Chapter 2 - Check Up
Alfred was always the first to rise in his master's estate; in fact, he wouldn't be surprised if he was the first one to wake in all of Bumblyburg. The asparagus rose from his bed, hastily hopped into the shower, and slipped on his trademark tuxedo while adjusting his bowtie in front of the bathroom mirror.
But Alfred set aside his pride and frowned when he remembered the previous night's events, and more importantly, their new guest. He made his way towards the guest room that he gave to Angel last night, swearing to himself that if she was moved again, he would give her a stern talking to. Sure enough, as soon as he knocked and received no answer, he assumed the worse and peeked inside, sighing when Angel was nowhere to be found; however, the blankets on the bed were thrown over messily, which obviously meant that she gotten some sleep.
He navigated through the halls in search of Angel, but still couldn't find any sign of her. Alfred even grew paranoid enough to check Larry's room to ensure that she hadn't murdered him in his sleep. Luckily, after sneaking into his master's room, Alfred noticed that Larry was sleeping peacefully with his usual light snores. With that, Alfred continued his search throughout the mansion, and eventually figured that if Angel wasn't in the upper levels of the house, then she must be…oh, no.
Alfred sprinted for the elevator that led down to his master's alter ego's secret lair, and the faint sound of music became closer to farther he descended.
What on earth is she doing down here? Alfred pondered in fear, rushing out of the elevator when it stopped. He noticed that all the lights in their lair were on, which is odd because he always makes sure to turn them off at the end of the day. He looked around frantically until he came up to the computer mainframe that he operated when communicating with Larry over long distances, and used its search engines to inform him of any current crimes. Alfred scoffed when he finally found Angel slouching in his ergonomics chair with an upbeat music video playing quite loudly on his computers.
Without warning, Alfred stomped over and closed the browser, interrupting the music, much to Angel's dismay; she wanted to get in his face, but she didn't want to risk hurting her ribcage again, so she remained slouched in her seat while glaring daggers at Alfred as he walked around her and scowled back.
"What do you think you're doing?" he began with a growl.
"Trying not to be bored. What's so bad about that?" Angel replied flatly.
"Oh, just the fact that you're trespassing on and using someone else's personal property. If you wanted to entertain yourself, there is a television back upstairs that you can watch at your leisure. But this area is strictly prohibited."
"Look, just because I didn't ask, doesn't mean I did any real damage." Angel then turned the chair around to face away with a huff, to which Alfred rolled his eyes and walked around to face her again.
"How did you even get down here without hurting yourself?"
"It hurts to lift heavy things and laugh, not push elevator buttons, Mr. Tea Bags."
"No need to bring the sticky subject of stereotypes into this, Missy."
"I'm just tryin' to lighten the mood since you clearly don't have a sense of humor."
"What's funny and boring is not what's important here, Angel. If your ribs are to heal properly, you need to let me help you."
The albino asparagus grunted, as she slowly and clumsily began lifting herself off of the chair. She collapsed forward from the pain as soon as she slid off, but Alfred luckily caught her in time and slowly helped her stand up straight. Angel hated to admit it, but she really did need his help.
"Fine—but only because all this pain is really annoying," Angel huffed in defeat.
"Good," Alfred simply stated while adjusting himself to keep Angel leaning against, and pulled out his cell phone. After typing in a set of numbers, he brought the phone to his ear and waited a moment before someone answered, "Yes, hello? My name is Alfred Benson, and I need to set an appointment for my friend. She's had an accident, and her ribcage is broken. When can I have an appointment scheduled with Ms. Haffen? …Three o'clock? …Thank you so much, Ma'am."
Alfred hung up at that and turned to Angel, "Come on, we've got to get you out to my scooter. We're going to the doctor's to get you checked out, and prescribed some medication."
"Why do I need-ow…m-medication? Ribs just heal on their own," Angel protested with a hiss of pain, as she reluctantly followed Alfred towards the exit.
"Yes, but getting the correct medication will help the pain subside."
"I guess that makes sense…"
"It's perfectly valid."
Angel followed the rest of the way in silence, with the occasional grunt of pain, until they reached a warded off garage where a single electric scooter sat in the darkness. He helped her up to the scooter, but she swatted him away when trying to mount the ride by herself; she nearly failed like she had when getting off of the chair, but she managed to keep her balance. Alfred said nothing when he grabbed a spare helmet and handed it to Angel, to which she refused to look in his eyes or even thank him, as she snatched it from him and put it on. Alfred then slipped on his own helmet and hopped on, making sure to avoid bumping Angel as she sat behind him.
"You good back there?" Alfred asked out of concern, to which Angel merely nodded; soon after, the scooter's engine revved and jolted forward, causing Angel to wince and lean forward to grab hold of Alfred in order to stay on.
And as the two rode off towards the city, Alfred failed to notice the strange, red creature in Angel's bag. Red peeked his head out from under the flap and grinned, feeling quite confident that today's little adventure will be quite tasteful.
Alfred carefully helped Angel off of the scooter when they arrived at the doctor's office, and she was quick to raise the hood of her trench coat up over her head to hide her face as best as she could.
"Why are you wearing your hood up? We're going indoors," Alfred pointed out in confusion while holding the door open for Angel.
"Why don't you just respect my privacy, and we'll leave at that?" Angel hissed under her breath, which silenced Alfred as he rolled his eyes. She took a seat in the waiting room while he walked up to the receptionist to check in for their appointment; not a moment later, Alfred returned from the receptionist's window and took a seat next to Angel.
The two remained in awkward silence for several moments, with Alfred occupying himself with a magazine and Angel just staring off into oblivion. Luckily, it wasn't two minutes later that the receptionist called out Angel's name, but Alfred was quick to stand up and follow her.
"I didn't ask you to go with me," Angel hissed under her breath.
"Too bad. The doctor is likely going to ask how you got hurt, but you can't just tell her you were nearly hit by a meteorite," Alfred explained with a whisper, to which Angel sighed in defeat.
"Whatever."
With that, the two asparagi entered the doctor's office and followed the receptionist to the appropriate room. But even when Alfred carried Angel's bag for her, they both failed to notice the suspicious red object that jumped out of the bag and chuckled darkly.
Soon enough, an apple dressed in a white doctor's coat with a clipboard in her grasp walked in, and closed the door behind her.
"Hello there. My name is Ms. Haffen," the apple introduced herself to Angel, "What seems to be the trouble?"
"I broke my ribs," Angel answered flatly.
"Oh, dear. Well, just to be safe, I'm going to perform a little physical check up," Ms. Haffen informed while removing a sphygmomanometer from its hook on the wall, and proceeded to wrap the Velcro strap around Angel's torso just below her chest.
Ms. Haffen began applying pressure, waiting another moment or so before letting the air out, "One-twenty over eighty. Blood pressure is normal."
The apple then reached for the stethoscope, and instructed Angel to breathe in and out slowly while placing the flat end against her chest and back. Angel did as she was told, but winced in pain with each breath.
"Just as I suspected. Your breathing is a bit haggard, but that's normal for someone with a shattered ribcage," Ms. Haffen explained after putting the stethoscope away, and grabbed her clipboard and pen, "Do you have any allergies, Angel?"
"No," the said albino simply replied.
"Are you currently on any medication?"
"No."
"Have you been feeling any inflammations in your throat?"
"No."
"Ok—I suggest taking some acetaminophen," Ms. Haffen confirmed after writing out a prescription and handing it to Alfred, "Make sure she takes two pills twice a day for about six weeks."
"She'll be fine," Alfred reassured.
"Oh, and one more thing. How did you injure yourself?"
Angel exchanged a quick glance of surprise with Alfred, who merely looked at her knowingly and slightly boastfully.
"I fell out of a tree," she replied dryly.
"What were you doing in a tree?"
"Building a tree house."
Ms. Haffen couldn't help but chuckle, "Well, I suppose it's not my business as to what exactly happened, just that you feel better in the end. All I ask is that you're more careful next time."
"Trust me, there won't be a next time," Angel growled and exited the room in a huff. Alfred rolled his eyes and followed her hastily.
"That was very rude, you know. She was just doing her job," Alfred whispered to her in disappointment.
"Well then, the least she could've done was respect my privacy. Like she said, it's not her job to snoop," Angel retorted with a hiss and attempted to get ahead of Alfred, but stopped in her tracks when she saw something red dart into the women's restroom.
"What are you looking at?" Alfred questioned and followed her gaze, but there was nothing there.
"Uh, nothing—excuse me." With that, Angel retreated into the bathroom and found Red sitting on the sink. Luckily, the bathroom was empty, or else she would have had a terrible time trying to explain the alien creature to a random stranger.
"What're you doing here?" Angel whisper-shouted.
"Keepin' an eye on your truth factor, and it ain't lookin' too good," Red explained as two bumps suddenly protruded from the top of his head.
Angel coiled back, "What's going on with your head?"
"Those, my friend, are the sprouts of horns. Ya see, each time ya tell a lie, I grow—bigger, per say."
"So, what, you're a symbolic representation of a lie?"
"Ya hit the nail on the head. And as lies go, I can only help ya for so long. Do ya understand the severity of the situation you put yourself in?"
"I don't have time to argue with a red tennis ball right now, so shut up and get back in the bag." Angel was thankful that she snatched her bag back from Alfred before going into the bathroom, as she held it open for Red to jump in.
"Whatever you say, Boss," Red chuckled mockingly before jumping into the bag. Angel then headed out of the bathroom, and was instantly greeted by a deadpanned Alfred.
"You're not gonna make me explain what I was doing in there, too, are you?" Angel inquired sarcastically while heading for the exit. Alfred remained quiet and rolled his eyes while following her, promising himself to keep a closer eye on her once they got home.
This chapter was mostly filler, I know, but I felt it was kinda necessary...kinda.
Also, I've finally gotten a DeviantArt account! If you wanna check out my art, you can find the link to my gallery here on my FFN profile.
Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!