He can distantly make out the figures around him through the haze of whatever it is they've injected into his bloodstream; they have the white coats and the equipment of doctors, for certain, but there's something off. Maybe it's the way they carry themselves, or the hushed manner in which they talk
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But she's at a loss for how to fight these people if she needs to, so she just holds it up as threateningly as she can. "Alright! What's going on here?"
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She'd better react fast.
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Greg hears the voice, singular compared to the others. He sees the vague shape of one approaching her, arm extended. nows your chance dont let them put her to sleep
He musters some will through his addled mind, and... barks?
Well, it's an odd reaction, but it's a distraction, of sorts. The strangers turn to look at him as one; if he is waking up, they need to finish him off as soon as possible, but this new girl could also be a bother...
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There are words on the wall beside Greg: "The dead speak truth." What could THAT mean? Not that he's in any condition for reading.
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She's grabbing Greg, tucking the scalpel into her belt, and trying to drag him as she speaks, but these people do need to understand their faults.
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oh hay thar wheelchair, how are you? How convenient.
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Greg's moaning a bit; obviously he's not too out of it, and may be slowly emerging from the effects of the drug. But there's not time to waste on that front.
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The files seem to be on various patients. Nobody she'd recognize... maybe? Though a couple of names may seem oddly familiar.
...also, apparently someone's hiding their booze habit in one of these drawers. What the HELL.
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*FLUMPH*
VERY awkwardly.
There are footsteps coming from down the hall.
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