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Darmon puts a hand against the closed door, and it opens back up. A flood of chatter arrives again, and he finally remembers how loud it is to be fungal. A glowing light leads him to Vai. She’s still at the clinic, finishing up her task before turning to hear his report.

“From what I can tell, she’s just as I remember. Her personality was more ambitious than I was, and that seems to work well to nest alpha motes,” his report was taken well, the network informing him that Vai was smiling.

“I did have one request. Do you have more food? More of my people will want to eat soon, if they haven’t already,” Darmon feels that strange, secondhand embarrassment from others in earshot, but Vai seems very professional about it.

“Of course. That is completely understandable. We may have to call for communal provisioners from a public kitchen, as our staff is busy with the new treatment,” her light orange hand touched a wall and Darmon could swear the wall blushed. What is with this place and unspoken rules?

He wondered why a hospital wouldn’t have food for the day-to-day, but attempted to keep that thought for himself. A large influx of human patients was not their typical clientele, and fungi might not eat as frequently.