"Um. How did you... get in?" Brandy questions you, quirking a brow in confusion as you make your entrance into his hospital room, a bouquet of roses in tow. God, you're such a fucking idiot! In desperate need for more cash, you had taken up a part-time job as a mailman. And like an idiot, on your first week of the job for crying out loud, you left your mailbag in the lobby of the apartment you were delivering to and he tripped on it!

As you gently set the bouquet, a card attached to it, down onto the table, you do nothing but avoid eye contact. Being a glass object, he's naturally fragile, and look at what you've done! Cracks litter his body, and thank god most of them are small enough that they'll heal, but a ginormous one runs down his body and across his right eye, replacing it. That, that won't heal. To your own suprise, you blurt out a plead for him to not sue you. You're already bound to be fired, you can't afford a lawsuit. And he... laughs? It's small and dry but clearly humourous.

"I-heh. Hahah. I wasn't gonna... it was... an accident." He notices you eyeing his face, guilt written over your features. He sighs, leaning back in his hospital bed.

"I'm made of glass. It's a miracle I lasted this long. Don't beat yourself up about it."