Oscar moved slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Jamie was getting too close for comfort. What did he want? Would he do the things his father did when he was mad or feeling strange? Oscar hoped he wouldn't be forced fed, so picked up the toast and tried to finish it. "Daddy makes me wear dresses sometimes." He gagged a bit on the dry toast, leaning over and vomiting into the bucket that was there in case he couldn't make it to the bathroom. "My tummy doesn't like this toast..."

He tried to even out his breathing, wiping his mouth with a towel nearby and grimacing up at Jamie. He had a strange look on his face, something like pity mixed with disgust. His father usually yelled at him for being sick in front of him. He prepared himself to be shouted at, rubbing his soft pink eyes with a stump of a left hand.

Jamie's heart ached for the young man. What was his name? Had Day actually mentioned that? When Jamie heard him speak of his 'doll', he never used an actual name. He looked at least twenty, yet seemed to have the mindset of a child. No television in the room, no novels, and the door was locked. His father dressed him, took care of him, was probably the only person that ever even spoke to him. "You don't have to eat the toast." Jamie said, shifting a little and curling up on himself. "If you want... Well, I could make you something else later. Maybe something that doesn't make you feel bad." He didn't want to screw anything up. Apparently the young man didn't have a specific diet, because most of the time whatever Jamie cooked had to have been eaten by him.

"I just... I want something to drink... Something to settle the gurgling in my tummy..." He wasn't given much to drink, usually he had to drink water from the tap in the bathroom. He didn't know why his father never gave him drinks, he was sure his father loved him and cared for him. Maybe if he didn't drink so much he wouldn't be so sick. "I'm sorry for being sick."

Jamie smiled a little, standing and stretching. "I'll get you some water, that should help. And don't apologize, you can't help it. I understand you're sick, you shouldn't have to say sorry." Turning, Jamie obsessively pulled his hands down the back of his skirt. For some reason he felt so much more revealed before this one. Maybe because he wasn't Franklin Day. He was the son of Franklin Day, and he had never seen Jamie before today. In the bathroom he found no cups. Knitting his brows, Jamie stepped out. "I'll be right back, okay?" He hurried to the door, slipping out to get a cup from the kitchen.

Oscar didn't like how the door remained open. He imagined all the germs and bugs from the house floating through the air and coming into his room. He shuddered as if he could feel them landing on his face and blankets. He crawled out of bed and hid under it, feeling safer from the germs there. His silky socks made his toes itch, so he took them off, looking at his pale skin and long nails. His father hadn't cut his nails in awhile, which made Oscar relieved. He hated getting his nails cut.

Jamie found a plastic glass in the cupboard, making sure it was clean before filling it halfway with water and hurrying back upstairs. He felt oddly watched. Watched throughout the entire house. It was probably that paranoia. The feel that Day were able to watch him even while Jamie was alone in the house---or at least, mostly alone. Stepping back into the room, Jamie looked around curiously, then spotted the bump in the bed. He closed the door, moving forward. "Hey, you okay?" He didn't quite touch the lump that made up the young man---he stopped just a couple feet away.

"Germs... You let them in... You didn't lock the door. Anything could have happened to me while you were gone..." He sobbed, hugging himself and wishing his father hadn't gone away. The last time this happened, Oscar was left alone for a few days. He survived just fine, though he was hungry when his father came back. Would Jamie be in his room all the time? Letting in germs and possibly plotting to hurt him? He peeked out from under his bed, seeing the glass of water and the concerned look. "I miss my Daddy. When will he be back?"

Jamie gasped, setting the glass down and getting on his knees to come to a smaller stance. He was already small, but anything to make himself seem less... threatening to the young man was obviously called for. "He'll be home in two days, I promise. And I'm sorry, next time I'll close the door... But I keep the house very clean, it's all I really do here. I'd never let any harmful bacteria in to make you sick or dirty. Please come out... you should drink some water, it's clean, I made sure." He looked at the bedside table, where the glass was sitting.

"You clean...?" Oscar crawled out from under the bed and peered at Jamie. The man cleaned his father's house, of course he'd make sure there weren't any evil germs or bugs around. He sniffed and climbed back on his bed, his legs shaking from the effort as he laid back down. He picked up the glass with his good hand and sipped it, feeling his unsettled stomach soothe a bit.

"Will you make sure there are no germs in my room?"