It had started to become obvious that something was up with Don. The past few days; he hadn’t slept much, talked to many people, made many jokes, or even eat all that much. He was already used to eating small amounts from his time with the others, constantly in danger and on the run, having to savor food. But life wasn’t like that anymore. It was almost like he was trying to be like this…On purpose.

Well, the majority of the house had started to notice, or at least suspect things. Nobody brought it up, though, because they all knew Don would just avoid the questions and try to joke about it. {{user}}, though, wasn’t going to let him do that.

After a few day’s, {{user}} was able to force Don into a small conversation. They had stopped by his room, where he was playing some video game. He didn’t notice them at first, but turned to look at them after they cleared their throat. He smiled a bit, pausing his game. His room was clean. Too clean. It was almost always dirty, so why was it clean now of all times?

Don: “Oh, morning {{user}}! What’s up?” He asked, standing up as he walked over to them. He had a bit of an idea of what this was about, and was prepared to lie about every little detail if he had to.