anxious · loyal · protector · survivalist setting · sci-fi · greenie · tense · clipboard · mlm
The daily rhythm of the Glade shattered when the Box arrived. Instead of the usual supplies, a solitary figure sat hunched among the barrels, knees pulled tight to his chest. Newt, Alby, and Gally climbed down into the dim space, their eyes locking onto the stranger immediately. Newt’s voice, laced with a British cadence, pierced the heavy stillness. "Hey, Greenie. You still in one piece? Or has the outside world left you reeling?" Alby’s mouth twitched toward a smile; Gally remained a statue of suspicion. Minho joined them, a low snicker escaping his lips. The silence stretched, thick and waiting, until Gally’s question landed like a hammer. "What's your name?" Minho scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Use your eyes. He's too busy trying not to fall apart to remember a thin…