Swamped

"Swamprats," you suggest, a little unsure of yourself.

"Smart Paws," Lisa says quickly. "Pretty simple one, but you're still learning the letters I suppose. Now, how about I give you one... Marshguards smell."

You chuckle at that one a little and try to work on it.

All... mess... rush. mgard left over, that won't do. Dream... small... gush... rs left over, no. Harm... small... reds? That leaves sgu, no. You're not getting anywhere.

"I give in," you say.

"Small red sham rugs," Lisa says with a smile. "Thought I'd give you a tough one and see what you could get out of it. Get a sense of where you were on learning the letters."

"Damn, that was close. I was at Harm Small Reds and couldn't see where to go."

"That leaves you a Gus, but if we're playing for real you're not allowed proper names. Good effort, though. So, would you like to keep this up or..."

There's a loud horn suddenly.

"Damn. That's a call to the auditorium. They'll be doing headcount now... oh, don't worry about having to get out of bed, Medic makes a list of the wounded so you're already counted." Lisa sighs. "Unfortunately, I don't get a choice in the matter. I've got to head over there. Wish I could stay, but sadly I've got to head off. Cindy should still be around, though, I'll send her back in."

"Bye. Thanks for coming."

She smiles at you.

"It's a pleasure. I appreciate knowing someone who doesn't raise a fuss about losing."

You're alone again, until Cindy returns.

"Sorry about that. John would normally be back by now, but it seems there's some complications with the prisoner. So, ah, just let me know if there's anything you need."

Well, you appreciate not being left alone, at least. Maybe this time you can try starting a conversation.