(Untitled)
Slowly going insane. Please send caffeine.
Guppy is sitting in a booth near the infirmary, large black cat curled up at his feet. In front of him, a copy of the Holby Evening Post, which he is reading ( Read more... )
Guppy is sitting in a booth near the infirmary, large black cat curled up at his feet. In front of him, a copy of the Holby Evening Post, which he is reading ( Read more... )
Comments 23
The sound of coughing might make Guppy look up from his newspaper.
And if he does look up, well, he’ll see Sands sat a few tables away, even paler than before, bruises vivid and apparently coughing up a lung around his cigarette.
At least there’s no sign of the knife.
Although that might not be very encouraging.
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He does look up, briefly, and sighs.
He's certainly not going over. It's an instinctive reaction to knife weilding maniacs. But the sign is there and Sands can seek help if he wants to.
But there is no way Guppy is treating him without Sam or a member of security present. Especially since he seems to have stabbed the last person who tried to help him.
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He reads it, and then glances up at Guppy, the scales weighing his options practically visible in his eyes.
“Do you have,” he says at length, “any painkillers?”
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"Yes Sands, but not on me. I'll help you but I won't take you into the infirmary without an eschort."
His voice is calm, but firm. He knows Sands would have to be an idiot to attack him in the middle of the bar but he's been attacked in the infirmary before, and has no intention of letting it happen again.
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