poly_chromatic | 030: VIDEO

[Chase is in one of the hospital pathology labs, a centrifuge whirring away on the desk in front of him. He's flicking through a messy looking sheaf of paper.]

I'm starting to understand why the City Guide has an entire section on zombie handling strategy. Someone told me they used to be a regular problem, here. Anyone long-term enough to be able to tell me about that?

[He's about to ask another question, but a second voice, deep and rolling, curiously accented, interrupts.]

What is an enemy to you, Doctor?

[Chase's head snaps up. He takes a gasp as though the breath has been punched out of him.]

You're not here. You're never really h—

[But the voice comes again, and as Chase moves, the picture on his device swings to show a man in a tattered, bloodied surgical gown, the flesh rotting away from his face.]

Men make choices.

[The zombie sweeps a rack of equipment to the floor, and the screen goes black.]

[ooc: Chase's ghoul is ~~Darth Vader~~ ~~Mufasa~~ ~~James Earl Jones~~ Dibala, the genocidal dictator of a small African nation, who he murdered shortly before arriving in the city. Dibala will be/have been around for a little bit to bother anyone at the hospital.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's considerably simpler if you ignore the nightmare on the floor and focus on the next problem, she thinks. Telling him rather than asking is a gamble. A distraction, which seems not to hurt at least. She leans heavily on him, pulling herself off the floor and pushing herself upright, a bit wobbly but apparently intact. She kicks off her shoes-- she doesn't even want to speculate about what's coating the low heels-- and tests her weight on either side. A bit numb from being knocked around and bruised, but her leg doesn't buckle. That's a good sign, at least.]

I can walk, just... Stay close?

[Not entirely for physical support. She has no doubt that he's just saved her life, right now she doesn't want to be alone with the implications of what could have happened had things gone differently.]

[She's smart and practical. There's something in his brain - in all of theirs - that necessarily kicks in when expectations are put on them. A few years on call would hone it into anyone.

The arm he keeps locked with hers is trembling but it holds, and he almost, almost manages to sound amused rather than just desperate when he replies.]

Babe, I'm not planning on letting go.

[This is something she may find irritating when she discovers it extends to sitting by her bed through the oncoming fevers. For now they need to go.]

[Plenty of time to rave and curse his name when the delirium sets in. She's not even going to chide him for his choice of endearment, focused as she is on hobbling toward safety and-- hopefully-- enough antibiotics to keep this day from getting worse.]

Okay, [she breathes, not in response. She's telling herself, really.] Let's go.

[It's a small slip. Circumstance has made him forget the months spent re-learning what name to call her, much less that affection is not allowed. Right now the main thing is getting them to somewhere he can take a proper look at that leg.

(His fault. Time for the self-flagellation later, too.)

With an arm around her waist, he takes her weight as they climb the next flight of stairs, rather than waiting for her to lean more heavily. It's quicker, and speed is of the essence.

Not far past that there are double doors which self-lock reassuringly behind them, and a hall which leads down toward the surgical assessment unit.]

[It's not entirely unwelcome, just deeply confusing. Right now, it doesn't even register as a concern.

The click of the doors relieves a little of her anxiety, and she sags a bit more. She's dimly aware of things-- the floor is freezing, the two of them must look like hell-- but it's difficult to focus. She's not hurt that badly, but the adrenaline is ebbing and she's not sure how much longer she can keep going.

On the bright side, however murky things are between them personally, she trusts him to get her through this.

Even after what she just watched him do.]

[Truth be told, there's a large part of Chase that wants nothing more than to find another lockable door and shut it on the world, until he's had time to sit and stare into nothing for long enough that the nerve tremors subside. Until he's numbed himself long enough to push the images from today back into a manageable haze, preferably with the aid of something with a hefty percent proof.

But he'll keep going as long as he's needed. At least there's bright light here, the strip lights which usually seem harsh are now a reassuring glare. It's harder to imagine darkness when the world is bright.

The SAU is empty, but the ER along the corridor bustles with activity, another reassurance. Though if they head that way there will be twenty people waiting with demands. He needs to look at her leg.]

In here.

[There are empty exam rooms all along the corridor. No one's having non-emergency surgery today - Chase should know.]

[Honestly, for once she might be inclined to give him a pass on coping the wrong way. If only because then she could worry about that instead of seeing him wield a fire extinguisher again.

She nods absently, reaching to push open the door he chooses. God, they should have taken a sample to test for rabies. She should've kept her shoes.]

It's not deep,

[she says, mainly because she needs to say something, trying to pull away as she hobbles in. She's just eager to get her weight off it.]

030: VIDEO

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;