Clarice and Monet, Friday afternoon.
Oct. 12th, 2007 03:44 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsHospitals had never seemed quite so scary before.
There was a smell of disinfectant in the air, scuffs in the worn linoleum on floor and rows of plastic chairs fitted together against the wall. The last time Monet had been in a hospital, her sisters were babies. She hadn't been a telepath then. This time, she was. There was a constant undercurrent of pain, fear and worry. It felt like the ward the MRI and imaging equipment was in was directly below a children's ward. She tried to tell herself that it was just their reflected emotions that were the problem. One of her legs jittered slightly and her hands were clenched in her lap.
"How can it possibly take them that long to look at an old lady? She's old. What's complicated about that?" I want to get out of here.
As much as Clarice wasn't fond of hospitals she was in and out of them and the medlabs often enough as an EMT and X-Man that she could ignore them for the most part. No matter where they were, they all seemed to share a common bond with disinfectant, disease and bad coffee. Taking a sip of hers, Clarice set it down on the little table next to her seat. "The tests are quick, it's the results that take a long time," she tried to reassure her roommate and friend. Things were going to be okay.
"Be funny if I zoned out in the middle of all this, eh? You reckon they'd keep my spot in the line even I was in a position that wouldn't fit into MRI?" Monet tried to focus on the coffee, holding hers carefully, in case her hands gave way and putting it down between each sip. Just in case. It was hard not to think about how many different things might be wrong. "Clarice, I'm supposed to be invulnerable. I shouldn't be. There shouldn't be anything wrong." It came out quietly, almost a whisper.
"Oh come on," Clarice rolled her eyes and gave her roommate a hug, "Invunerable if I punch you maybe. To a psychic attack. But to a creepy nano-virus prion thing? No one is," it wasn't the most reassuring peptalk, but Clarice was more about the practical sometimes, "I mean, I know you're practically perfect in every way, but still human. And humans are vunerable. Even though it sucks."
"Dude. That is so totally not comforting."
A nurse stuck her head out of the door. "Ms St. Croix?"
"…shit. See you in a few minutes?"
"I'll come in if they'll let me," Clarice offered, but the nurse shook her head. "Okay then. I'll wait here. With bells on. You'll be fine!"
Monet waved briefly and followed the nurse in.
There was a smell of disinfectant in the air, scuffs in the worn linoleum on floor and rows of plastic chairs fitted together against the wall. The last time Monet had been in a hospital, her sisters were babies. She hadn't been a telepath then. This time, she was. There was a constant undercurrent of pain, fear and worry. It felt like the ward the MRI and imaging equipment was in was directly below a children's ward. She tried to tell herself that it was just their reflected emotions that were the problem. One of her legs jittered slightly and her hands were clenched in her lap.
"How can it possibly take them that long to look at an old lady? She's old. What's complicated about that?" I want to get out of here.
As much as Clarice wasn't fond of hospitals she was in and out of them and the medlabs often enough as an EMT and X-Man that she could ignore them for the most part. No matter where they were, they all seemed to share a common bond with disinfectant, disease and bad coffee. Taking a sip of hers, Clarice set it down on the little table next to her seat. "The tests are quick, it's the results that take a long time," she tried to reassure her roommate and friend. Things were going to be okay.
"Be funny if I zoned out in the middle of all this, eh? You reckon they'd keep my spot in the line even I was in a position that wouldn't fit into MRI?" Monet tried to focus on the coffee, holding hers carefully, in case her hands gave way and putting it down between each sip. Just in case. It was hard not to think about how many different things might be wrong. "Clarice, I'm supposed to be invulnerable. I shouldn't be. There shouldn't be anything wrong." It came out quietly, almost a whisper.
"Oh come on," Clarice rolled her eyes and gave her roommate a hug, "Invunerable if I punch you maybe. To a psychic attack. But to a creepy nano-virus prion thing? No one is," it wasn't the most reassuring peptalk, but Clarice was more about the practical sometimes, "I mean, I know you're practically perfect in every way, but still human. And humans are vunerable. Even though it sucks."
"Dude. That is so totally not comforting."
A nurse stuck her head out of the door. "Ms St. Croix?"
"…shit. See you in a few minutes?"
"I'll come in if they'll let me," Clarice offered, but the nurse shook her head. "Okay then. I'll wait here. With bells on. You'll be fine!"
Monet waved briefly and followed the nurse in.
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