Wyatt had been prepared for the sight of several flu victims, but he didn't expect it to be this bad. He counted at least 15 beds, and who knew if the people tending to them would get sick as well. He conferred briefly with Dr. Troy to find out what procedures they had in place, grabbed a mask, and got to work.
[ooc: Christian modded without
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The amount of energy he'd put into making sure that was the case wasn't something he was willing to discuss.
He stomped into the hall, telltale signs of fever apparent in his eyes and glared. "Can someone tell me that I'm fine so I can go yell at the overdramatic Jedi back in the dorms?" he demanded.
Someone was going to be a peach as a patient.
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"Don't call me son," Anakin snapped, stuffing his hands into the sides of his robes. "And I'm not sick."
Pause.
"I'm not that sick. I don't get sick!"
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Of course she wasn't really able to offer much besides an extra pair of hands as she walked around trying to be useful. Apparently assassin training didn't cover plagues. Go figure.
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Still, he's going to help out as many people as possible. He's very determined like that.
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