A/N: (Geez...HS must be killing me to be this late...)
Well... I thought about having fluff here, but I guess not. I'm just gonna warn that outside names mentioned should be kept track of...especially if I give a description. Of course, OCs aren't the funnest to accept, to I keeping it as simple as possible. Hopefully you get to laugh somewhere in here.
Oh...I've decided to put up music recommendations to put with the chappies...Lemme see (by the way, I don't own any of these.)...
In somewhat of an order: Resurgam Theme, Naomi's Theme, Conference A, Exasperation/Calm Down, Red Zone, (insert casual theme here), On The Town, RONI or Gabe's Theme. (This will not hint anything, it's just the music.)
Warnings: I don't know. Just be ready to accept anything... ^-^;
04_The_Enigma_
"Hey, anyone in here?" Maria, who was just released on her late afternoon break after the poorly-timed car crash, glanced through a dusty window before letting herself inside a worn-down mechanic shop. "I'm sorry if you're not open, but I need a really quick fix!" This was kinda uncomfortable to profess in public, but her only ride was at risk. 'Quick' wasn't the only thing she needed; 'cheap' was really the reason she depended on this old family-owned business.
As the woman towed her cherished motorcycle into the wrecked store, she heard two guys in the backroom chatting intensively. The hardy door must have blocked her shout from penetrating through, but allowed the interior noise to be heard from outside. Using the shadows in the room that the closed entrance blinds provided her, she curiously listened to the males natter as she inspected the place.
The scent of oil from the garage nearby contaminated the air slightly; what was more revolting was to see all the smears of tire marks on the cracked tiled floor with oil droplets between them. The red counter and register were unmonitored, so she may have come at the wrong hour.
"Incredible job. So how did you mess that one up?" The glass that gave away the conversing men had old-fashioned graffiti as did the one in the front of the shop, so the face wasn't seen by the paramedic, who was growing a bit fidgety from standing alone. She could make out that this guy, who was applauding, had brown hair with uneven bangs and a red cap plus a tarnished T-shirt on. Looked like a full-fledged American, if you implied he was dressed as a baseball fan. "As if she couldn't hate you more already. You should quit, you know, before you really blow it." His sarcastic and lax tone easily reminded her of a particular co-worker of hers.
The other was a thin, lankier African-American man with a snazzy leather jacket sticking out from his causal attire, which by the way wasn't tainted like the other dude's clothing. One of his dark hands was scratching his pitch-black hair that was styled in dreadlocks. "Just give me a way to talk past her...then the grumpy bookworm so I can get to his brother and have this taken care of..." He inclined miserably as he said, "I'm too young for arthritis, or whatever they call it."
"'Grumpy bookworm'? That's why he's your sworn enemy..." Dr. Torres concluded that this laid-back man must be the owner of retro shop, for he was playing with some hand tool. "Don't think he's gonna help you, even if you beg at him for hours." His chuckle was the one of a slacker, alright. She found herself browsing the items as she grew tired of their discussion.
"Uh-huh. Any bright ideas?"
"Go see some other doc about that knee..."
"Wha-?" This guy, probably a visitor, drooped like a withering plant with the recommendation. "I'm running on pennies, man. You know I won't be seeing no tomorrow if I go ask her for cash..." He threw his arms up in his despair. "I rather lynch myself than deal with her-she's just about the scariest woman I'll ever meet!" He used his hands to simulate the next phrase, "To be honest, if I ran into her in town I'd be heading for the hills...damn, does she knows how to beat the stuffing out of anyone..." His voice had a habit of exaggerating the words. "Maybe I said too much, but you got the idea..."
"You'd make a great politician."
"Shut up."
"Just saying." The mechanic went into a giggle then a terribly controlled burst of laughter. "But not bad for a short soap opera, man. You better hope that sociopath didn't hear that, or you'll have hell to pay." He flashed a wrench naughtily and then sighed, "Anyways, I'll take care of that bike of yours by tomorrow." His beryl-green eyes unintentionally spotted Maria past the glass, who was off guard during the her 'expedition' through the gear and accessories in the shop. "Crap, I got a customer..." Turning his cap to the side, he opened the door and notified as he switched the ceiling lights and fan on simultaneously, politely saying, "Ma'am? I'm closed..."
"Oh- but...uh..." The woman popped up, her jacket gradually slipping off her shoulders, and explained, "My engine's kinda screwed up. Can you take a look? I'm in a hurry." She went back to her motorbike with an inquisitive glance to the repairman, knowing she can't get 'no' for an answer.
Before the man had a chance to reply, his company mumbled something to him as his defining yellow eyes stared at the EMT's uniform. When she was about to question the problem, the African-American's attention was caught by the vehicle at the doorway. "Woah...lady, you got one heck of a sweet ride there. I wouldn't give that to Ethan if I were you... those one-of-a-kind models ain't his specialty." His grin highly contrasted the bothered look of the other.
"Uh...thanks. But I need it fixed...right now." The female rider took the mandarin-colored goggles from her forehead down to her neck. She got herself refocused on the real tinkerer, who grumbled 'shut up' to his friend at the same time."So?"
"Ignore my buddy's advice...he's just jealous. Anything on wheels I can fix, just not as good as my dad. He's actually the owner of the place. I'm just here closing up shop." Ethan professionally rectified as he shouldered his other client. "If it's just the engine, I can definitely get that done. Though I might have to charge you a bit extra for making me work overtime, sound fine with you?" His answer was a rapid 'yeah.' "Then if you'll 'scuse me..." The mechanic steered the treasured bike to the garage close by. "Later Jet. And get over the bike." He cut the electric on the lights with a flip of a switch, literally leaving the others in the dark.
"I was only complimenting her! Who said I was..." The man, perturbed from being accused of enviousness, gestured to the lady in the room, but then gave in. He saw a miffed expression from her and added, "I meant that it was rare and you're lucky to...nevermind. Listen, Ethan's a genius at this stuff, I was just pulling his leg." For a sensitive guy, he seemed like to know the etiquette of accepting failure.
"Huh." Dr. Torres pursed her lips as she thought of something to say. "Hey...um..." And whether to say it or not. "I heard about that knee." The other blanked out at that. She spoke, "I know a doc at Resurgam First Care who can check it out if you want." Here she was, using up her priceless time to furbish up the beloved motorcycle- and at the same moment promoting her workplace. "Checkup's not free, but it's worth a visit." Trying to harbor a positive outlook on the place for the stingy man, a funny smile came from her.
The last part undoubtedly brought a confusion of hope yet consternation on the one named Jet. "Uh...yeah, I'll think about it." It occurred to the woman that he might have something against what she mentioned, so she kept quiet as he floundered out of the store, wording 'okay then' to herself.
"Hey, you still back there? I think I found your problem." The centered call of the clerk and a winding sound of a metal part coming loose broke the paramedic's concentration on the last costumer. She hollered back 'coming' and wandered into the garage.
On a light stroll to her office at C.I.F.M. after leaving her daughter with a close neighbor, Dr. Kimishima had an strange notion that something...was not in balance. The employees of the other departments were all over the lobby, debating so vigorously that it looked like gossip between friends. People who came in, just like her, were instantly assimilated into it by their co-workers.
And the one to have the honors was Little Guy. "Dr. Kimishima!" His blue tie was adjusted terribly today, no longer matching the quality of the navy suit he wore. The blonde man caught up to the medical examiner, bringing her up to speed, "There was a enormous accident in a police chase this morning- but there's no data being given away...so...we here we are." As Naomi glanced past the agent, she heard him report grimly, "This commotion had been going on for hours." It wasn't clear whether he was concerned about the noise or the unsolved mystery.
"Was anyone injured in the event? Any victims?" The lady interrogated, later realizing she was about to join trend like the others, who were hotly disputing for answers with no sign of declining. "Nevermind what I said. Can you tell me why this is so important?" She felt that she was in some newspaper headquarters, with paper flying and constant phone ringing- except none of that part of the mania. Only the collage of people and talking was in this building, loud as it was.
Special Agent Navel was, as expected from his boss, unable to answer off the bat. "All I can say is...the locals were in pursuit of something out of their league. The mess is a train-wreck." Though what he said sounded easy to grasp, the concept was, by all odds, tough to put a finger on. "I've never seen such a chase go this wrong." The man said as he handed the doctor a black and white photo of this 'mess.' "The cameras picked up nothing but this."
Just as the forensic expert was about to deny the existence of such ruination the picture had captured, she picked up a deeper voice from behind her. "Are you two entering this discussion as well?" The head of the woman silently turned to glimpse at Chief Wayne with one eye; her circular earrings tingled at the petite movement. "I thought I'd see you down here, Naomi."
"What do you know about this?" Not missing a beat, she went directly for the facts.
The giant repositioned his glasses and had an indifferent tone as he spoke, "This is a case best kept for the Federals." Watching the pair in front of him realize the fragility of the subject, he passively changed it by saying, "I'd like to congratulate you on the last case. You solved much faster than many of us thought." His troubled countenance didn't melt away as it should've.
The lady took her eyes off of the man to return the photo, not fascinated enough to keep it as a souvenir. "I'm ready to take on another case. Where do you-" She didn't have the chance to designate a conference location as she turned to see David shaking his head deliberately. "I'm not talking about the one behind the commotion." That drive for cracking serial homicides long left her.
"You need a break, Naomi. Corpses aren't...created by demand." The truth he spoke didn't affect the medical examiner negatively; her agent's reaction was staring down at the image he held, stirred by the reference to the woman's title. "When something comes up, I'll tell you." The Chief excused himself before gaining too much attention, and ridding the chances of revealing more than he already has.
The ponytail of the relieved medical examiner flown to the side a tad as she made her way past the agent. "I'm going to my office to sort out a few things." Her umber boots were silently stepping onto the glossy tiles, gradually going farther from the man.
"Dr. Kimishima, but this case-" Navel's words couldn't slow her.
"You may want to fix that tie before going anywhere, Little Guy." Her reminder determined the definite winner of the argument he was putting up. As she moved on, the crowd shifted behind her in their quarrel, and she was gone from his view.
The secret agent remained as he was, but took another glance down at the acquired photo of the 'crime scene.' "(The Federals...)" He twirled around to keep away from joining the topic, almost forgetting his boss' friendly comment about his tie. "(I can't believe she...)" He jerked on it and checked that the pathetic fold wasn't exposed to the others. Holding up a infallible esteem, he proceeded onward, hoping that the mistake would never come about again.
"Doctor...I'm glad you came." Emma Wilson, one of the many female nurses in the hospital with a pink uniform, heartened with a few papers clumsily held in her arms. Her matching brown hair and eyes with glasses seemed to glimmer under the brilliant lights of the OR. She backed to her side, allowing the specialist inside. "Today it's-" She was about to sum up the procedure until she saw a teenager with close traits as the surgeon inside as well. "Uh...Doctor, why is he here?" She never imagined a controversy over the regulations, most of it was logic. "He can't come-"
"It's only for this operation. It won't make any difference if we're the ones at the table." CR-SO1 answered roundly. He saw the kid in the corner of the room as implied, looking away stubbornly with a tiny sense of ill will. "The procedure should take less than half of hour." The reply was the shoving of hands into the pockets of a sweater.
The walls of the OR were colored green to reduce stress on the staff. But of course, the outsider wasn't at all influenced by the decor and clean machinery. The man now in charge of this person received a pair of gloves from the nurse as he turned to the anesthetized patient and said, "Nevermind him. Continue." As Emma went on with the explanation of the steps, he glimpsed over at the foreigner of the room, who was not at all disgusted by the surgery. In fact, what angered him was something— no, someone else.
That diagnostician.
The prisoner remembered the tint on the orphan's face growing redder when he finished that sentence. The confronted kid stampeded away with no answer, brushing off of the other doctor's side in the fury. Dr. Cunningham indicated what grounds he deducted from by saying, "Nice work. Turns out that the kid is female after all." Erhard stopped before storming off too far, realizing the significance of what he had just said: They were played.
"That was..." The surgeon's own reaction didn't meet the same level of anger as the individual seething with rage down the hall. "A test?" What he said only made her...rile up even more. Fists were starting to show up as the girl faced them as if she was about to strike.
"Hate to say that I threw you under the bus with that one. I saw her blush before- that was just a wild guess." The essence of success left Gabriel as his expression grew grim, "Don't get excited, kid. It's probably best to tell-" He paused when he heard loud footfalls streaming from behind him and then put to an abrupt end. The general, solemn look of the fellow doctor didn't prove anything- so spinning around was his natural option. "What the-?"
The word 'flight' may have been too vague to describe it. 'Battery' seemed appropriate, but it, too, lacked the right emphasis. What just occurred was vengeance...
More specifically, a hit-and-miss of a flying kick.
The diagnostician, who intended to keep the mute's gender a secret, nearly kissed the floor in his efforts to duck from the 'missile' launched in the air. His knees didn't recuperate as expected from the workout, so he groaned as he stood up, "Pretty little lady here has..." His word choice was interfered with as he mumbled, "One ugly temper." The teen, who barely landed on both feet, involuntarily heard the 'informant' defend, "I was trying to help, y'know!"
'Deserved it' could be read on the attacker's face when she crossed her arms, still piping in revenge. The threat spread to the second doctor, who had thrown himself to the yellow wall at the face of danger. He went back to his normal position, but couldn't completely go back to how he was before composure-wise. That ambush wasn't needed to remind him of time Maria lashed out about the Cumberland Incident. He wasn't saying that he was grateful- that hit could've been his to take.
The green hair of the real target was distorted and his legs aching. Because it was a misunderstanding, he said, "I'll let that one slide, but try to at least consider that you're in a hospital. And...have fun with the kid." He left as he always would, his right hand waving back and feet taking smooth strides as he went away.
The same memory brought a rewarding smile to the sedentary adolescent, who peered beyond the thick glass outside of the OR purposelessly. Seconds after this sweet aftertaste, a warning siren wailed in the room beckoned her to acknowledge the ongoing operation. Apart from the veterans of the room, her hearing perception was the strongest, bringing substantial strain. She noticed the number 20 flashing on the corner of a screen with jagged lines racing across it.
"Doctor, there were only supposed to be a few lung tumors! How did the scans not pick up these?" Nurse Wilson gasped with her fingertips beginning to shudder while balancing a tray. The witness to the procedure was struck by her panic, but as conveyed earlier by the specialist, she had no control over anything- a vacillating faith was all that lingered on her as she took note of the his actions.
CR-SO1 took up the ultrasound and growled, "There's no time for that..!" He memorized the spots of two tumors and switched to the scalpel instantly. "There's no change in procedure, we can still operate." After multiple incisions, he removed the blood pools to clear the way for extraction. He obtained the forceps and commanded while Emma shakily held up a tray, "Vitals are low, bring some stabilizer-" Through he hadn't yet verified the number, the monotonous cries of the monitor were not without meaning.
The search order was left with the other nurse in the room, whose pink clothes became a blur as she chaotically hunted through the cabinets and shelves after noting the syringes she had at the ready were already used up. The hinges of the doors were put to work as hands would slam the storage open and shut repeatedly. "We're out!"
"That's not possible!" The assistant objected as she jumped from her post into the scuffle for the syringes, consequently placing the lead surgeon in a disadvantage against the clock- or in this case, the cascading vitals. He, however, wasn't one to let a simple insufficiency overtake him in the uphill clash with death.
Emma foraged a single syringe of lime-colored fluid that lifted the number from 16 to a measly 22. She instructed the intern, "That's the last one in this room- go next-door and get some more! Hurry!" Despite the low stock, she returned with patches of synthetic membrane, better than empty-handed. Right as she stepped back to her position, her fear heightened at the single digit 9 on the vitals. "Doctor..!"
The shout was worthless. At this rate, backup would have to be called in. "I...can't..." His gloved hands, which were spotted with crimson, knew what would be happen to them if they were to put down the bleeding scalpel: Cuffs.
Even so, the vitals pulsated, giving the countdown for the three in the OR, most frozen in place. Standing with a stony and pained composure that couldn't hide her anxiety much longer, Erhard watched the performance drop into shambles, her canines evident from gritting her teeth under the intensity. It was no doubt this failure would somehow be seen as her doing. Yes, the blame for the disappearance of those needles would be put on her, just like how she was accused of...
Hold on. Needles?
The extinguished flames in the eyes of the observer were set ablaze again as her left hand patted the lower pocket of her pants. That spirited woman that guided her through the car accident...she had given her a couple of those syringes. And as her left hand had ascertained, she didn't forget them when she had a change of clothes. The velcro flap on the lower pocket of her slacks was ripped open in a hurry, but then her hand was weighted with doubt.
Wasn't this the worst time to interfere? She was 'on the last straw;' if what she had wasn't what he needed, then...
...
'Then so be it.'
Since he hadn't made any incisions, the vitals only fell two increments. "(There's still five tumors left to be extracted...)" Anything he could do would be ineffective; he had no options to choose from other than let time fly. "Dammit..." Rarely would he let himself be distracted, but as the situation could not be helped, he turned his eyes away and panned the room for two things: The nurse who was petrified with her mouth covered in fright of the plummeting vitals, and the-
The girl holding up four thick syringes on his left. Her eyes had a glare from the lights, but even so, it only amplified her enduring gaze to seem like...trust.
"W-where did he get those from?" Emma stuttered out as she saw the surgeon swiped the stabilizer from the child's hands and put into hers. The needles weren't the kind that were supplied in ORs- as they were larger than usual. "These..." They were of the correct substance, though. "I'll administer them right away!" The vitals skyrocketed farther than she thought possible: from 4 it climbed to 62. "It's a miracle..."
The donor of the stabilizer strayed back to her original spot in the corner, trying to find some pride while the specialist separated the last tumors from the infected lungs, often noting details like 'extraction complete, moving on to the next one' and the one quote she had longed to hear, "Taping up opening incision and... we're finished. Let this disease pass from this world..." 'Finished' was really all she wanted to hear from the mouthful.
Vital count at completion: 51.
The assisting nurse clapped as the man pulled off his gloves, who looked away as he heard her say, "That was...an extraordinary operation, doctor-"
"I found some stabilizer!" The second nurse charged into the room with a bin of promised needles after the groundbreaking shout. "Oops..." It didn't take long to realize the grand entrance was in vain. Nurse Wilson tittered before breaking away from the effort of giving unheeded praise to discuss post-operation procedures with the other. The prisoner, having them handle the sanitation and transportation, walked to his imitator who he had yet to personally take on.
"I...uh..." Coming across the right words was difficult to do. "Thank you for what you did during the procedure." The mute responded by glancing back with a carefree smile and shrug that he interpreted as 'no problem.' The frivolity then transitioned into queasiness as he said, "And lunch...it's late." For some peculiar reason he felt like he had wound up talking to this kid like some ten-year old. "Sorry." It was probably just because she wasn't able to talk. Just that disability: her silence.
Or so he judged of his copycat.
Although it was very uncommon for a prisoner to have responsibility over someone else, he didn't know how to utilize it and, actually, had already lost that authority. "H-hey...do you even know where you're..." There wasn't any way to convince this animal that he was supposed to be leading- she just fastened onto his wrist and began a prowl around the building, going with any sign that read 'cafeteria' and had a white fork or spoon symbol.
"Nrgh..." Publicly resisting didn't look...good. As a doctor, aggressive physical contact was against the oath; which meant jerking away from her would be frowned upon in this establishment. "I...do know the way there..! Are you even listening?" Bossy and roundabout her ways may have been, they sooner or later brought them to their destination. He was fortunate that she hadn't encountered any of the staff on the journey, for that would've been...an undignified impression.
After a round of indecisiveness between the sandwich, pizza, breakfast, and other food sections of the cafe, his absolute conclusion about the starving teen had come to this:
She had nothing akin to him except the physical attributes. For example, he chose an average turkey sandwich and bottled water in 4 minutes while she, skinny as she was, voted for a double cheeseburger overloaded with meat perfect for carnivores, a can of Pepsi, and, to top it off, a massive cookie with chunks of chocolate...after a half an hour in nosing around (notably two-thirds of the time at the showcase of gourmet fast-food for those of a less nutritional diet). Also, he learned that 'tabs' didn't exist from the cashier. He was tricked into paying almost twenty dollars, what he would earn in a single operation.
Rambunctious. Impulsive. Even spontaneous. At first he assumed the wild character was from the huge accomplishment in the OR, but there was a very likely probability that the assumption was invalid.
…
That's it. He could admit she had some self-control...but clearly not enough to ensure that he would not be humiliated in the open place. "You should take your time. We're not in a hurry." Yet he didn't know why he still tried to explain.
After their mini-adventure romping about the cafeteria, they found themselves at one of those plain, square, blue-counter tables...sitting across from each other in plastic white chairs and consuming their meals at completely different speeds. CR-SO1 was unable to indulge on what he had because someone with incredible hunger pangs and abnormal cravings was chomping away at her unhealthy lunch in inconsistent portions. She was chugging the soda between each mouthful; it was no longer easy to perceive she was mute.
Taken of his appetite, the surgeon fell back on the seat and let the seconds tick away as tag-along carried on. 'Erhard' soon recognized his resignation from the food and came to a screeching halt with her...rampage. Blinking at the half-slice of the market-fresh sandwich and a full cyan water bottle, she exchanged a befuddled look with the divided one of the man. Ambivalent of what the issue was, she undid the wrappings of her dessert after the main course, but then wavered instead of diving in.
Heck, she nearly blacked out in that OR with a pounding heart and stomach devoid of calories. It wasn't special for someone to have a binge after that and after participating in, as you can see from the TV hanging from the column over there, today's breaking story. But the guy in front of her seemed to be in need of the sugar more than herself with that depressed face. Wait, was that from when she knocked him over during that...
Oh.
Was he still upset to hear he got knocked over by a girl? Ha, sucker...
Er- Though something should be done, just staring at this daydreamer gave her a headache.
So, to get even, she split the sweet and held the bigger share to him. That should smooth things out, right? She had to wiggle the thing several times to get his reaction...
The doctor, who did catch the transformation of emotions on the orphan's face beforehand, was, in reality, drifting off in his thoughts meanwhile and therefore wasn't prepared for the offer when displayed to him. "Uh...I'm alright...No thanks." The kid had an 'are you sure' expression before taking back the half of delectable goodness and finishing it off- in a more civilized manner.
As she did...He was conflicted.
Exactly how does an orphan of such...eccentric character wind up with his identity?
To be more accurate...a (almost harmless) mute girl of seventeen? He got the picture about how the gender could have been misguided, but who could slip up the age? Her petite figure had no way of accounting for that; unless the information was only partial. Concisely, there were too many chances of error...
And...something was pulling at his sleeve.
Snapping out should've been a breeze when what you were looking at moved. "What?" His meaning sounded more like 'what's going on' opposed to 'what are you doing.' The surgeon translated a kid that was pointing to the opposite exit of the cafeteria was a kid that wanted to go to... "That's..."
ATLUS Mall. He heard all about the extension in detail by the end of yesterday. Purportedly, a wing containing a hub of department and retail stores was adjacent to here. From where they were, that shopping center felt like some paradise out of reach with the magnificent array of colors. "I don't think...we can go there." The girl may not have seen it, but the tracker bracelet was already signaling quite frequently as they chose a location not too far from the border of the hospital. If he could correct that sentence, he would have said 'I' instead of 'we.' But he refused to explain why.
The orphan pressed back her letdown by looking at the lively mall again; that place wasn't somewhere she could go to while staying at the asylum. She had friends there, but play was hard to do- her face didn't do a better job at being optimistic. The man, who didn't want to be caught up in the identity theft any longer, quietly rolled his cuff of his sleeve over the device and said, "I'm heading back. You should return to your room, too." It was worthless to tell her that he was a convict of a heinous bio-attack- and that she had just helped take off two years from his prison sentence. Besides, she was sort of...haughty about her role in the operation's success.
He held onto the bottle but disposed of the sandwich; he'd just have to eat more at dinner to make up for that. "Come on." The specialist glanced in the direction of where the other pair of scarlet eyes faced and said, "You...should ask someone else to take you there." A tinge of regret came at him for that second when the teen spun around to head back to the hospital halls. She walked ahead of him and through the food section where she once had the time of her life at, then was gone in Resurgam's corridors without as much as a 'goodbye.'
CR-SO1 ultimately realized the flaw in his suggestion just when he was about to set off.
"That room is on the other side of the building..." He wasn't sure if this was pure luck or his crappy destiny that put him in the spotlight for taking care of both the troublemakers from that protest in the lobby. Maybe both. "Gary Forester...huh."
It was just Esha giving him a hard time. He could drop by her office on his long way there and begin venting about work hours- of course he knew what would happen if he decided to. But the thought didn't really matter, since she was occupied with another guest, "I don't remember saying that we were accepting applicants lately. A diagnostician was re-hired plus a specialist began working here not long ago, so I don't think there's space for another doctor...Sorry." And the thoughtful Chief was mentioning him. How sweet.
Gabriel stopped in the middle of the path to hear the job-discussion coming from the manager's office. He obviously couldn't poke his head in there, but he was feeling blase enough to spend time eavesdropping. Might as well take a break from his travels- it's not that the boy was informed that he was coming for a check-up anyways. Now he wished he had a cigarette in his mouth.
"I see." Some woman with a calm, crafty tone sighed from inside the room. Most likely to be the high-expectant, unemployed physician. "I'm sorry about wasting your time then...Esha Patel, is it?" A patting sound came next; he expected that to be the lady getting up and dusting herself off or something. So far she seemed kinda fancy with all the manners. "If you do ever need a surgeon, I'm open to that as well."
"Oh. You can operate? I pretty sure some of the other hospitals around town would be looking for a surgeon..." Dr. Cunningham imagined the rustling of papers to be from the boss. "Well, I would be glad to tell them about you." The sound of sorting files diminished as she asked, "Excuse me, but you aren't desperate for a job, are you? The economy's not doing so well for most doctors these days, so..."
"Not at all, I was...um...just thinking about...helping others again."
"Is that so? Because I was thinking that I could..." The words 'lay off' shot through the man's head but was shrugged off after a second's reasoning. Esha wouldn't be that cruel. "My sister could use a pediatrician for her orphanage downtown..." She wasn't talking about that loud, self-generated older sibling, now was she? "I'm going to need to consult to-"
"It's alright. I...don't do well with children." Another sigh from that woman. The diagnostician mouthed 'welcome to the boat' as he prepared to carry on with his 'voluntary appointment'. He refrained from scatting off when he noted this statement from the visitor, "To be honest, I don't why I left Caduceus so soon back then. Now I'm a little old for second chances..."
"Woah, woah... Caduceus USA?" She mimicked his reactions exactly. "Can I... Can I look at your resume?" Several more documents went flying in that room after the Chief's stammer was responded with 'sure'. "Holy cow- How can you not be employed? I don't know what hospital wouldn't hire a grad from..." She cut off her rambling and uttered, "Ex-except us. S-sorry about that...Ms. Williams."
"I prefer to be called 'Sharon,' Ms. Patel. The surname doesn't...um..." A apprehensive voice was detected by the doctor's hesitation. "It doesn't bring back many good memories."
"Then you call me Esha. That'll make us even." The director asserted as the chorus of papers and someone getting up repeated. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sharon. I'll be sure to report to the other hospitals about you." Gabriel could vision the two women shaking hands. "Also...you haven't operated in a while, right? Are you sure you want to enter an OR again?"
"It's been about a decade, already... and I've been working in a pharmacy since. I'm quite tired of it, so yes."
"Haha- you won't be any longer, I'll guarantee you that. I can't believe you were hiding that resume for ten years just to work in a drugstore..." A prideful laugh from the Chief has forever been hard to share- that was true for the 'Master of Deduction.' "Why did you-"
"I'd better move on...Thank you for the meeting, Esha." Sharon made tapping noises as she neared the doorway, where Dr. Cunningham went farther from.
"Oh...h-hey!" The manager wasn't ready for the abrupt leave. "Your-"
"You can give it to them when you talk!" A blonde lady of medium height said before entering the gold halls and exploiting the tall man's presence. "Oh. I didn't expect to meet the staff here so soon. I'm not even..." Gabriel kept pacing along despite the comment regarding him; his excuse: just not in the mood to socialize. "That's a warm welcome..." Murmured the outsider when she went down the other way.
Not much of a cliff, unfortunately... (I'd still would love it if you'd leave a review! Especially about the music things above...)
I kinda got lazy at the end, sorry. Anyways...next chapter is kind short (I think) and may recap what we know of Trauma Team...I'm going to have to tweak out that stuff on my own.
Alicia: Good lord. You're late. Now what?
Hey, did you ever consider what the new OCs are based from?
Alicia:...I can't reveal things yet.
Oh yeah. Oops. I'll just say that um...one is very much like you.
Alicia: I definitely got that part. But I think it's safe for the readers to know you're actually going to have dynamic characters, right?
Yep. Can't screw around that. I'm jamming everything in here, fastforwards, death, hectic stuff, really.
Alicia: I'm going to enjoy criticizing this...
...*falls over* This isn't for you! Let the readers-
Alicia: Obviously, you can't prove that with no reviews...
Okay, someone shove it in her face that you're reading this. Please. I think I might lose it... *dumps self into bed* Oh crap, I gotta study...*gets back up and groans*
Alicia: I doubt we'll have any updates soon.