Swamped

There's a symbol on the glove that looks a bit like a flame. You remember seeing that symbol before, on a cloth. You assumed it was his family crest.

But why would that crest be on a glove, while he's still so young? Most families that have a crest don't just put it on everything. A sports glove seems an odd choice.

That's not all, though. You didn't really pay it much heed at the time, but the person who ran off earlier had gloves like that. And a quick glimpse at the picture you've got in your pocket confirms similar gloves on the artist's attacker. No sign of the palms, though.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," you say. "I'm trying to get back to my bed, but the doctor isn't around. I was wondering if he might be attending to a patient."

"Haven't seen him in about three hours," the young Flame replies, not taking his eyes off the glove. "If you happened to take note of your bed number, however, I can tell you how to find it. I noticed the markers when they were carrying me in and had little better to do than work out the pattern."

Interesting.

"Not very helpful if you can't read the markers, though," you reply.

"Well, given that I've been advised not to walk for at least another two days, I'm afraid I can't help you with reading. You'll either have to find it yourself or ask someone else who's awake. If you do find a guide, however, I'd be happy to explain the system to them, though if you don't know your bed number I suppose that won't help much."

"Sorry for bothering you, then."

"It's no trouble. I've noticed this place is understaffed. Hardly surprising that patients have to take care of themselves."

Well, now's the time to move the conversation.

"It's truly a shame. Well, I'll leave you to your fishing glove, then."

You know full well it's not a fishing glove. But there's no way someone with this boy's attitude will let that stand.

"It's a tossball glove," he says, with just a hint of indignation. "My uncle had it made specifically for me. Probably trying to get me interested in the fool sport."

"Oh. My apologies for the confusion. Can't say I know much about tossball."

"I know far more about it than I'd like. Except, that is, how this glove works. It's supposed to improve throwing distance by about ten percent, and my own tests support that conclusion, but I don't see what parts of it actually contribute. For a while I thought it was magic, but I ruled that out..."

He suddenly stops.

"Sorry. I have a habit of talking too much. I shouldn't be keeping you."

So the glove increases throwing distance. But the strange assailant at the hospital used a blowgun, not a throwing weapon. Perhaps there was something else they wanted to throw?

You also find it interesting that Flame's uncle apparently produces these gloves. Or at least pays someone who does enough to put the family crest on them. You wonder if that has anything to do with the cloth you found back on the ship.

But it doesn't seem to have anything to do with your immediate problem. So you suppose it's time to check on one of the other Flames in here. Maybe they'll add to your understanding of all this.