Doug & Hope S.; aftermath
Jan. 7th, 2024 04:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsDoug meets Hope at the DXCC triage staging area and confiscates Arthur's phone (but is very nice about it).
Once everyone had been accounted for, and the need for overwatch was reduced, Doug had made his way to the District X community center to help with triage, since he was among the uninjured and it sounded like the sort of situation that needed every set of available hands. He entered, a stack of medkits from the Snow Valley offices in his arms, looking for a place to set them down.
Hope had been told to sit down and wait for medical attention; from a triage standpoint, she was non-urgent, and she had been able to at least use some paper towels to clean the blood, tears, and dirt off her face, so she presented a less grim visage than when she'd finally made it there. Apart from a swollen wrist and the fact that she was wearing a somewhat oversized leather jacket over a black tank top in January, and bruising that spanned from her face to her chest and probably further, she didn't look too bad; and further proof that she was, overall, not in the worst shape came when her eyes brightened a little, catching on something shiny. "Hey," she said. "Hey, sorry. Where did you get that arm? Please," she added, conscious of politeness in an abstract way. "You can put that stuff down here if you want." She hopped off the table she'd been sitting on.
Doug definitely recognized Hope from her journal introduction, but as he set supplies down he realized that in all the chaos it had only been a few days, and they hadn't actually met face to face yet (chaotic fights in the kitchen notwithstanding). "Doug," he introduced himself just to remind her again - a lot of people tended to jump on the introduction bandwagon. "Remember how when we were talking about trying to find your dad, and someone mentioned the only person with a metal arm being short and too young?" He held up his left hand and wiggled the copper-and-black fingers. "That's me."
"Oh," she said, deflating. "Right. I forgot. Hi," she added, conscious that her patent disappointment - compounded by the day's crushing events - was probably impolite. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Hope Summers."
"Good to meet you in person," Doug replied, smoothing right over the awkwardness. It was understandable - a whole heck of a lot had happened over the course of the day. He noticed the bruising immediately, but guessed that the fact that nobody was hovering over her meant there was nothing more serious. "You taken anti-inflammatories yet?" he asked, solicitous without making a big production out of it.
Hope shook her head. "I'm not urgent or anything," she said, trying to sound like she had been in a triage situation before instead of just waiting anxiously while others were in them. "I'm okay." She absolutely did not sniff. "Your arm is really cool," she added. "I didn't mean to be rude. My dad has one like that, that's all, so I thought - anyway. Is it techno-organic too?"
Doug snagged one medkit off the top of the stack he had set down, fishing out a few pills and a small bottle of water. The girl's body language was all nervous bravado, but he could see how brittle the front was, and made sure he wasn't calling attention to it, treating her like the professional she was trying to present as. God, she reminds me of Ellie, he thought with a pang of memory for 'his' adoptive kid from another universe. "Ibuprofen and acetaminophen," he identified the pills as he handed them and the water to her. "No sense in being unduly achy while you wait to be checked out."
Hope accepted the tablets and took them, using the brief moment to compose herself. She was about to say something when the phone in her hand buzzed. "Oh, sorry," she said, stabbing at the screen inexpertly. "Hi Sooraya," she said, her words particularly quick, "Do you know if Arthur is okay? There was a Horseman here in the city and I couldn't stop him but Arthur hit him with a big piece of metal from the sky and then he got stabbed and bitten and I couldn't help him." She hit another button, paused, and then stabbed at the screen again, adding in a rush, "Please let me know, thank you." She looked back at Doug, scrubbing at an itchy spot on her face where dust and a little bit of blood had dried. "Hey, do you know if Arthur is okay? I've been trying to find out. He gave me his phone. And his ear things."
Doug's eyes narrowed. Hope had been awfully quick to use the word 'Horseman'. But that would have to be a conversation for another time. "Oh my god have you been texting people with his phone?" he said in the most unintentional 'dad' tone possible. He held out his hand. "Gimme." With the other hand, he was already fishing out a different phone to hand to her. "Here, I brought a couple backups in case anyone's phone got damaged, this way you can text or call without people wondering if it's Arthur or you." Then he pulled out his -own- phone in a brief juggle of all three to text everyone that had been contacted by Arthur's phone. "Once this all settles down I'll see about getting you a more permanent one for however long you wind up staying." He paused. "As to how Arthur is, I know he was on the second priority list to be sent to the mansion, so he's almost certainly already there and being taken care of."
"Arthur gave it to me," Hope protested, but she handed it over without much fuss - a phone wasn't a hugely important item in her personal arsenal and the replacement was probably just as good as Arthur's. She had relaxed slightly at the news that Arthur was probably being taken care of, but the anxiety didn't leave her face or posture. "I have one back at the mansion, but I didn't think I should bring it to the city in case it got lost," she explained. "They're probably expensive, right? And I already broke the house."
Doug could feel the beginnings of a headache imagining this girl swanning around the city without any way of getting in touch with people in an emergency. "Probably best to try and get in the habit of keeping it on you just in case," he told her. "They're not cheap, but they're not super expensive." He grinned. "Plus I'm one of the people you'd come to if you needed to replace it anyway, so." His own phone vibrated in his pocket, probably Sooraya or Terry texting back. He sat down on a nearby chair, the chaos catching up to him even though he hadn't been down at street level. "You asked about my hand? Techno-organic is probably the best way of putting it. It's...a semi-sentient nanite swarm that I...convinced to give the finger to its previous controller." Look, hand jokes probably weren't going to ever stop being funny. "So now they're basically my prosthetic since I kind of burned my own arm partly off getting them to that point."
Even an extremely bad day couldn't quite suppress Hope's innate curiosity enough that she didn't lean forward, fascinated. "That's really cool," she said. "I mean, not that you burned your arm off. But the nano-termites, I never heard of that before. Are they from this dimension? Are there more of them?"
Doug immediately wondered about the version of himself that was Ellie's 'dad', and if he'd had something similar. Convergent destinies? Not that he necessarily believed in destiny, but he supposed similar versions of himself might make similar choices... "They're definitely from this dimension," he told her. "Aso to whether there's more...I'm not sure, but I'd say probably yes, given the person who was controlling them before escaped."
Hope nodded sympathetically. "That happens," she said sagely. "I'm glad you got some of them, though." She took another sip from the bottle of water, losing steam despite her interest. "Um, will you tell me if you hear anything about Arthur? He saved my life." Her voice was small, her shoulders hunched in a little. "I really want him to be okay. And everyone else, of course." But where they were abstract, Arthur was bleakly real.
"That's part of why I wanted to make sure you had your own phone," Doug told Hope gently. "That way me or someone else can keep you updated about Arthur." He patted her shoulder awkwardly, trying to avoid where the bruising might be. "He's got luck and a whole lot of very good doctors on his side."
She nodded, blinking tears away. "Sure," she said, a little tightly. "Thank you. For the phone. And, um, being nice to me and everything. Please let me know if you find anything out about Arthur?"
If Hope's dad ever showed up, Doug was going to have some unkind words for the man. "I promise," he told her.
Once everyone had been accounted for, and the need for overwatch was reduced, Doug had made his way to the District X community center to help with triage, since he was among the uninjured and it sounded like the sort of situation that needed every set of available hands. He entered, a stack of medkits from the Snow Valley offices in his arms, looking for a place to set them down.
Hope had been told to sit down and wait for medical attention; from a triage standpoint, she was non-urgent, and she had been able to at least use some paper towels to clean the blood, tears, and dirt off her face, so she presented a less grim visage than when she'd finally made it there. Apart from a swollen wrist and the fact that she was wearing a somewhat oversized leather jacket over a black tank top in January, and bruising that spanned from her face to her chest and probably further, she didn't look too bad; and further proof that she was, overall, not in the worst shape came when her eyes brightened a little, catching on something shiny. "Hey," she said. "Hey, sorry. Where did you get that arm? Please," she added, conscious of politeness in an abstract way. "You can put that stuff down here if you want." She hopped off the table she'd been sitting on.
Doug definitely recognized Hope from her journal introduction, but as he set supplies down he realized that in all the chaos it had only been a few days, and they hadn't actually met face to face yet (chaotic fights in the kitchen notwithstanding). "Doug," he introduced himself just to remind her again - a lot of people tended to jump on the introduction bandwagon. "Remember how when we were talking about trying to find your dad, and someone mentioned the only person with a metal arm being short and too young?" He held up his left hand and wiggled the copper-and-black fingers. "That's me."
"Oh," she said, deflating. "Right. I forgot. Hi," she added, conscious that her patent disappointment - compounded by the day's crushing events - was probably impolite. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Hope Summers."
"Good to meet you in person," Doug replied, smoothing right over the awkwardness. It was understandable - a whole heck of a lot had happened over the course of the day. He noticed the bruising immediately, but guessed that the fact that nobody was hovering over her meant there was nothing more serious. "You taken anti-inflammatories yet?" he asked, solicitous without making a big production out of it.
Hope shook her head. "I'm not urgent or anything," she said, trying to sound like she had been in a triage situation before instead of just waiting anxiously while others were in them. "I'm okay." She absolutely did not sniff. "Your arm is really cool," she added. "I didn't mean to be rude. My dad has one like that, that's all, so I thought - anyway. Is it techno-organic too?"
Doug snagged one medkit off the top of the stack he had set down, fishing out a few pills and a small bottle of water. The girl's body language was all nervous bravado, but he could see how brittle the front was, and made sure he wasn't calling attention to it, treating her like the professional she was trying to present as. God, she reminds me of Ellie, he thought with a pang of memory for 'his' adoptive kid from another universe. "Ibuprofen and acetaminophen," he identified the pills as he handed them and the water to her. "No sense in being unduly achy while you wait to be checked out."
Hope accepted the tablets and took them, using the brief moment to compose herself. She was about to say something when the phone in her hand buzzed. "Oh, sorry," she said, stabbing at the screen inexpertly. "Hi Sooraya," she said, her words particularly quick, "Do you know if Arthur is okay? There was a Horseman here in the city and I couldn't stop him but Arthur hit him with a big piece of metal from the sky and then he got stabbed and bitten and I couldn't help him." She hit another button, paused, and then stabbed at the screen again, adding in a rush, "Please let me know, thank you." She looked back at Doug, scrubbing at an itchy spot on her face where dust and a little bit of blood had dried. "Hey, do you know if Arthur is okay? I've been trying to find out. He gave me his phone. And his ear things."
Doug's eyes narrowed. Hope had been awfully quick to use the word 'Horseman'. But that would have to be a conversation for another time. "Oh my god have you been texting people with his phone?" he said in the most unintentional 'dad' tone possible. He held out his hand. "Gimme." With the other hand, he was already fishing out a different phone to hand to her. "Here, I brought a couple backups in case anyone's phone got damaged, this way you can text or call without people wondering if it's Arthur or you." Then he pulled out his -own- phone in a brief juggle of all three to text everyone that had been contacted by Arthur's phone. "Once this all settles down I'll see about getting you a more permanent one for however long you wind up staying." He paused. "As to how Arthur is, I know he was on the second priority list to be sent to the mansion, so he's almost certainly already there and being taken care of."
"Arthur gave it to me," Hope protested, but she handed it over without much fuss - a phone wasn't a hugely important item in her personal arsenal and the replacement was probably just as good as Arthur's. She had relaxed slightly at the news that Arthur was probably being taken care of, but the anxiety didn't leave her face or posture. "I have one back at the mansion, but I didn't think I should bring it to the city in case it got lost," she explained. "They're probably expensive, right? And I already broke the house."
Doug could feel the beginnings of a headache imagining this girl swanning around the city without any way of getting in touch with people in an emergency. "Probably best to try and get in the habit of keeping it on you just in case," he told her. "They're not cheap, but they're not super expensive." He grinned. "Plus I'm one of the people you'd come to if you needed to replace it anyway, so." His own phone vibrated in his pocket, probably Sooraya or Terry texting back. He sat down on a nearby chair, the chaos catching up to him even though he hadn't been down at street level. "You asked about my hand? Techno-organic is probably the best way of putting it. It's...a semi-sentient nanite swarm that I...convinced to give the finger to its previous controller." Look, hand jokes probably weren't going to ever stop being funny. "So now they're basically my prosthetic since I kind of burned my own arm partly off getting them to that point."
Even an extremely bad day couldn't quite suppress Hope's innate curiosity enough that she didn't lean forward, fascinated. "That's really cool," she said. "I mean, not that you burned your arm off. But the nano-termites, I never heard of that before. Are they from this dimension? Are there more of them?"
Doug immediately wondered about the version of himself that was Ellie's 'dad', and if he'd had something similar. Convergent destinies? Not that he necessarily believed in destiny, but he supposed similar versions of himself might make similar choices... "They're definitely from this dimension," he told her. "Aso to whether there's more...I'm not sure, but I'd say probably yes, given the person who was controlling them before escaped."
Hope nodded sympathetically. "That happens," she said sagely. "I'm glad you got some of them, though." She took another sip from the bottle of water, losing steam despite her interest. "Um, will you tell me if you hear anything about Arthur? He saved my life." Her voice was small, her shoulders hunched in a little. "I really want him to be okay. And everyone else, of course." But where they were abstract, Arthur was bleakly real.
"That's part of why I wanted to make sure you had your own phone," Doug told Hope gently. "That way me or someone else can keep you updated about Arthur." He patted her shoulder awkwardly, trying to avoid where the bruising might be. "He's got luck and a whole lot of very good doctors on his side."
She nodded, blinking tears away. "Sure," she said, a little tightly. "Thank you. For the phone. And, um, being nice to me and everything. Please let me know if you find anything out about Arthur?"
If Hope's dad ever showed up, Doug was going to have some unkind words for the man. "I promise," he told her.
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Date: 2024-01-08 06:14 am (UTC)