*DEATH strolls into the clinic with a pile of official looking papers in his hands. He seems to be working on something. Periodically you notice what looks like a Victoria's Secret catalog at which DEATH scratches his head. Or skull.
His rubber duck seems to be absent.*
((OOC: DEATH!mun is heading to bed. Feel free to bleed all over the floor,
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*DEATH, making his assistantly rounds, checks in on Rory. If she could see him, she would notice that he is wearing plain, basic black robes and seems to be quite confused. Or as confused as a person with a skull could be.*
HOW ARE YOU RECOVERING?
*DEATH takes a seat next to her bed, checking vitals with cool efficiency. The aura of chilled dread in the air seems vaguely off-kilter.*
"I'm okay," Rory replies, shivering slightly. "Er...better. Talking is more than I was doing yesterday."
THIS IS GOOD TO HEAR. THE SOONER YOU RECOVER, THE SOONER YOU CAN CONTINUE THIS LIVING THING YOU MORTALS ARE SO FOND OF.
IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.
“Will do,” Rory replies with a nod. She continues to stare at the ceiling after DEATH leaves, and starts humming again.
[ooc: DEATH not actually being modded. I'm just fixing a comment error from earlier, y'all.]
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