So about that visit...
Who: Naomi Hunter (Javert) and Nathan Drake
Where: Naomi's Clinic/Government District
Style: First
Status: Closed
[Drake wasn't entirely sure how he felt about hospitals which is why he had been avoiding the visit for so long. Well, technically it was a lab, but same thing, same smell, same look...? Sort of. The lobby threw him off as it looked rather cozy and welcoming and he just figured that was a special touch on Naomi's part. It relaxed him a little.
And why was he even here again? He looked like shit- slightly disheveled, tired despite the sleep he had gotten, sore, and just, overall, beaten. Drake felt worse than he looked too and his eyes may be lacking that usual glimmer, his face that charming smile. Then there was the matter of his old wound that felt seemingly irritated due to the kick he received. But it wasn't that the pain was bothering him physically, instead it was serving as a reminder of how it got there in the first place and all the shit that entailed. He's seen better days, that much is certain were one to really look at him, but he wasn't about to let on just how shitty he felt.
As far as anyone was concerned he simply hadn't gotten sleep and people thought he was punch-able. Or kick-able, in this case. Not that he was life's punching bag (which sadly seemed to be the case).
Walking nearby the front desk he looked around for any sign of Naomi; trying his best to look like his usual self. He was sort of pulling it off.]
Uh... Naomi?
[How do walk-in appointments work again?]
Where: Naomi's Clinic/Government District
Style: First
Status: Closed
[Drake wasn't entirely sure how he felt about hospitals which is why he had been avoiding the visit for so long. Well, technically it was a lab, but same thing, same smell, same look...? Sort of. The lobby threw him off as it looked rather cozy and welcoming and he just figured that was a special touch on Naomi's part. It relaxed him a little.
And why was he even here again? He looked like shit- slightly disheveled, tired despite the sleep he had gotten, sore, and just, overall, beaten. Drake felt worse than he looked too and his eyes may be lacking that usual glimmer, his face that charming smile. Then there was the matter of his old wound that felt seemingly irritated due to the kick he received. But it wasn't that the pain was bothering him physically, instead it was serving as a reminder of how it got there in the first place and all the shit that entailed. He's seen better days, that much is certain were one to really look at him, but he wasn't about to let on just how shitty he felt.
As far as anyone was concerned he simply hadn't gotten sleep and people thought he was punch-able. Or kick-able, in this case. Not that he was life's punching bag (which sadly seemed to be the case).
Walking nearby the front desk he looked around for any sign of Naomi; trying his best to look like his usual self. He was sort of pulling it off.]
Uh... Naomi?
[How do walk-in appointments work again?]