It was still raining, and Clark was standing in it. If doing such was ill-advised, he either didn't seem to notice or care. His dark hair was plastered down over his forehead and rainwater ran in rivulets down the planes of his face and neck. The sky was still thick with dark clouds, and he was standing just outside the front door to the
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"Are you serious?" he asked, face contorting in incredulity. "You fight me to leave the clinic in a hospital gown just to turn around and walk outside during the tail end of a hurricane? Is flying in the face of medical sense fun for you?"
He still suspected that there really was something wrong with this guy, and maybe not just in the physical sense. Whether he was psychotic or not, ill or not, standing around soaking wet wouldn't do any good. "Do you know where the towels are?" he queried tiredly.
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"Ah, yes, thank you. Unless they've been moved from the laundry room." He'd purposely ignored the first questions, and if things went according to plan, Cam wouldn't press the matter.
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Cam sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Sorry. The storm's got me wound up and ... things," he said vaguely. The missing persons list the IPD had compiled was a longer than Cam would have liked, and it annoyed him that he couldn't do anything about it. Again. "They shouldn't have moved, but with all the people here, there might not be any clean ones."
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"I think I'll go find those towels now," he added pleasantly, and nodded down the hallway towards the stairs.
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He sighed and followed after Clark. Half of him expected to see no clean towels available in the laundry room, and then have to volunteer his towel for Clark to use. The other half expected to find towels so he could mop up that puddle.
"So, other than splashing around gayly during a hurricane, how have you been settling in to all this?" It was in his nature to take care of things that annoyed him.
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