A/N: Don't ask. HS was angry and Rping was too addictive. .
This chappy is more of a 'info' one...You'll see. *nothing else to say, Alicia won't be waiting at the bottom, she quit awhile ago. O.o"
08_The_Tribulation
Everything about the findings was surreal. Her cellphone rang with no message, nothing matched, and the clues all seemed to have gone with the wind. As of this moment, scouting for more information became futile- they had little access to the old crime scenes. The reserves they came to so far all had polished floors and updated security...the usual protocol after the officials had given up.
Even Little Guy ran out of statistics to add when Naomi looked back at her hand of evidence cards, each appearing wild on its own when put with another: Snippets of scratchy video footage, worthless witness accounts, and of course, a plethora of photos of stolen material along with documents of their unlawful owners.
Despite the exciting discovery of a long-forgotten skeleton on their first morning on this case, their progress remained at a snail's pace. The dental records had no results, and the identification just...didn't happen. All there was to know was that a middle-aged, Caucasian woman with no info in the FBI archives had SOME connection to the thief.
So the higher-ups claim. All just to officially brand this as a murder case.
Dr. Kimishima dreaded admitting this was a cold trail from the very start- she, the one who objected to joining the manhunt, found every aspect of this unbelievable. First and foremost, she struggles with the case's privacy requirements; Alyssa (currently at Resurgam with Tomoe Tachibana) won't stand being out of it much longer. Then the lack of substantial data was taking its toll on the medical examiner...there were only bits and pieces to solve with. The deck of cards was basically a lost cause.
"Doctor, did you find anything?" The voice of her agent muttered out as the displeased forensic expert sunk back into her office chair after a third autopsy on the bag of bones from today.
"It was a waste of time." The books and pottery lined up on the designer shelf within woman's workplace didn't mirror the out-of-control stress building up inside her. The triple-checking only reconfirmed the presence of a bullet that ended the victim's life. "I still can't understand why this is related to the case..." If only the corpse wasn't from years ago.
Navel's sigh came through the speakers clearly. "I went through all the archives available...no surprises. It's known that the guy we're after can clean up after himself. The ID was probably important enough to delete." The thought that the FBI database was tampered with still shocked him. "If this Raven can break down the best firewalls...we don't stand much of a chance."
Naomi grew unresponsive, soaking in all the hopelessness the assistant was churning out from their one-day experience. Her eyelids were shut as she picked up his words, "He'll most likely tap into our conversations and evidence, so finding his location and identity will be almost impossible. Plus we could become his next..." He came to a halt as the listener never commented. "Dr. Kimishima?"
"I was listening." The ponytail of the woman was flung to a side as she tilted forward. "And Little Guy, let me remind you that we signed up with those conditions." She found the barrage of statements aggravating, but brutally true. But something else from what he poured out gave her a reason to lead the discussion, "One more thing...what's the chance that our culprit is a gunman, perfectionist, hacker, and strategist all in one?"
There was no answer from the other line.
"So, there's still the possibility that Raven is a group." At least being able to sort one thing straight gave the medical examiner some motivation to proceed with the case.
"But doctor...multiple accomplices tends to leave more evidence behind..." The agent bumbled out in return. Then he referenced back to the sections of video they managed to recover, "And the cameras..."
The earrings began rocking again as the woman murmured, "I hope you didn't just assume there's one person behind it all from that." She chided, disappointed that Navel would fall for that same notion the federals had. She replayed the black-and-white footage: there the gunner was, making a neck-breaking escape on foot with a dark, frayed cloak covering his back while taking down security cameras consecutively with flawless accuracy.
The movie ends when a bullet hits the screen.
Maria wasn't sure how to grill the orphan with her questions. Not because he was mute, but because of his...good mood.
After running out on her and sending his friend off to the OR, she couldn't say she was happy to see the smiles. Mix her irritation with a lecturing session for more recruitments to the team, and the aftermath would not look pretty. On the contrary, if she recalled how he was cranky before, she could assume that he had found some happiness while being grounded at a hospital.
The promised interrogation was about take place on their way to the old ward...
"Dr. Torres!" Darnell Sellers apparently had an affinity for calling out at the worst moments. "The new recruits already arrived!" He stood at the entrance, waving as if he was signaling SOS. With no other choice, the captain shut her mouth and sprinted inside.
The apprentice, disinclined to trot along due to the scare from the last visit, sat tight behind the same brick column. Waiting out in a dusty corner was tons better than trying to blend in to the teenager. However, listening to the same welcoming spiels twice proved to make sitting still painstaking. In five minutes, another escape plan was being drawn.
There was no sticking around for each introduction...especially for that one.
To the gathering at the front of the ward, a typhoon seemed to have rolled by. The explosion of sounds brought an uproar among the newbies, and a skeptical silence from the lieutenants. "Not again..." The female manager in the crowd growled as she chose to run after the uncontrolled kid. "Out of the way!" She forcibly went through the lines of brand-new jackets.
A few yelled the woman's name in attempt to end her rampage, but the man who was next to make an intro physically grabbed her arm. "Doctor!" It was the stone-faced Kevin, the co-worker who made a cold remark on this same situation the other day. "This isn't a time to just leave." Knowing the tigress wasn't going to continue the meeting smoothly as anticipated, he spoke calmly to the veteran paramedics behind him, "Can you handle this?"
Nurse Sellers accepted the responsibility and with the same ringing voice, he requested, "Can all the newcomers follow me-!" He led a tour of the remainder of the aged building after stepping down from an elevated platform. The room cleared out with his help; the discouraged captain and the subordinate that saved her from losing it were all that was left.
"So you talked to him." The dissatisfied associate grumbled as he tightened the clip on his right ear. He scoffed dryly, "Good...That showed no improvement." Though he was the runner-up to welcome the additions to the crew, the showstopper failed to bring frustration in him. Right now he simply took advantage of the boss' speechlessness. "He doesn't belong here."
"Quit it already." Dr. Torres fumed while she uncrossed her arms in disagreement. Her head shifted to the exit, unable to let off steam with the man glaring at her. "He's just a kid, don't you get fed up with teasing him?" She twirled back to the spiteful man, dismissing herself with, "Grow up..."
Understanding what made the orphan go in a flurry was becoming a mystery she could no longer tackle on her own. Well, she had tomorrow to get this straightened out somehow.
The black hair of the paramedic that had been cut off from further contact swayed when he too glimpsed back at the ward's giant doors. "'Just a kid'..."
Sure...it was another sunny day in his career. But he chose to drop the pleasantries, "Okay, explain to me why you only wrote down your first name on the handout..."
The cigarette was sent to the other side of his mouth when Gabriel grunted. After disposing it, he leaned away from the back of his office chair to watch his first patient of the morning settle down precariously. The guy's clean appearance didn't forewarn the diagnostician of any problems during examination: The brown hair was neatly put into numerous dreadlocks, and the apparel was pretty snazzy if you asked him.
But the empty lines across RONI's screen was plain weird, hands-down. "Err...Jedediah?" Even the one thing filled in was difficult to make out- four syllables was a mouthful, but at least he wouldn't need to say it too often.
The African-American hesitated when met with the suspecting amber eyes of the doctor. "Sorry, but I was in a hurry...I was new, too." He shrugged and added on, "A lady around here said that you were the doc I could visit about these knees, so yeah." He jabbered on for a minute or two about his encounters with the staff member: all out of sequence. And just as Dr. Cunningham was about to stop the excess rambling, the man tacked on another note, "I guess the name I jotted down was kinda long...most people call me Jet."
Gabriel wondered if his olive hair had went gray when the guy finished his narrative. "That's...interesting." The talkativeness led the doctor to turn to the terminal beside him. He whispered over to the monitor while his patient began sulking, "RONI, is being paranoid a...symptom?" He picked up the fact that the guy's knees ached, but the frantic prattling sorta reminded him of schizophrenia.
"Doctor, the patient may only be nervous." His assistant complied, the screen already creating a list of common ailments. The machine's overly-tame feminine voice also reported an observation, "Perhaps a better form of greeting would help." It then finally decided to directly address the curiosity of the diagnostician, clarifying, "Paranoia can be classed as a symptom for behavioral disorders."
Before opening the examination with the usual questions, the 'Master of Deduction' reassured himself that Maria (by context clues in what Jet leaked out) wouldn't mistake him for specializing in mental disorders...for that would be very insulting. "Alrighty, so when did you start having joint problems? Was it a week ago, a few days...?"
"Uh...a couple months." The man's eyebrows mimicked the ones of in front of him as he bumbled out, "That's not important, is it?"
Although Dr. Cunningham wished to voice his opinion of geez-why-the-heck-did-you-wait, he cleared his throat and politely informed, "Since you didn't do the paperwork, I'm going to have to ask you a bit more than normal. So...your age?" This clueless fellow appeared younger than himself, but he must get the profile right.
"Twenty-" The second digit of the number never made it out.
"How about your job?" Gabriel rushed on, realizing that half of the stuff RONI was about to come up with will not make sense: Arthritis, osteoporosis...out of the equation. Unless the clothes were just for show and the patient was an athlete.
Jet nearly jumped out of the seat at the quick execution of questions. Revealing his age was a sticky issue for him with this being a first legit doctor's visit, but his occupation he didn't mind bragging about: "I'm a musician. Actually, a singer...too. I perform in a diner next to-"
"Woah there, I don't need a job description." The diagnostician, jaded by the overkill in detail, interrupted. This visitor couldn't even handle that without elaborating...and the gut feeling of paranoia seemed a reality for the doctor. So he confronted it, "I don't want to be rude, but are you the kind to- uh, enjoy chatting?" At this point he thought himself not necessarily as 'rude,' but awfully 'strange.'
The response was as slow as a confession, "Oh, you could tell...Sorry." The golden color of the man's eyes darkened as he admitted, "I don't trust doctors, and hospitals, as much as I used to, you know what I mean?"
Not really.
What was just spoken became a huge blow to the pride of the one who survived medical college. But demanding respect from a person who obviously had a rough history with medicine wasn't of importance to Gabriel, who retorted indifferently, "Well, what I'm trying to get across is that you should be honest about these types of things from the start..." He almost got the machine to record something totally inaccurate because of the misinterpretation.
Once realizing the fault behind his act, Jet took things down a notch and said, "The knees only hurt like crazy when I have to run somewhere." He leaped ahead on the 'Master of Deduction's' train of thought and included something else useful, "And I...exercise weekly."
Now that this was serious business, Dr. Cunningham had a hand to his chin while thinking. "(Regular activity wouldn't cause joint issues, not in somebody that age...) You didn't happen to sprain it and continued jogging, right?" This adult wasn't the stubborn type...in fact, he seemed a bit resistant to hard work, judging by the blank chart he turned in before the appointment.
"It probably happened...twice, I think?" The voice went shaky again with the uncertain estimate.
"You 'think?'" Protocol was to hunt down symptoms, not try to guess out the truth value of every statement. If they go on at this pace, RONI won't get too far in compiling a checklist. "Is there swelling, or any odd colors?" Concrete signs were what his 'buddy' was waiting for.
"No, I would've come here sooner then." The man replied humbly, acknowledging how pointless his case was. "Maybe this isn't anything after all..." His hopes of getting a fast cure sank while the doctor ran out of effective inquiries.
As the diagnostician pushed back the chair to the desk, he sighed listlessly. He could order a scan, but the man would most likely refuse. The pain didn't seem to effect him greatly, so he ended with, "If this keeps up, come back and I'll take another look. Just avoid working out for now, got it?"
"Wait, you're telling me to stop completely...for a while?"
When Gabriel turned to Jet's direction, he became suspicious of the man's panic. "What, you're a singer, right? Do you have to dance with that?" Maybe the way he pointed that out made the entertainer appear amateurish. So far the patient's character was too inward- moving around onstage felt probably didn't match his level of charisma. Personally, an instrument seemed to be a suitable combination.
"No...I just got a saxophone and my voice." The musician rectified, careful not to stand up too fast. He was about to stagger past the doorway and into the confusing halls until he decided to give some appreciation, "Oh- um...and thanks, doctor." At least nobody tried to bite him during his short stay at the hospital; that paramedic intimidated him yesterday with the scolding.
"Who, me?" A new cigarette was stuffed into the mouth of Dr. Cunningham after he coughed the two words out. He wanted to chill out in his real office, and the random gesture of gratitude he didn't seem happy on receiving. "I didn't do anything." He grumbled out while his hand turned the knob on the backdoor.
The patient, who originally didn't catch on to this man's kicked back composure, called out one more time. "Wait-" A golden opportunity caused his eyes to light up when he requested, "Could you...maybe come by where I work and hear me...you know, give a night performance?" He kept a shy grin at the disinterested gaze of his doctor, who spun around immediately upon the idea. The address was mentioned as well, "Oh yeah, the diner- it's south from here. It's pretty close to Cumberland College...um...inside East Plaza. What do you say, doctor?" Those directions weren't going to work on a map. But RONI may have a clue.
A long pause followed as the invitee scratched his head. He croaked out one thought, "Do they...serve dinner?"
"All three meals of the day." A cheeky smile and thumbs-up went along with the announcement.
Now for the essential question: "Is it good?" Gabriel regularly hops on over to the mall next-door for his meals...because the cafeteria stuff just doesn't go well with his taste. He couldn't break the habit and drive to someplace new just to listen to some jazz tunes. While waiting, he gave a careful stare.
Wrinkles were made in Jet's leather jacket as he rubbed his temples, thinking up a persuasive response rather than a blunt 'yeah.' "I've been playing there for years. We usually get a crowd at night, so..." The problem in word choice was 'crowd' for the diagnostician.
"And why am I going?" The menu sounded desirable, but the value in going went down when picking up the fact that the performer already has fans.
The man, lacking the inspiration to make a great argument, shrugged and said, "Uh...it's a good place for a guy's night out." A wayward frown creased on the other person's face, so he made a suggestion, "Bring a friend for dinner?"
"Oh." At first the gap led the diagnostician to infer that he had to hang out with this complete stranger. Now he could picture his co-worker, Hank Freebird, coming along. "I'll think about it." He wavered over leaving the conversation as it is, so instead of walking into his little room of peace straightaway, he held back to hear the guy say the ordinary 'bye doctor.' On a whim, he yawned while still facing the back, "Drop the formalities already..."
"Huh?" Jet blurted out. His feet refrained from stumbling off into the building while he asked, "You mean..."
"Name's Gabriel. I'm sure that's better than saying 'doctor,' eh?" After naming himself, he waved back and strolled into his office smoothly. He shot a glance at the calendar then made a side note, "I'll see you Saturday night." A queer feeling came to him when he shut the door: fate had a tendency to shake up a few things when he abandoned his old ways. Something was bound to go terribly wrong. But what?
"Wha...?" The patient blinked a couple of times from the sudden agreement to his invite. "Saturday...is..." He mouthed the day twice more then shouted, "I'll tell a waitress to get a spot for you, Gabriel!" He finally departed from the examination room; though he still looked gawky while finding the exit, his entire focus was on what to perform tomorrow...
The man who enclosed himself in the cozy room nearby chuckled at the kiddish excitement from that yell. He sat in the middle of his sofa, bent over with a mug of coffee in his hands. "What an oddball, that guy..." Resurgam and its curious faces, indeed.
Hm. Too bad he never wrote down the surname. Then RONI could do some internet research to see how popular the singer really was- not that the doctor had the urge to stalk his clients.
Okay, he should erase that thought; the bad knees were more of a puzzle he would like to piece out.
"Gabe!"
Well, solving that just became the least of his troubles. Esha Patel clearly begged for attention, so he tilted his head to the second entrance of the room. He spoke curtly, "What now?" To him, the Chief had a glowing expression of joy, which meant that the something-bad-going-to-happen had just made his front door.
"H-hey! Don't talk to me like that- I deserve some respect, you know..!" The woman immediately began scrutinizing her subordinate, using the universal hands-on-her-hips to show authority. The turquoise earrings she wore today fluctuated along with her voice, "A-anyways, this is...about a new doctor I wanna hire." She tried to crack a smile at the man's callous gaze and said as an incentive, "You don't mind getting fewer patients, right?"
"(Depends who they are...)" Gabriel thought with a incredulous frown. It had been a while since his last meticulous examination with a pig-headed client. "Uh..." In general, the Tillman episode was enough to convince him for a change. "And the pay?" He almost let the financial aspect of this arrangement fly by him.
"The same."
He wasn't sure if the manager failed to do her math or was just playing with him. "Right...what's the catch?" So far the proposition appeared too good to not have any strings attached.
The one explaining bit her lip and grumbled, "What do you mean? It's just another diagnostician...she'll be working across from here." A small wait took place before she produced another answer, "Oh, and I'm assigning most of the younger patients to you." The facial response of the other gave her the implication that he would disapprove these changes.
A little debatable, but he'll have to save that for later. "That it?" If he wasn't restricted on word choice, he'd say 'scram.'
"Also, make sure you show her the ropes." Naturally Esha would go to him for that. She appeared inanimate for another moment, her stance the same-old crossed arms. "Did you see Hank by any chance?"
As much as Gabriel regretted it, he doesn't keep tabs on his co-workers. Wait, that was another one of her problems, again nothing to do with him. "Beats me..." The Chief wouldn't accept that, so he bumbled, "Did you give him an early leave or something?"
The forgetful manager relaxed her arms at her carelessness. "I just changed the lunch break scheduling...Oh shoot. Later-!" She found herself flying out the room, having an errand she needed to run. At the turn of events, the doctor couldn't help laughing inside...although he was unchanged on the outside.
"(Funny...guess family make all the difference.)" Ever since the sister crashed into the hospital, Esha's been quite clumsy...and for himself, he didn't want to think about it.
"Pretty excited today, huh? Wonder if he'll ever get tired of holding my bags..." Claire Blunt teased quietly as she watched her closest friend in Resurgam First Care idly pass the marble fountain that was erected in the center of ATLUS Mall. She had crossed arms and let out a playful smirk in response to the giant's typical, wide smile. Her pale lavender eyes checked a designer analog clock that was featured in one of the stores and commented on his arrival, "You're a little early."
Hank Freebird could recognize the elegant black dress and slender but graceful stature from any vibrant corner of the building. He was still a little exhausted from the long walk, and failed to bring up the matter of his successful negotiations with the Chief that gave him his shortened shift. Instead, he took the time to soak in the lovely picture of the grand fountain enhanced with gentle sunlight. "It's beautiful today, isn't it?"
"Hmm. I guess." Ms. Blunt replied with a easygoing laugh while she turned to share the view with her company. This memorable landmark was becoming a habitual rendezvous point for the young woman's shopping trips, which took place about once or twice a week. These meetings were a sign of her avid interest in cooking, specifically baking and making a variety of delightful pastries. Before setting off, she twirled a strand of her short purple hair as she asked the orthopedic surgeon, "Got any interesting stories for me? Sorry I haven't really visited lately."
The man talked as he followed her though the Saturday crowds, "Well, I had a young patient Thursday afternoon...He had a few of us running when he was trying to hide his injuries." He avoided specific names, and forgot about including some of the more crucial details. The one beside him perked up slightly; although Claire wasn't fully able to relate to this kid he was mentioning, the story was enough to remind herself of how she was when Hank first met her.
The doctor's tolerance on the issue convinced her that the evasive patient was nothing in comparison to her suicidal attempts. She assumed aloud, "So did this guy break his arm or something?" Hearing a 'no' from him only piqued her interest. "Really. I thought it was boring chase— you mean he ran with a broken leg?" Her attention was lost elsewhere in the building in the meantime.
"A fellow friend helped him...when he got the the OR, the leg bone was about to tear the muscle and skin. I'm considering visiting him later." Dr. Freebird didn't see, but sensed a tiny, wicked smirk coming from his listener. He must have sparked old memories with his last sentence.
The woman cheered for him, though she sounded more sarcastic than she meant to, "Have fun. It might turn out better than what happened with me." Too bad she wouldn't be able to watch it play out; child sounded younger than her.
"Thanks for the support." Hank chuckled, not able to conceive her intentions of a joke behind her words. Skimming the clothing and grocery stores nearby, he couldn't help asking the same old question, "Where are you planning to go to today?" His carefree friend shrugged with her hands up, but later set them down upon the sight of another face.
"Hey...she's here." The light hair of the girl swayed in one direction as she started waving weakly to a figure riding down an escalator. She shouted out with a frail smile, "Elise!" Not familiar with the name, the giant beside her wrinkled his eyebrows a little as he glanced back.
Instead of spotting the matching light blue skirt and blouse of an auburn-haired woman, Hank's eyes gazed upon the Resurgam First Response jacket that a man accompanying her wore. When Claire called out her acquaintance, the woman's brown eyes looked around frantically; the male companion, who was probably carrying her purchased foodstuff in that heavy paper bag, said something to her before gesturing calmly at the pair of pale arms signaling them in the air. At the same time, he stared coldly at the doctor's lab coat, as if a large blot was on it.
"A friend?" The giant said cordially in this rather warm surprise. He didn't know his old patient had grown connections outside of the people at the hospital in such a short time.
As the pair approached, one in more of a hurry than the other, Ms. Blunt winked to the dazed man standing at her side, replying, "She's a classmate from a cooking class. Talented." Since the young chef didn't want to sound inferior, she added on in a secretive voice, "About the same level as me."
Hank drew a light smile. "I see." Judging by the student's and her followers heights, it was plausible to reason that they were a bit older than Claire, perhaps in their mid-twenties. However the dovish expression on Elise's face deceived him to believe she was approximately the same age as the other hobbyist chef.
"Are you getting ingredients, too, Claire?" Despite the natural grace of the voice, both the doctor and the EMT were completely overlooked. Before he could introduce himself, Dr. Freebird saw that the two females had spontaneously began a conversation and unintentionally left out the men.
The black-haired stranger didn't bother opening his mouth like Hank. He crouched down and quickly relieved himself of the weight from the trip, his dark gaze going to the television set that was built into one of the columns holding the second floor up. Hank extended a hand out to the distracted gentleman, greeting, "I'm Dr. Freebird from Resurgam's orthopedics department—"
"Kevin. Assistant to the head of the paramedic team." The man refused to shake the giant's hand when he didn't break away from the screen, which was showing more news reports on Portland's latest traffic accident: the unsolved police chase that jammed the intersection of Old Ferry and Carson Road...
Hank drew a large breath when confronting this topic. "Were you there?" Esha had said she even called in those that were not on duty for the incident, it was a big deal. As he raised his head to read the headlines, he heard an answer that was different than what he anticipated.
"I was about to pass the crossroads when it happened, so I was the first one there." The face of the witness was impassive despite what he had seen. "They say It was a huge defeat for the officials...it was worse for the doctors." Making no comment, Dr. Freebird felt it was best if he left the angered man be.
But when the orthopedic surgeon tried to join the ladies in their chat, he noticed they already arrived to the subject. He concentrated on Elise's attempt to recapture her experience on the event. She seemed a little shy when she was trying to share, "I was working in the soup kitchen at the time. I didn't hear the entire story until I got back to the orphanage, some of the kids got involved in the accident..." She saw the giant's facial response and explained, "I volunteer in the homeless kitchens weekly...and..." With an embarrassed laugh, she confessed, "Develop my cooking."
Before Hank could assure her that it was nothing to be afraid of saying, Claire questioned, "You cook in an orphanage too?" By the way she spoke, the observant girl was already aware of the first location her friend worked in. Kevin finally gave the group his attention when he turned away from the TV, which had just started featuring a scheduled program.
"Oh— I run an orphanage on the outskirts of the city. The kids there like to travel to town quite often...and I can't always stop them." Elise saw the dumbfounded faces of the two in front of her and assured, "It's not the one that caught on fire earlier this week! That one is downtown." But she had misinterpreted their reaction, and for that reason, the lilac-eyed girl frowned while shaking her head. "Then...why are you two surprised?"
Being nosy couldn't be prevented. Claire played detective as she said, "That's a bit shady. You, a chef born in one of the richest families in the area working in a soup kitchen while owning an orphanage just out of town?" The suspect blinked naively as she verified the summary with a nod. The giant was once again cut off from the talk, he saw he girl tapping the side of her head when she chaffed, "I don't get it. You're too nice. Way...too nice."
"O-oh...?" Without a clue of what that really meant, the classmate was left to imply that the words were an exaggerated compliment. Her face remained blank at that. "I... I guess you can...say that?" The other cook gave a depressed sigh, continuing to toy with the ends of her bangs.
Dr. Freebird could relive that moment when Claire made fun of him for being too kind. To him, perhaps Elise was too pure-hearted to totally understand the former patient's doubts. The paramedic behind the unaffected woman was disgruntled at her aloofness, but took the chance to dismiss themselves, "Let's go..." He already held the groceries, an indication of his impatience to stick around.
Elise's reddish-brown hair, which hung down in front of her left shoulder, nearly flung to around to the other side when she whirled around in realization of the lost time. "Oh right...! Sorry, I got carried away." She hurried in her sandals after Kevin, clumsily waving back to the pair. "Nice to see you two—Goodbye!"
Watching to two scurry off, Ms. Blunt gave an entertained giggle, particularly at the lady trying to catch up in her long skirt. She sighed regretfully, "I forgot to ask if that was her boyfriend or not. He's too straight-faced for her." With her honest opinion, Hank thought about black-haired EMT; Kevin's calm personality strangely reminded him of the prisoner, but the anger made him think differently.
"Is he like her?" Claire grew a somewhat tense frown.
"Not...exactly." The orthopedic surgeon murmured back hesitantly. He wasn't the type to look at other people under a microscope like his friend, who enjoyed her perceptive nature. He glanced back at her to announce, "We better be moving on as well. Where do you want to start?" His former patient was still looking in the far distance, despite the couple already gone far from view. "Claire?"
The girl shifted a tired gaze at him, then beyond the fountain. "Let's check out that place first," She pointed with a dark-painted fingernail. The pleasant encounter must have been on her mind when she set off, as her face was unchanged from before.
"Is something wrong?" Now that he could reflect on it, she must have learned quite a bit from her classmate today. Maybe that forgotten hate of hypocrites made her think too much of it. "About that meeting just now?" He had a firm crease on his eyebrows, it was rare to see her restless over a minor discussion.
Ms. Blunt was peeking around the corner when she explained, "I...didn't ask what happened to those orphans, got too mixed up in profiling her. Hey Hank, how's that kid doing, the one you said tried to run?" The black dress spun out widely, the girl being hasty to demand a direct answer.
The doctor was too startled at her thoughtfulness to respond fast enough. "The operation went smoothly...I'll tell you more after I talk to him." Claire's eyes wandered from his face, her mouth blurting 'oh' when she remembered. She neared a supermarket and let out a breath as she went in in front of him.