I haven't written anything in a while so my skills may be a tad rusty, I'm trying to break myself back into the habit with small oneshots. Apologies if it's OOC!
Breathing still ragged from the outburst he'd just displayed, Murdock leant against the hastily shut door, the urgent slam still reverberating around the room, the turn of the lock louder than normal as Richter comforted the visibly shaken nurse, assuring her that it wasn't anything she'd done. Murdock was a complex patient, one that although usually easy-going, had these "moments".
How was she to know, so newly graduated, the way to deal with a man who had been diagnosed with more personalities than a travelling circus?
Breathing slowed to normal pace as Richter continued. Murdock listened to his explanation as intently as he knew the nurse was. Captain, Mr, it didn't matter, the title meant nothing to Murdock if he'd decided to do away with Murdock altogether, like today, as she'd discovered by simply asking Mr Murdock if he would care for breakfast, that he was in fact Lord Byron and any other form of address was an insult worthy of the fit he'd just pitched.
Her panic at being assaulted with rabid and snarling poetry and half a dozen books masquerading as make shift missiles was subsiding as Richter's words soothed. Murdock peeked through the square of mesh-wire, could see Richter's hand laid gently on her shoulder, offering solace of coffee and cake in the Doctors lounge.
Murdock wondered if they baked a cake daily in preparation for a patient's outburst or if they had a ready-made supply. Maybe they hired someone especially.
He turned as they departed through the corridor, a smile tugging at his lips, eyes closed. Maybe he'd been a bit overzealous as Byron earlier, Mr Murdock be damned.
The note from Face still lay heavy in his pocket, a time and date encoded on it. Another mission shaping up outside the VA, waiting for his expertise.
He was still Captain where it counted.
End.
