Disclaimer: For the purposes of this story one has to assume that Dr. Murdoc gets his blood from a hospital nearby,
thus he knows someone on staff, thus I am not insane! He is going to pick a late delivery blah blah blah...
Marty meets a sick girl. Read on.
Untitled
The harsh flourescent lights of the corridor made the edges of every object appear too sharp, vivid to the degree of being surreal. Marty cast a glance to a few wheel chairs that sat, slightly askew, next to the nauseating egg-shell white wall to his left and found himself toying idly with the idea of challenging Dr. Murdoch to a race as they continued walking to the nurse's station.
The girl at the desk could have been little more than seventeen. The shrill lighting made her skin faintly yellow as though jaundiced and briefly the pale pink of her lips caught the lurid luminescence and gleamed a garish red. She was wearing the garb of a candy-striper, a red and white striped uniform and a tag that proclaimed her name was 'Joy'. Her hair was the semi-sun-bleached blonde one would associate with old beach party movies, though her face was pleasant enough and Marty gave her a half-hearted smile.
"Excuse me, miss?" Dr. Murdoch said, his voice hinting with the same authority he used to subdue his unruly blood-sucking charges.
"Yes?" she raised her head from some haphazard notes she had been taking, revealing a set of striking blue eyes as she turned her attention to the two standing at her desk.
Dr. Murdoch cleared his throat, "I have had an arrangement with this," he paused as though searching for the right word then pressed on, "establishment for a few months time now." He met the girl's gaze, "I have never had any extreme problem in receiving a shipment. Yet it seems this time your superiors have entirely overlooked the fact that they have an order to deliver to me and..."
"Dr. Murdoch?" the girl's face lit with sudden recognition. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all day but I couldn't get through. Mr...um...Dr. Fitzgerald told me that I was to tell you that the delivery man is ill and that you'd have to come and make the pick-up yourself," she blushed furiously and stood up, "Of course, you seem to have already figured that bit out on your own. I can show you where the boxes are..."
Dr. Murdoch sighed, seeming genuinely relieved by the fact that he wouldn't have a pack of hungry vampiric adolescents to deal with, "That would be very kind. Thank you." He turned from the girl to face Marty, "Marty? come along."
"I'll just wait here," Marty leaned against the desk, pretending he didn't see Dr. Murdoch's wary expression. "I'll play nice, I promise," he added as an afterthought.
"You'll stay right there," Murdoch raised a brow, his voice not questioning but suddenly commanding.
"Sure."
"Fine," Dr. Murdoch said in the tone of a defeated father giving in to a child's whine for a toy. He threw a slightly disapproving glance over his shoulder as he and the girl began walking, turned a corner and disappeared.
"Hello," a little voice called. Marty peered into the room across the hall, which seemed to be the source of the gentle greeting, to see a small girl smiling at him from a hospital bed. She lay with her head turned towards him, the rough flannel hospital cover drawn up around her thin neck. Her face was serene as a cherub's and the smile she wore made her features all the more soft and warm. "What's your name?" she questioned in the same devastatingly sweet tone.
He moved a little nearer to the doorway, "I'm Marty. What's your name, kid?"
"Sara."
"Hello Sara," he felt himself returning her smile as he leaned against the doorframe. "What are you in for? Having your tonsils out or something?"
"No," she said softly, her voice exchanging all of its sweetness for an underlying sound of hurt. Her vivid dark gaze wandered for a moment, then she turned back to him and was again all smiles and jovial innocence as she held out a half-finished chocolate pudding cup in his direction, "Want some? It's pretty good."
Marty wrinkled his nose at the prospect, "Eww, chocolate pudding? How did you ever develop a taste for that nasty stuff?"
Sara pressed a small hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I like you," she said in that oddly matter-of-fact way all children state their thoughts. She looked up at him and grinned, her straight black hair falling forward to slightly obscure her small, pale face, like a veil of mourning.
"You like me?" he paused, "Heh, I don't normally get that reaction."
A look of bewilderment touched her features, "Why not?"
"I'm just so scary and mean," he feigned a growl.
She raised an eyebrow, "My big brother's scarier than that...oh, and he smells funny." She hesitated and then concluded, "He's meaner too, he took my doll and pulled off her head."
"Oh, that monster!" Marty cried in mock alarm, pressing his hands to either side of his face to look comically like a frightened victim in some B-Horror-Flick. "He has to be stopped."
Between giggles she asked, "Could you maybe come in and play a game with me, Marty?"
"I'd like that," he moved to her bedside and sat in a poorly cushioned chair. She fumbled for a deck of cards that sat on the table beside the bed and then lay them on the mattress beside her. Marty eyed them curiously, "Do you know how to play poker, Sara?"
"No, I only know 'Go-Fish'."
"Would you like me to teach you?"
Her head bobbed eagerly in reply and another beautiful smile made her face sun-shine bright. He gathered the cards into his hands and shuffled.
thus he knows someone on staff, thus I am not insane! He is going to pick a late delivery blah blah blah...
Marty meets a sick girl. Read on.
Untitled
The harsh flourescent lights of the corridor made the edges of every object appear too sharp, vivid to the degree of being surreal. Marty cast a glance to a few wheel chairs that sat, slightly askew, next to the nauseating egg-shell white wall to his left and found himself toying idly with the idea of challenging Dr. Murdoch to a race as they continued walking to the nurse's station.
The girl at the desk could have been little more than seventeen. The shrill lighting made her skin faintly yellow as though jaundiced and briefly the pale pink of her lips caught the lurid luminescence and gleamed a garish red. She was wearing the garb of a candy-striper, a red and white striped uniform and a tag that proclaimed her name was 'Joy'. Her hair was the semi-sun-bleached blonde one would associate with old beach party movies, though her face was pleasant enough and Marty gave her a half-hearted smile.
"Excuse me, miss?" Dr. Murdoch said, his voice hinting with the same authority he used to subdue his unruly blood-sucking charges.
"Yes?" she raised her head from some haphazard notes she had been taking, revealing a set of striking blue eyes as she turned her attention to the two standing at her desk.
Dr. Murdoch cleared his throat, "I have had an arrangement with this," he paused as though searching for the right word then pressed on, "establishment for a few months time now." He met the girl's gaze, "I have never had any extreme problem in receiving a shipment. Yet it seems this time your superiors have entirely overlooked the fact that they have an order to deliver to me and..."
"Dr. Murdoch?" the girl's face lit with sudden recognition. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all day but I couldn't get through. Mr...um...Dr. Fitzgerald told me that I was to tell you that the delivery man is ill and that you'd have to come and make the pick-up yourself," she blushed furiously and stood up, "Of course, you seem to have already figured that bit out on your own. I can show you where the boxes are..."
Dr. Murdoch sighed, seeming genuinely relieved by the fact that he wouldn't have a pack of hungry vampiric adolescents to deal with, "That would be very kind. Thank you." He turned from the girl to face Marty, "Marty? come along."
"I'll just wait here," Marty leaned against the desk, pretending he didn't see Dr. Murdoch's wary expression. "I'll play nice, I promise," he added as an afterthought.
"You'll stay right there," Murdoch raised a brow, his voice not questioning but suddenly commanding.
"Sure."
"Fine," Dr. Murdoch said in the tone of a defeated father giving in to a child's whine for a toy. He threw a slightly disapproving glance over his shoulder as he and the girl began walking, turned a corner and disappeared.
"Hello," a little voice called. Marty peered into the room across the hall, which seemed to be the source of the gentle greeting, to see a small girl smiling at him from a hospital bed. She lay with her head turned towards him, the rough flannel hospital cover drawn up around her thin neck. Her face was serene as a cherub's and the smile she wore made her features all the more soft and warm. "What's your name?" she questioned in the same devastatingly sweet tone.
He moved a little nearer to the doorway, "I'm Marty. What's your name, kid?"
"Sara."
"Hello Sara," he felt himself returning her smile as he leaned against the doorframe. "What are you in for? Having your tonsils out or something?"
"No," she said softly, her voice exchanging all of its sweetness for an underlying sound of hurt. Her vivid dark gaze wandered for a moment, then she turned back to him and was again all smiles and jovial innocence as she held out a half-finished chocolate pudding cup in his direction, "Want some? It's pretty good."
Marty wrinkled his nose at the prospect, "Eww, chocolate pudding? How did you ever develop a taste for that nasty stuff?"
Sara pressed a small hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I like you," she said in that oddly matter-of-fact way all children state their thoughts. She looked up at him and grinned, her straight black hair falling forward to slightly obscure her small, pale face, like a veil of mourning.
"You like me?" he paused, "Heh, I don't normally get that reaction."
A look of bewilderment touched her features, "Why not?"
"I'm just so scary and mean," he feigned a growl.
She raised an eyebrow, "My big brother's scarier than that...oh, and he smells funny." She hesitated and then concluded, "He's meaner too, he took my doll and pulled off her head."
"Oh, that monster!" Marty cried in mock alarm, pressing his hands to either side of his face to look comically like a frightened victim in some B-Horror-Flick. "He has to be stopped."
Between giggles she asked, "Could you maybe come in and play a game with me, Marty?"
"I'd like that," he moved to her bedside and sat in a poorly cushioned chair. She fumbled for a deck of cards that sat on the table beside the bed and then lay them on the mattress beside her. Marty eyed them curiously, "Do you know how to play poker, Sara?"
"No, I only know 'Go-Fish'."
"Would you like me to teach you?"
Her head bobbed eagerly in reply and another beautiful smile made her face sun-shine bright. He gathered the cards into his hands and shuffled.
