Predictably, Candice isn't tremendously fond of hospital stays. Her intake into the ER was something of a blur, and she's lucky she managed to punch off a message to anyone who might be interested in her welfare back home before passing out. Her ribs hurt. Her wrist is in its cast. They've given her painkillers, but her injuries don't
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(He couldn't do anything about the boots, but let's be fair, here: they're very nice boots.)
Understandably, his attire is about the furthest thing from his mind right now, reining in whatever impulses he might be having in favor of finding somebody who can tell him where she is.
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Candice isn't really asleep, so much as kind of spacing out. There's a big window by her bed, watching traffic is at least mind-numbing.
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"Am I waking you?" he asks, from the doorway.
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"Hey...no, I'm up. Come in, close the door?"
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