Ueath lays in the hospital bed as before, knocked out, although he looks like he's sleeping peacefully and naturally. Kalliope sits halfway across the room on a black chair, flipping through a small leather-bound book. She looks up every once in a while, watching over him as he rests.
Kalliope's deep brown hair is a bit disheveled, her eyes an ominous black. Her dress is simple and black, as well, yet somewhat dressy. She looks vaguely like Ueathdue to the conformity of the building, but is overall different. She has a kinder, clearer face but with less steady (and more sunken) eyes and less bruises. Although Kalliope appears to be nicer than Ueath, she seems almost broken, as though she's secretly angry or upset. Even wronged. Her slight smile falters, her eyes are gleaming due to the small amount of tears that have built up, and her posture seems almost apathetic (she doesn't seem to carry herself with confidence or focus on looking 'proper').
After a few seconds, Ueath opens his eyes and blinks a few times, a dazed look on his face. He grunts as he tries to get up, but the straps prevent him from doing so. He's still in the hospital, but an unknown amount of time has passed (although it is the same day).
Kalliope: Finally, you're up. She walks over and unbuckles him, studying his face. I'm Kalliope.
Kalliope holds out her hand eagerly.
Ueath, shaking her hand: Ueath.
Kalliope, nodding: So how are you?
Ueath, rubbing his head: Not too happy, if you know what I mean.
Kalliope: No one's ever happy. Not here, at least. She tucks the straps underneath the bed. I was asking how your head was.
Ueath: It's alright. It's not like this has never happened before.
There is a slight pause as Kalliope pulls a basin from underneath the bed. She lifts it and sits on the bed, placing the basin next to her.
Kalliope: You're a servant, aren't you? Ueath nods with a confused expression on his face. Kalliope explains: Alutia likes to hit her servants over the head.
Ueath nods again, this time rubbing his head.
Kalliope: I used to be a servant. She pulls a rag from the basin and moves closer to Ueath, pulling his hand away from his head. Not anymore, thank goodness.
Ueath, mumbling: What are you now?
Kalliope: Jail guard. She washes his face with the rag, sighing. I guard her little dungeon.
Ueath, quickly: Really?
Kalliope: Yes, but don't get too excited. She pauses and puts the rag back in the basin. With all the shouting prisoners, it's only a bit more peaceful than being a servant.
Ueath: While guarding, have you--have you ever seen my son?
Kalliope, casually yet somewhat demanding: Look to the right. Ueath does so. Look to the left. Ueath obeys again, looking a bit more confused. Yeah, I have. Looks a bit like you, doesn't he?
Ueath, a look of painful joy crossing his face: You have! How is he?
Kalliope, raising her eyebrows: Quite a lark he is. Doesn't move much, either. Better than some of the other prisoners, though.
Ueath: Oh, thank goodness.
Kalliope, after a small pause, as though she's attempting to change the subject: Alutia did it, didn't she? Ueath nods. Why? What'd you do?
Ueath shakes his head, a disgusted look on his face.
Kalliope, quietly: You want him back, don't you?
Ueath: No. Then, angrily: I need my son. Pause. It's revenge I want.
As soon as the word "revenge" leaves Ueath's lips, Kalliope's curl into a slightly pleased smile.