Nearby, a soldier - this one named Thompson - approached Ralph. He took note of Vanellope and then looked at her huge-handed friend, indicating that she needed to get off of his shoulder. "She needs to be screened as well," he explained.
The wrecker's brows furrowed as he shook his head. "Don't worry about her. Focus on me," he said, his tone conveying that he wasn't budging on his decision. Vanellope wasn't going anywhere - not with the soldiers stomping around like a stampede of wild rhinos. She was staying on his shoulder where she wouldn't get trampled.
"Yeah, space-cadet. I ain't even sick!" The president proclaimed, pointing to herself proudly and leaning back on Ralph's shoulder. "I'm just here for moral support. So, just do your thing, and I'll sit here and laugh." The girl stated, with a smirk, reaching down and patting the wrecker's oversized shoulder in mocking comfort.
For once, Ralph appreciated Vanellope's snark. More than that, though, he appreciated the miffed look the soldier wore as he glanced at the cheeky girl and then reluctantly returned his attention forward. When he was asked to open his mouth, the large man obeyed and parted his lips. Something that could have easily been considered a thermometer was set onto his tongue, only it was much too big and cylinder-like to be a temperature taking tool.
"Thifth doethn't tasthe good," he spoke around the probe, his voice muffled and odd-sounding. The soldier said nothing and continued to await the results that were currently calculating on the tool. Soon enough, the device was removed and then silently read. Curious, Ralph asked: "So, what's the damage?"
"That's confidential," Thompson stated, slipping the probe into a slot in his armor and stepping back.
"Confidential? What do you mean 'confidential'?" the wrecker demanded, sounding offended. "You stuck that thing in my mouth, pal, so I deserve some kind of explanation."
"Negatory. Further analysis is needed before an official report can be released." And with that, he marched off, leaving a dumbfounded Ralph behind.
'Confidential'? The girl raised an irritated eyebrow and wrinkled her nose in distaste. This was Ralph's problem. He had every right to know what was going on with him and his friends! She had the right mind to tell this overdressed exterminator off for it too! That is, before he marched off to be with his squad mates without another word.
Vanellope sat upon Ralph's shoulder, her irritation clearly evident alongside Ralph's dumbfounded expression."Pfft! What a moron," she grumbled, hunching her shoulders and folding her arms in front of herself. After a moment, she spoke up again. "Ah well, who needs him? Amiright? We'll just get Sarge to tell us what's going on," she uncrossed her arms and leaned back slightly to pat her larger friend on the shoulder again. "Ya know, after she's not all 'serious' on us," she smirked a bit, leaning back casually on his shoulder now and glancing over to the sergeant.
Felix on the other hand, wasn't having such an easy time staying calm.
But his 8-bit heart was truly gripped with anxiety when the voice of his wife rung out and ordered the soldier in front of him to move out. He took a shaky, steadying breath as her figure moved into his peripheral vision. Suddenly, he would have much rather preferred Markowski. But that was only because of the look in her eyes when he cast a tentative glance up at her. It was all business. And her tone of voice made his heart plummet.
"Tammy–" he began, unsure of how to continue. There was so much he wanted to say to her at that moment. Like how he was sorry for keeping her in the dark for so long, and how he hadn't wanted her to worry – but he figured that this wasn't the place to deal with all that. So instead, he swallowed those words, and glanced at the Nicelanders once again with fretful eyes, before looking back to her. "They don't know I'm sick…" he told her in a hushed tone, hoping that she would understand.
A fresh sting spread in her chest at his whispered words. "That doesn't surprise me. Since you're practically a professional at keeping things to yourself," she remarked coldly, and before he could squeeze in a comment, she inserted the probe into his mouth.
The advanced piece of technology beeped here and there before it signaled its readiness with a mechanic shift. Retracting the tool, she studied the results and then capped the evidence for further analysis at the lab; it was clear, however, that she hadn't liked what she'd seen.
But now wasn't the time for that. She had a job to do.
The sergeant looked at her men and noticed that they all seemed finished with their inspections. "Assume formation! We're heading over to Street Fighter next." The soldiers fell back into their original two lines and prepared to depart. Tamora joined them and, together, they moved out without another word, leaving Felix to stare after her in a numb state of shock.
The movement of the Nicelanders suddenly caught his attention, and he snapped out of his stupor long enough to see their tired, miserable, grumpy (in Gene's case), and disturbed faces walking almost silently back towards the apartment. It was clear that all they wanted to do was get home and pretend that the recent invasion of their game had never happened.
He couldn't stand to see them like that - and it was right then that the weight of the day crashed down on him. Everything that had happened that day rushed through his mind in an unpleasant wave accompanied by the annoying static that refused to stop in his head.
Try as he might, he couldn't think of a way to fix this. In fact, everything he did to try and make the situation better, only ended up making it worse.
Seeing nothing else he could do, he sat on the edge of the tram platform and put his head in his hands. If anything, that might get the ringing in his ears to stop, though it didn't seem to.