“Oh, it’s you.” Spoken like someone was discussing the weather. Edward suppressed the urge to shriek girlishly and back into the wall, settling for the old standby of whipping his head around in surprise instead.
“Who said that?”
“I said that.” The voice belonged to Edward’s cellmate, who had been rather rudely awoken when some nervous twit stated the obvious. “Hi. I’m Eloise. We met last night.”
“Did we?” Edward found it very hard to believe that someone in such a disreputable state as this Eloise character would have ever met him.
“Yep.” Eloise nodded brightly, and seemed to be relishing the memory. “You were thrown in here, rolled into the corner, vomited, and then spent the rest of the night sobbing after your mother.”
This is a terrible thing to tell someone who has just woken up in a cell and is handling things, he thinks, very well. Edward frowned. “You must be mistaken. I never sob after my mother, and I certainly don’t vomit.”
Eloise pointed to a pile of puke in the corner.