Day 29: Waiting Room/Lobby 1
When the nurse suddenly appeared after the intercom's announcement, Ritsuka could only stare at her. He had a visitor? He knew that Miku had one, but to think that he would get one? He couldn't imagine who would come to see him. Seimei was gone, Soubi was here... Or so he hoped. It had been almost two shifts since he'd last seen the older man. Seimei had disappeared in less time than that. As he was led to the waiting room, Ritsuka closed his eyes and tried to listen for that strange high pitched note that rang whenever a Fighter was around or calling.
He couldn't hear anything, but that wasn't any different from normal. Maybe Soubi just wasn't in the area, or he wasn't calling, or...
"Here we are, Jordan."
Ritsuka glanced up as the nurse opened the door and ushered him in. He turned and looked at her, searching for some sort of clue. This woman wasn't as talkative as his former nurse, however, and she only smiled at him in response. It was the first time he found himself missing the old chatterbox.
Being the first into the room, Ritsuka had little choice but to wait until the visitors began to show. Picking up an old copy of The New York Times, he moved toward one of the chairs lining the wall and sat down. The cushions weren't the most comfortable, but they were chairs and that's all that mattered. Never one to get nervous, Ritsuka was surprised to find that he couldn't help but tap a nervous rhythm out on the chair's arm as he waited.
He couldn't hear anything, but that wasn't any different from normal. Maybe Soubi just wasn't in the area, or he wasn't calling, or...
"Here we are, Jordan."
Ritsuka glanced up as the nurse opened the door and ushered him in. He turned and looked at her, searching for some sort of clue. This woman wasn't as talkative as his former nurse, however, and she only smiled at him in response. It was the first time he found himself missing the old chatterbox.
Being the first into the room, Ritsuka had little choice but to wait until the visitors began to show. Picking up an old copy of The New York Times, he moved toward one of the chairs lining the wall and sat down. The cushions weren't the most comfortable, but they were chairs and that's all that mattered. Never one to get nervous, Ritsuka was surprised to find that he couldn't help but tap a nervous rhythm out on the chair's arm as he waited.