A drop here, a drop there (a one-shots/snippet book)

A Sense of Home 1-4 (Hp/WtNV drabbles)

On the other side, the children stopped dead. Confused looks were shared as they looked around, but the "Freak" they were chasing was nowhere to be seen.

It was a dead end, and the garbage was empty so he can't have hid there.

At the end of the alley was a blank wall, no old oak doors to be found.

2.

"Uhm, Carlos?"

"Hm?" Carlos narrowed his eyes when the liquid in the beaker turned electric blue instead of the expected hot pink. He took notes.

"A child just appeared."

"What does it say?" He asked distractedly when white precipitation appeared in the electric blue. There was more furious note taking with his nonpen.

"I don't think it's-he's a messenger child from the City Council. He doesn't look dead," Nilanjana said, before her voice fell into a quiet and soothing tone. "Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt you. Are you lost?"

Carlos blinked when it turned periwinkle yellow suddenly, before sighing and turning the bunsen burner off. The burner let out a sigh of relief and Carlos made a mental note to check it for any signs of damage or degradation later. He turned, only to blink at seeing that yes, it's a child that somehow got inside the lab.

The child was trembling badly and gasping for breath as if from great physical exertion, and the way his wide eyes wildly moved around his surroundings suggested that he was as clueless as to how he got here as them. He was huddling against a wall next to a cabinet, with Nilanjana kneeling a ways in front of him.

"How about you tell me how you got here? I won't get mad, promise," she continued. The child's gaze settled on her and seemed to calm down slightly at her smile. Carlos stayed where he was, leaning against the table behind him with a curious look, not wanting to interrupt and scare the boy more.

"I-" The child stopped, eyes dropping down to the floor as he fidgeted with the hem of his worn sweater. "You wouldn't believe me." He had an accent, definitely not American. Then what he said registered and a grin spread itself on Carlos' face.

"Try me," Nilanjana challenged, also with her own grin, which made the boy relax more when he looked back up at her and saw it.

"I...I was running from my cousin and his friends. And I saw this old oak door I haven't seen before. It was the only escape, and then I was here."

Nilanjana and Carlos exchanged a glance. An old oak door. The child looked between them with a wary expression.

"Tell me," Nilanjana started, "you're not from America, are you?"

The boy stared at her confused before nodding.

Nilanjana did her best to gentle her tone even more. "Because you're in America right now."

The boy stared at her even more, now with his mouth slightly open.

Carlos suppressed a sigh. He knew that people just sometimes ended up in town whether they meant to or not, but why did it have to be a child? Most of them had parents and a whole life ahead of them that didn't have potential death and violence hiding at every corner.

"How about we talk about this over hot chocolate? Do you like hot chocolate?" Nilanjana asked.

The boy looked uncertain and a little shy. "I never had hot chocolate before."