(no subject)
WHO: Sam Vimes (stonyfaced), Dean Winchester (canecieco)
WHAT: Information gathering regarding Vescovo
WHERE: The hospital
WHEN: Day 182, evening
It was dark by the time Vimes reached the hospital, soaked through by the rain and thoroughly sober. Which was a change. He entered the hospital, wishing for a good smoke, but he figured it was probably a bad idea in a hospital.
Still, though, this was one of the first leads he had gotten in a long time. Despite his misgivings regarding people sending fasle information in hopes of misleading and the general unreliability of the entire city, he felt anticipation stirring in his stomach.
It took a bit of coercion to get into the room at this hour, but he managed it: a badge and a voice of authority did wonders against receptionists who only gave a damn about keeping their jobs, not the health of the patients. Vimes' footsteps were quiet against the tiles. It was the walk of a copper, an easy gait that was ready to break into a run at any moment. In the opposite direction, if need be. A cleanly sanitized door met his vision and he knocked twice, sharply, professionally, before entering.
"Mr. Winchester?"
WHAT: Information gathering regarding Vescovo
WHERE: The hospital
WHEN: Day 182, evening
It was dark by the time Vimes reached the hospital, soaked through by the rain and thoroughly sober. Which was a change. He entered the hospital, wishing for a good smoke, but he figured it was probably a bad idea in a hospital.
Still, though, this was one of the first leads he had gotten in a long time. Despite his misgivings regarding people sending fasle information in hopes of misleading and the general unreliability of the entire city, he felt anticipation stirring in his stomach.
It took a bit of coercion to get into the room at this hour, but he managed it: a badge and a voice of authority did wonders against receptionists who only gave a damn about keeping their jobs, not the health of the patients. Vimes' footsteps were quiet against the tiles. It was the walk of a copper, an easy gait that was ready to break into a run at any moment. In the opposite direction, if need be. A cleanly sanitized door met his vision and he knocked twice, sharply, professionally, before entering.
"Mr. Winchester?"