and ran after him with his scent patches when she realized he left them on his night stand.  He still wasn’t used to wearing them. He still had to wear the thick ones, the ones like those pads in packages of chicken at the grocery store to soak up any liquid, because he was shit at regulating his

own scents, and he’d leak all over the place. The pamphlets and Aunt Mae assured him he’d get the hang of it with more practice, soon he’d be able to switch to the thinner, bandage like patches most of the other people his age wore, once his current ones stopped being soaked through