The tour.

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After several minutes of embrace, the girl stirs.
"What's up?" the boy asks, suddenly alert.
"I have to pee."
The boy sits up, stretches, and offers his hand to the girl. She giggles and accepts it. He leads her up the stairs and out of the room. In the direction they came, he walks her to a blue door and pushes it open.
"Thanks." She closes the door behind her, and the boy can hear the lock click. He slumps down against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. His jeans have a tear on the left knee, at which he picks absentmindedly, widening the hole that displays his flesh, strikingly pale against the black denim and the long, dark hairs that spring from his legs. He is relieved when the girl emerges from the bathroom, looking more relaxed than she has since the bath. The boy scrambles to his feet as the girl voices her next concern.
"I'm hungry. What do you eat?" The boy feels a giddiness in his chest, though does not quite understand why. "I mostly have salads," he muses. "I don't do a lot of activity down here, and I don't really get that hungry." He smiles sadly, then perks up as an idea crosses his mind. "You ever had cake?" he asks, grinning.
"I know what it is, but we didn't get much fancy food in the lab, and it's hard to find in dumpsters." The girl looks up at him. "Why? Do you have cake?"
"I have anything you want." The boy leads her further down the hallway, past the hospital room, and through a pair of pink doors. This room is small and simple, with a single tabletop held up by a thick, metal cylinder that runs through it and up to the ceiling. The boy pulls out one of two half-basket chairs from the table, offering it to the girl. After she takes a seat, he pulls the other chair around and sits to her right. At a swipe of his hand, the glass tabletop glows to life. The girl watches as he scrolls through menus full of words moving too fast for her to read. He selects an option, taps through a few more screens, then completes his order. The metal cylinder vibrates. There is a whoosh of pistons, and a previously traceless door slides in and to the right. There, sitting on what appears to be some sort of plate elevator, is a cake.
The cake is tall and narrow; it is comprised of a base of chocolate pound cake, with the top half being cheesecake with chocolate swirls. The sides are encrusted with shards of chocolate, and the top boasts crisscrosses of chocolate syrup, as well as a geometric chocolate garnish on one side. The boy removes the cake from the cylinder, and the door slides shut. He taps through a few more menus, and the cylinder delivers a stack of two ceramic plates, two forks, several napkins, and a large cake server. The girl's mouth waters as he cuts her an enormous slice, nearly a quarter of the cake, and slides the plate in front of her. She begins to inhale the cake, and looks up only a minute later to find the boy toying with a much smaller piece. He gestures towards her empty plate.

"Would you like some more?" The girl nods eagerly. He cuts her another, even larger piece of cake, this one easily a quarter. She digs in with relish, savoring the rich, sweet chocolate, and the dense, creamy cheesecake. The chocolate shavings melt on her tongue, and the pound cake is moist and decadent. By the time she finishes this piece, the boy is still only three quarters done with his first. Not even paying attention to how full she is getting, the girl reaches out towards the plate, about to cut herself another chunk of the cake, of which slightly less than half is remaining. She is cut short as the boy pushes the plate towards her, then lifts it slightly and sets it on top of hers. She looks at him, confused.
"Don't you want any more?" She tilts her head. The boy has a look in his eyes similar to hunger, which she is misinterpreting.
"I'm good."
The girl turns back to the cake, this having been the answer she wanted to hear. More for her. She abandons her fork and begins to pick up chunks of cake with her hands, shoving them into her mouth almost faster than she can swallow. About halfway through, she begins to slow down. The boy is suddenly alert. He doesn't want to force her again, but he knows he can't let her stop. His heart begins to race as she reaches the last eighth of the cake.
To the boy's delight, the girl does not stop. She is in a trancelike state, the cake overpowering her senses. She has literally never tasted food like this before and is not going to let any go to waste. As she swallows the last bite of cake and licks her fingers, she notices the boy staring at her, and she snaps back into reality.
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, I-- um, I kind of-" she stammers, mortified. The boy grins and picks up a napkin. He takes her hands in his and daintily wipes them clean, then does the same for her face. Still silent, yet still visibly elated, he sweeps the plates and other utensils together and into the cylinder, which closes and whirs.
The girl leans back in her chair, suddenly aware of the dense amount of food packed in her tiny stomach. She lets loose a loud burp, then covers her mouth, her face bright red.
"Aaah, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" she wails. The boy turns to her, his face as red as hers, yet still sporting a dopey grin.
"Don't be. You're fine." He stands up. Taking her hands in his, he pulls the girl to her feet. She staggers a few steps, panting a little. "Here, come with me," he says, leading her to the door.
They move slowly, the girl's movement inhibited by the combination of feeling stuffed and of still getting used to walking again. After several long minutes, during which the boy whispers soothing words and strokes the girl's hair, they arrive at another door. This door is a light wood, with shiny finish, as well as a semicircular stained-glass window with an image of a water lily. He gently turns the knob and guides the girl in, and the lights flicker on to reveal a simple bedroom with warm yellow walls, a tall, queen-sized bed covered with quilts, an oak dresser with four drawers, and a small bathroom, door partially ajar. The girl is sleepy now, and makes her way over to the bed. The boy helps her hoist herself up and onto the mattress; it is well above her waist height. He sighs, and is about to turn to leave, when the girl feebly paws at his hand.
"Hey," she yawns. "Stay. Please." The boy's heart leaps into his throat, and he climbs onto the bed next to her. She rolls over, and they are facing each other, two lonely young people in an isolated world. He kisses her on the forehead, then pulls her to his chest. She falls asleep, warm, full, and content.


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