Jon pressed his head on the back of the couch and arched his shoulders, but that only made the pain worse. His spine resisted holding him up; his break was located around the L4 vertebra, mostly healed now, but the repercussions shot lightning bolts of pain both up his spinal cord and down his legs when he pushed himself too much. He squirmed side to side. The process of hauling his sack of potatoes body from the couch into the wheelchair and then rolling it into bed seemed daunting. Too many steps. Even lying himself down on the couch would be a complicated exercise. "Ella," he called in the direction of the kitchen. "Can you get my full-body brace? It's in my closet." She came to the doorway, frowning. "What do you need that for? Doesn't the rod hold you up now?" "I can't move," he complained. "Look, if you don't want to help, don't help." "Do you want a hand transferring?" Ella asked, gesturing toward the wheelchair. "No," Jon grumbled. The idea of her arm around him, yanking him upward, made him flinch. "I'll get it," she assured him, and then, "Is this something we should call your team about?" He shook his head, watching his sister breezily dance away like the little girl she'd been altogether too recently, feeling terrible that he'd forced her to become an expert caregiver at age 22; although he was only 25 himself. He'd derailed both of their lives, and though he felt crushing self-pity on his own behalf, Ella's loss was almost worse because she'd done nothing to bring it on herself.

ZZ Arzamastsev: - He's short - 5'5" - and of indeterminate ethnicity - He speaks French fluently, but his grammar is sloppy and his accent is terrible. He's never learned 'proper' French. - He's effusive and extroverted, some may say flamboyant, but he's not particularly femme. In spite of his size, he tends to be the more masc partner in his relationships. - He's a theater kid through and through and works in the NYC theater industry whenever he can.

I'd like to start answering for ZZ, but I don't have much of his life story worked out yet. This is a hard one to start with; it seems like he's a ball of fiery willpower and never changes his mind at all. Hmm. I wrote a scene once where he asks his lesbian friend if she'd like to have a fake relationship with him. But I think he goes back on that. He ends up back in NYC after having a traumatic childhood experience there. So maybe he vowed never to return, but then he did anyway.

I don't know. I suppose it depends on who you ask. My French skills are a little weak, but still too much for a reader who would prefer not to see any French at all.

"There's a girl in one of my classes named Trinity," Ella laughed. "It's a pretty name; just interesting." "Ugh, I know her," Maurice blurted out, and immediately regretted it. "Really? How?" Ella asked, understandably curious. "Just at school," he mumbled, trying to get out of an explanation, but he and Ella had started at the university at the same time, and although they'd been strangers then, the possibility of mutual acquaintances couldn't help but intrigue. "She dated my roommate for a while." "Who was your roommate?" Ella sounded more surprised than he was comfortable with. "Um... guy named Paul." "Paul Kopalik?" "No." "Paul what, then? Which Paul?" Maurice shrugged. "I dunno. We?weren't friends." The first part of that was a total lie, but the second was not only quite true, but an understatement. "I'll ask Trinity," said Ella. "Don't! Please don't," pleaded Maurice. "Why n-- okay, I won't," said Ella. "Please don't," Maurice said again. "I won't! It's not my problem," Ella assured him. She'd been a bullied child herself, after all, and it wasn't a stretch for her to imagine her friends in similar situations.