WHO: Monet, Cuckoos, Jamie, and medical personnel (at first), then OPEN to anyone who wants to stop by to say hi.
WHERE: Clinic
WHEN: Two and a half days after the
showdown with Emplate.
WARNINGS: Bad Paramore lyrics.
SUMMARY: Monet's been unconscious for two days. The Stepford Cuckoos help wake her sorry ass.
FORMAT: Quicklog.
(
it's all about the exposure, the lens, I told her // the angles were all wrong now )
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I'll be fine now that you're here, Doctor.
[ She could probably use a few painkillers, but she'd never admit it. ]
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I should hope so. I imagine you're in a great deal of pain right now, so I can up the dosage on your morphine drip here a bit to help you get comfortable.
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I thought I was the telepath.
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On most days, you'd be right. In here, it's my job to approximate your gift as best I can.
You have friends hoping to see you. Are you feeling up to it, or would you like more time to rest?
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I think you'd be surprised of what I'm capable of.
[ She's trying to keep a light, flirtatious tone, but doesn't know whether the painkillers are dulling that, as well. This is such a new, surreal experience; she doesn't know what to feel. ]
I'd like to see them.
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If you're feeling strong, I'll let them in, starting with the man who brought you here.
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[It seems safe to assume there's something between the two, but it's not his way to pry. So he slips out the door to tell Mr. Madrox the good news.]
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Of course you wake up the moment I leave for a drink.
[ He shook his head. ] I mean 'Hey.'
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[ She really means thank you. ]
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Pot to kettle, Monet. [ He snarked breathlessly. ]
...Glad you're okay. [ He offered up a smile. ]
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Have you been here all night?
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Huh...? Oh. Yeah, [ He yawns and scratches at the back of his head. ] I guess so.
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