Who:
chatwithdeath,
fbilittleguy , and later,
drcr_s01 What: Someone else has the virus, but there's a solution
When: Evening to Midnight Friday
Where: Room 6-5a, later the OR
Warnings: Angst, pissed off examiner, and surgery
(
No disease is incurable )
Comments 69
[She couldn't have come at a worse time - Naomi would catch him bent on all fours on the floor, both hands clamped desperately over his mouth as he tried to prevent more of his blood from his mouth and eyes from seeping into the bucket below. Shit! This wasn't good...!]
Don't come in! I'll... I'll come see you later, I promise! I'm changing!
[He's terrified that the shakiness of his croaky voice will blow his cover completely...]
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[She frowned. Something sounded off... still, she would let him have the benefit of the doubt a little longer]
Change faster before I kick the door.
M-Miss, please d-don't...
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About half the time it would take him to clean up his face and get changed into unbloodied clothes.]
...Y-Yeah... J-Just ugh... ...Wait.
[He struggles to his knees to grab a new jacket from the closet - but doesn't make it far. He stumbles exhaustedly over the side of a table, falling to the floor. And now, he doesn't move.]
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Are you going to--?
S-Sorry!
[Naomi blinked. Why did the door have to apologize? It wasn't like it had done any-- holy...! She knelt down next to Little Guy, placing a hand on his shoulder. Ugh, the room reeked of blood... the carpet was stained and... a bucket? Dammit! Really?!]
Little Guy! Hey! Say something!
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[The OR was set up. Michael was already inside, stripped down and on the table, covered and hooked up to each necessary machine. Scalpels, forceps, tray, syringe, drain... yes, it seemed like everything was there. Her eyes turned towards the surgeon at the sink]
Dr. Sartre...
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Dr. Kimishima.
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[He had been sick for so long... With all the technology, they were still going in blind.]
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