There are few people, Mikami thinks, looking around at the crowd outside the kitchen, who have less right to be here than he does. But he had to come. To do something. Because L is from his world, which makes him involved already, and more than that, because someone is hurt, possibly dying, and there's a word for the kind of person who stands by and lets that happen, isn't there?
There are already people cleaning, and others appearing in the corridor, wanting to know what's going on. He overhears the words need equipment, and raises a hand, speaking over the general murmur.
It's Mikami, but Matt doesn't give a shit. All he cares about it getting this done, and getting it done right.
He's also suffering under the impression that if he's not by L's side for every single second, he ought to be helping to complete every single task that needs to be done.
"I know where it is. I was hoping to find how many others knew. To - carry things, or to wish, I don't know whether there's a limit on the number of wishes for one person..."
He's speaking too rapidly, more agitated by this than he has any right to be, and makes himself stop it.
It hardly occurs to him to ask; when it does, he irritably pushes the thought out of his mind. It's interesting, what this kind of fear for someone's life can do.
"Thanks," Matt mutters, taking the pen and paper and beginning to scribble down what they need. It's a long list: anesthetic and antibiotics, scrubs and scalpels and gloves, surgical tools, masks and hats, needles and swabs and a blood bag with an anti-coagulant and all sorts of other things; putting them into any kind of order is pretty difficult. Eventually, he finds himself with two lists.
"Here," he says, giving one of them to Mikami. "I'll get the first lot. Come on."
"All right." He follows Matt, reading down the list - he doesn't know what several of the things are, but presumably the room will. Hopefully it will. They're incredibly lucky to have a surgeon here at all.
There are already people cleaning, and others appearing in the corridor, wanting to know what's going on. He overhears the words need equipment, and raises a hand, speaking over the general murmur.
"How many people know the way to the wish room?"
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It's Mikami, but Matt doesn't give a shit. All he cares about it getting this done, and getting it done right.
He's also suffering under the impression that if he's not by L's side for every single second, he ought to be helping to complete every single task that needs to be done.
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He's speaking too rapidly, more agitated by this than he has any right to be, and makes himself stop it.
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Unnecessary but really fucking useful, he means. A hospital bed might be nice, for one thing.
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It would be useful to write it down, probably, and sort things roughly in terms of priority.
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"Thanks," Matt mutters, taking the pen and paper and beginning to scribble down what they need. It's a long list: anesthetic and antibiotics, scrubs and scalpels and gloves, surgical tools, masks and hats, needles and swabs and a blood bag with an anti-coagulant and all sorts of other things; putting them into any kind of order is pretty difficult. Eventually, he finds himself with two lists.
"Here," he says, giving one of them to Mikami. "I'll get the first lot. Come on."
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"I might add cigarettes to the list," he mutters. His voice sounds strained.
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Matt still hasn't asked him what he's doing here. He's grateful, he wouldn't know how to explain.
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"Can you think of anything else? Anything else they might need?"
As if he wasn't given the list by an actual surgeon - as if Mikami knows any more about this kind of surgery than Matt does.
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