013 [audio

[worksmart]

[Filtered to Police, Hospital, Friends || hackable;]

Something in Eden Mac Cionaoith's body came after me, but it's not her. I know whatever it is can't keep doing this, but if you're trying to stop it, bear in mind it's holding a sick kid hostage in there. And be careful.

[/end filter]So I can't get out of the damn room, and nobody else can get

Comments

[as_damaged]

No one's been in to check on you?

[worksmart]

Apart from you rattling the door earlier, no. You couldn't hear me?

[as_damaged]

I didn't. I assumed you'd locked it so you could get some sleep uninterrupted, and I figured you could use the rest.

[worksmart]

Right. We provide all patients with their own key so they can lock us out. Works great with the psych ward.

I was calling. I couldn't get to the door.

1/2

[adamantined]

Did you barricade the door with puzzle boxes and empty cups that in no way contained liquid of any kind?

[adamantined]

Also the answer is 'banana.'

1/2

[worksmart]

Getting to the door means a lot more walking than I'm capable of right now. Did you leave a trail of them in your wake?

[worksmart]

24 letters. It would have to be 'bananananananananananana.'

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[worksmart]

He can't hear her, but he catches the knock at the door and assumes Cameron's still playing the consummate professional card. It seems like it's her best way of dealing with him right now - strictly business. After a few minutes, like earlier, the knocking turns to rattling at a stuck, useless handle.

"I told you it won't open!" he calls back, swinging his legs round to sit on the edge of the bed. He's not risking the trek to the door without a crutch, not with one knee bundled up like a preschooler on a snow day. No one's given him a crutch yet, because he's not supposed to be out of bed.

[if you're looking for a catfight, get your ass in front of the referee.]

[as_damaged]

If only that nurse had taken a moment to try the knob...

Two minutes of arguing and explaining that the door is not locked does nothing to convince the harried nurse that she should leave Cameron alone. And so the immunologist finds herself headed back towards Chase's room, already suspicious at the mention of a 'concerned relative.'

When she rounds the corner to find Angela waiting outside the room, she's honestly tempted to turn on her heel and send up a janitor. As much as she'd like to be big about this-- after all, technically speaking Angela is the wronged party (or a wronged party, anyway,)-- it's hard to be rational, hard to muster any compassion. The last thing she wants in the world is a rivalry, because Cameron knows she's bound to lose, unwilling to participate-- it necessitates an admission she doesn't want to make. But she doesn't want to surrender, either

[wankersometimes]

Just what kind of crummy clinic are you in?

[worksmart]

I'm in the city general. You know, the place where the real doctors work.

[wankersometimes]

Any real doctors come by to check you lately?

[worksmart]

I don't need a doctor, I need a janitor to take the bloody door off.

voice;

[vicodincrutch]

Nobody? Hope springs eternal.

voice;

[worksmart]

Hilarious. Hope I don't die of graft-versus-host while we're all giggling about it.

voice;

[vicodincrutch]

Seeing as you're so lonely and those mewling cries for help are still ignored I'll just pop in.

voice;

[worksmart]

You can try. Cameron's been shaking the door off its hinges all morning.