Natalie made her way over to the desk, looking over the notes for the past few days, and was surprised. Had she missed an invasion? She didn't think so; she would have heard the commotion. Giving the patient charts a good once-over, she headed for the rooms to check on them. Nat couldn't help but wonder what it was these kids kept getting into...

( Read more... )

Janet stumbling into the clinic, travel mug of coffee almost spilling, hoping no one noticed that she was late

Christian settled behind the front desk for his shift.

He may have strategically placed some mistletoe about the clinic.

Janet was in Exam Room 2 at the clinic, prepping to collect blood from any Chosen One who happened to be wandering by. Or who was going to be yanked in by Dean Zordon. Or who was going to be found in any other manner.

Because they would get enough blood to help Angel. Even if Janet had to personally hunt down every single Chosen One at this ( Read more... )

Natalie paced before the front desk, Angel's chart beating a steady rhythm against her thigh as she walked, tapping it absently. She filed anxiously at her thumbnail with her teeth and sighed frequently. As horrible as it was to think, things had been easier while Angel was unconscious. She could attend him, research a cure, and not worry about a ( Read more... )

Natalie arrived to find the clinic still standing, though the new "rules" posted on the message board seems to indicate there was trouble. Well, that and the ruins of the television still sitting outside where the garbage men have refused to take it to the dump ( Read more... )

By 6:30, Natalie has taken the watch from Alanna, and is settled in to her desk, scrolling through a few professional websites. She also has open her instant messenger window, personal webmail, and LiveJournal a blogging site. Her book is laying to the right, still covered in brown paper, and to the left is a spiral-bound notebook with an ink pen ( Read more... )