoulders. He didn't dare sit back down, but standing wasn't quite all that comfortable either.

"I'll just be leaving…"

Fiona shook her head firmly. "No, no you won't. We need to talk."

The prince sighed, a motion that would have of course been worshiped if Marshall had been is his presence, but his current company was less than impressed. She wouldn't be so easily seduced or love struck, she wouldn't be astonished by his level of intelligence. Essentially Bubba had no quality worth offering up in her direction.

All anyone wanted Bubba to do lately was speak, explain himself, get in touch with his feelings and all, when if it weren't for Marshall, he would probably be stuck in his old life, everything under his own control and carefully monitored and regulated. Secrets tucked away safely under the rug where they should remain. It was better when people were quiet, unquestioning, it made everything less to be fair, Fiona had always been like this towards him. Pre-Marshall era even.

Bubba sighed again.

"Whatever you think we need to talk about is probably a waste of my precious time, but seeing as though you'll likely brutally attack me if I don't oblige…"

Fiona blew a puff of blonde hair out of her eyes, fists clenched on either side of her body. The secretary was still present and somewhat overlapping the waiting room, but he was off in a different land, bobbing his head to the music blasting from his Beats while he skimmed the latest issue of Essence. They would not be stopped by his partial authority any time soon.

"You conveniently ignored the fact that you were just as willing to throw down the other night. So what is it now? Scared? Where was that fear all those years ago, when you were running around framing people for heinous crimes?"

Still, Beats boy did not look up from his pages. As he bounced his cranium around his hair followed, the neon green and pink strands dancing atop his half-shaved scalp. He called the look "Poison Injected Apple" or "Bad Boy Meets Lover". Either way, his mom was probably never buying him hair dye again.

Bubba didn't like Fiona anymore, not like he used to when they were little, before he tried to warn her about his father. She was just as repulsive to him as that hospital waiting room, a collision of intoxicating traits that drove a person mad. Marshall was also like the waiting room, but somehow on him it provoked a different kind of reaction. But maybe that was why the two of them were the best of friends. So god damn over dramatic.

"If you genuinely still think that's what happened, I can't help you sort that out. I'm sorry that in your parent-less state you made the mistake of latching on to mine. But I'm not going to humor you with violence."

Bubba started walking again. He made his way only halfway across the room before Fiona was in his path once more. She had her hands on her wide hips, eyes narrowed to slim triangles. She was doing that thing where she pretended she was took up more space than the reality. Bubba, who was used to these kinds of techniques, felt more offended than intimidated. This was a genuine waste of time. Why was she always wasting his time? He didn't want to be in the hospital anymore, and he didn't want to cause a scene either.

"How is that not what happened? ...Never mind. Just stay away from Marshall, okay?"

Even she was not so dense to have been unintentional with the offer. Fiona was giving Bubba a way out. His ticket to leave, if he would only agree to this much. In the grand scheme of all the bullshit he had ever agreed to in his life, this would be bordering minor. He smiled. (Again, no Marshall-like responses were received, and it left a bit of a hollow feeling lingering.) He adjusted his backpack once more. Distributing the weight unevenly this time.

"No," he said. And then Bubba kept walking. The walls were gonna kill his eyesight with any prolonged exposure, which was kind of ironic for hospital decor. Based on the magazine he'd just pretended to read, Bubba believed a better option would have been eggshell blue, pollen yellow, or a faint mint green. He considered leaving a note for the staff to inform them of his findings. Hell, it wasn't as if he couldn't hire this dump some painters himself.

Fiona nodded, tapping her sneaker-ed foot against the soft chilled tile. She had anticipated this reponse. Her elite private school was currently undergoing a teacher workday, so she had all the time in the world. Still, Bubba thought she should be spending that time in a more productive manner. Napping would be a start.

"Well, the least you can do is promise to treat him right."

Bubba stopped once he reached the secretary's little window area. "No to that as well." He wasn't going to be spoken down to by Xena or by anyone else. This entire ordeal had all been a tremendous insult to his existence as well as just a general waste, and he felt ignorant for expecting any good to come of it.

But Fiona wasn't exactly jumping for joy either. She threw her hands against her thighs, exasperated. She was definitely a gesture based kind of person. Gestures and facial expressions and that holier-than-thou ponytail. "After what you've done to me, it's the least you could-"

"After what I've done to you?" Bubba had to laugh at that, "Saving your life is what I've done. Kept you from becoming me, rotten and fucked up and sleeping with your best friend." He tapped at the glass frame between the two of them and Beats Boy, who was now playing some type of shooter game which he had illegally downloaded the night before. There was no way he was actually old enough to be working this job. "And now I'm probably going to sleep with this moron while I sort things out, but you wouldn't dare tell Marshall. Because you think you're a good friend."

The glass slid open. Bubba smiled, and he said something that Fiona couldn't hear, because she was walking away by the time he called for her again.

"But Fiona?"

She looked to him slowly, still half expecting him to apologize.

"You aren't."