[ Less than twenty minutes ago,
Lamb's room appeared uneventfully over the network. Now it appears again, with a frantic face in front of the monitor. ]
Doctor. We need a doctor in here!
[ Alex's face is sort of sallow and pinched, slightly-raised red blotches climbing up his throat and jaw. The doctor's not for him, though. He keeps glancing
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You're a doctor?
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Wait - look - my friend's sick or something, I mean she's not moving, she really needs a doctor.
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I suggest you wait until she thaws and practice your aim for future reference.
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[ Alex bristles at the accusation - the anger just leaps up inside him with unusual speed, claws out. ]
Fuck you! I didn't - fuck you!
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Then what happened?
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[ It doesn't help his anger that he really did consider using a plasmid on her, not a week ago. He's not forgiven himself for that. He doesn't think he will. ]
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She said my name. She spoke.
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[ He stares at Alex's crazy eyes, having already formed a diagnosis in his mind. ]
All right, I'll come have a look. That's-
[ Tracking... tracking... hack-ity-hack...]
Number nine, seventh floor?
[ It's not really a question and he's already off. He will take his sweet time though, because for one thing he is not actually the kind of doctor Alex is looking for and he knows it.
Granted, he's got his first aid covered and given how many organisms he's helped destroy it's not entirely out of the question that he might be able to fix one, but... quite frankly, he's doubtful this "friend" of Alex even exists. ]
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