Apr 28 06:33:12 106 PA
From Chronicles
This room is the same as thousands of other waiting rooms, reverberating back through the history of the multiverse. If it were empty, one would be able to look it over - one of the overhead fluorescent lights flickering in the corner - and see a place where injured people are crammed until somebody who might be able to help becomes available. The speckled off-white linoleum tiles stretch across the room, with several rows of somewhat uncomfortable looking chairs occupying a large portion of it. Reinforced to support a wide-range of weights and sizes, the chairs themselves lack any sort of padding for ease of cleaning, while their dark blue colour clashes slightly with the greenish hue of the walls.
The room is rarely empty, however, with injured and sick people from all over the dregs and less fortunate of Kingsdale coming and going with a (relatively) quick turnover. Though many of the chairs are bolted down, the few that aren't are oft pulled out of place to accommodate a hobo's broken and bleeding leg, or ragged mother's sick child. One in the know of current gang relations in the dregs might also be surprised to see opposing gang members avoiding eye-contact in opposite corners of the room, waiting for their most recent gunshot wounds to be tended to - possibly from the same shootout.
The pressure valve of the room lies through two aqua double-doors that are flanked on either side by desks. One of the desks is manned by constantly rotating secretaries who both handle the mass of paperwork that the hospital generates, and make sure the flow of patients remain constant. The other desk is often manned by large, burly men, who - despite the fact that they are presently only wearing nondescript black MDC armour - one might see leaving the building wearing a plethora of Colours, and one might do well to avoid just a few meters away from the hospital. In fact, they would likely do well to avoid them now as well, as it might be a Long Walk Home otherwise.
This early in the morning and the hospital is still hushed, that odd silence of large buildings where there is only a skeleton staff on. One room, however, is brightly lit, and the music can be heard through the glass doors. Inside, Maya is pacing, apparently talking to herself, her hands moving for emphasis. One hand holds a cardboard cup, apparently full of some drink containing caffeine. A turn and she points at a blown up picture hung from a clipboard beside her computer, speaking rapidly. Each movement causes her bunches to bounce, and the pile of empty cups on the side suggest a long haul.
A brief double-tap and the door opens a little at first, quickly, and then slowly as Sebastien squints in at the choice of music. Ugh. Less screaming, more singing. He makes a face, tongue lolling out and eyes elevated, before wondering in that strained, quiet voice one tends to gain after screaming at gang bangers all night, "Mademoiselle, my shift is coming to a close. Is it that you want a sandwich or something like this, that I could grab before I go?" The yet-scrubs-clad Sebastien lets the door swing shut, eyes swinging curiously about to see what on Earth the woman is up to now.
Maya is standing in front of the picture, pointing up at it, as if it were a person. And then she spins at the voice, guilt instantly showing, before she reaches up, grabbing the clipboard and slamming it face down on the desk. "Hi Sebastien!" She turns back then, grinning at him, her step a hop and a skip as she reaches him, offering him a large enthuased hug. "You are very formal today." She observes, not answering his question. She grabs up a remote, turning the volume of the music down to a dull roar. "Sebastien, do you know anything about the D-Bee population of Kingsdale?"
The young Sebastien's eyes glint as he sees that clipboard. Or is he just happy to see her? As she bounds up and pounces atop him, the francophone easily wraps strong arms about Maya's lower back, gathering the small darkling up to spin her about and plant her gently back-first into a nearby wall, elevated *just* enough that her legs don't touch the floor. Happy to see her? Definitely. "I should be less formal?" he wonders, dodging her question as well. He grins then, that smile tilting his broken face dangerously as he adds, "Some days I think you are an alien. Does that count?"
She laughs as she is spun around, her grin widening, as she wraps her legs around his waist, tilting her head back to look up at him. "You should. Maya. Say my name." His grin widens hers and Maya shakes her head, "No, I mean, the real D-Bees? Do you know how many there are? What types? What do they do if they come here? Do we know?" The questions are tumbling off her tongue, and she rests her hands on his shoulders, for balance, her cheeks flushed with ...something.
"Say your name mademoiselle?" Sebastien asks, just grinning back at her. "And what is it I get if I do?" He looks over her head a moment, thinking. "Perhaps one quarter, one in three, something like this? They are predominantly elf and dwarf, with a mix of other species in lesser amounts. Most look for work. They have society, as do we. In the anthropological sense they are generally not so alien after all. Biologically, well. Let us say it is a a good thing they are different enough that our parasites, germs, and viruses seldom intermingle." From the feel of him, he's not tiring. He could hold her there for quite some time. Though a faint pressure, a little poke from below, might say he'd regret it!
Maya's mind is not on his body though, it is on the body of the hundreds of D-Bees in the city. Her hazel eyes narrow on his face as he lists them. "It is only their bodies I want. I think we need a census, to find out all the types we have that might come in here, in order to be able to properly treat them." The first question finally penetrates and she stops babbling, returning to the real world. "What would you want?" Her mouth curves into a grin, her eyes filling with mischief, only a tiny flicker towards the desk.
Sebastien utters briefly, "After the Coalition, I think convincing them to such a thing would be ah, difficult mademoiselle." His answer is dismissive, but then again, the head above his shoulders isn't firing on all cylinders. His hips shift a little, adjusting where he rests against that wall, his hips gaining just a little more purchase as he leans in to ask, "If you reveal the locations where tiger balm was used other than on your neck, I will address you by name, mademoiselle." He winks at the woman, clearly more interested in the second topic than the first. Where's a handful of icecubes when you need them?
Maya's grin fades, a small frown puckering her forehead, her lips tightening. "I get your point." She comments softly, biting her lower lip thoughtfully. "I need to talk to the Director about it, I think, and get him to ..." She trails off, the second question drawing her gaze back to him, her mouth curving into a grin. "Is that all? I thought you were after much much more..." Her eyes widen just a touch, a hint of mischief in her face before she murmurs her reply, "My temples. Both of them." The widened eyes aim at a look of innocence.
Sebastien stares into her eyes, laughing softly. "Ah, but that, my dear Maya, I think we will explore at some point. Though a little voice in my head says I should worry for the terms?" He grins at her, nose dipping briefly to draw in the smell of her, seeking the telltale whiff of the balm. Then leaning forward, slowly, he darts in to lick at the woman's nose! A big, rough, broad-tongued affair before he pulls away, using what startled head-start he may have gained to dash for that clip board! Legs pumping and hands grasping, curiosity ruling the day.
Maya returns the stare, widening her eyes, mock innocence showing in her face. "Are you implying I cheated? I answered the question..." There is a whiff of the balm, a small hint of it, but it could be coming from her temple. The nose licking brings a startled yelp from her, and she jerks her head back, the surprise letting him get away before her. A moment's lead before she realises what he is at and she dives after him, throwing herself onto his back in an attempt to stop him getting it.
The young knight's not agile in this rough environment, but he's damn nimble in comparison to the dance-floor-bouncing-scientist. Two steps, a leap onto her chair, which begins to skid out of the way, and his plunge towards the carpeted earth includes a mid-air snatch of the clip board before he disappears under her desk. There's a quiet thump, his legs bunching a bit as they stick out, and a few long moments of science before a few bars of a song are horridly sung; "The only boy who could ever teach me ... Was the son of a preacher man, yes he was. He waaaas..."
The scientist isn't that agile here, tumbling down to the floor as she misses her leap onto his back, a crash as she takes down with her a tray of instruments. "That's mine! It isn't your business!" Her cheeks flush as she scrambles up from the floor, ignoring the cutlery around her as she moves over, standing next to her desk, hands on her hips. "Give it here! It isn't that, I was practicing." Her cheeks are flushed though and she bends, glowering at him. "Oh shut up!" She reaches out to grab the clipboard.
A heavy 'THUMP THUMP THUMP!' comes from outside, and a twenty year old Vigilantee in scarred Bushman armor stares in through the window, pulse rifle cradled in his arms. His neck cranes, staring through the window to get as good a look of the interior as possible, calling in a loud voice, "You alright Miz Pearson? You want I should come in there? No trouble, eh?" He looks eager to please, his finger already having wandered inside the trigger guard. Maybe his safety's on. Probably not. Sebastien slowly rolls his knees up to his chest, hiding there under the desk.
Maya stands frozen for a moment, torn between her outrage at Sebastien's perfidy and a desire not to have anyone finding a man beneath her desk. "I tripped. Nothing to worry about." She glances down, briefly checking that none of the Sebastien is sticking out before she moves across towards the door, peeking her head out of it, giving him a broad grin. "Clumsy of me." Then she shuts the door, flipping her blinds shut, before she hisses across to him. "Get out from there, and give that to me!"
The Vigilantee stares back down at Maya, craning his neck around her. "You sure nothing's wrong?" he asks, chest puffing. He gets to be a hero! Save the princess! His princess may be in another castle. Thus, with the burly armed guard spirited away from sight, Sebastien begins creeping out from his hiding place. "You sure?" he wonders quietly. "You're probably making him suspicious. Perhaps you should open the blinds and come work for a bit until he loses interest?" Sebastien grins up unhelpfully.
"I'm sure." She folds her arms over her chest, standing square to the desk. "Get out here and give that to me!" The frown is back, although his grin does cause the corners of her mouth to twitch. She bends, reaching out to grab the clipboard, her bunches falling forward with that movement, "I was practicing. He has this look, and I get all ..." The explanation trails off into a mumble, and she shakes her head, reaching out for the board.
Sebastien slips the clipboard up, holding on to it as she grasps it to peer into her eyes for a moment, his gaze flickering left to right several times between her hazel orbs. He carries an infectious grin, set well, the sort of look that says nothing and promises everything. "I will say nothing on this matter to a certain someone," he breathes, grinning briefly. "But you *will* do one thing for me." He releases the clipboard, scooting out to cast a coy look back at Maya. Looking eager, amused, and most dangerously, playful.
Maya returns the stare, narrowing those hazel eyes at him, suspicious of this game. She crouches as he speaks, her lips pursing. Then she rises, turning away to slam the clipboard facedown on the desk before she folds her arms, turning around slowly to face him. "What?" She asks, taking a step forward towards him, her chin lifting as she looks up at him, suspicion in every line of her body. "What thing? I mean, it wouldn't matter if you told him, I'm sure he would understand if I explained but his stare is very strong and ..." She trails off.
"I'm sure he would," Sebastien replies evenly, that grin not going away. He reaches for that chair of hers, turning it under his hands so that the back is to him, and leans his weight on the rear wheels. His strong arms tense against the fabric, chin ducking, as he says, "One date. Not at the club. Your place would work. You will cook a meal, as elaborate or edible as you wish, I will supply wine, and after this meal our agreement will end and you may kick me out." He pauses, snapping his fingers as if a new thought had struck him. A sharp noise in the quiet room, shattering the stillness as he adds, "Oh, and ten minutes before I am scheduled to arrive, you will take some of this balm," he pantomimes two fingers dipping into a bowl, swirling about, "and apply it in a..." his voice trails off, those fingers dipping to run along the front of his scrubs. Highlighting the one part of him that never quite forgot why he came here in the first place. "Well. Another temple entirely." He flashes the woman another grin, giving the chair a little shake, as if to say, 'agree and you can be back to work.'
Maya's expression remains deeply suspicious, her eyes narrowed as he speaks, her mouth twisting as she listens. "You want a date with me?" She questions, clarifying slowly, and the final comment brings a rare blush to her cheeks. A silent stare, perhaps picked up from a certain director before she speaks, her analytic mind going to work on his comments. "And how precisely would you check that?" She is almost squinting at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Why would you want that anyhow, the date I mean, not the balm, I get why you might want to do that, but ..." She trails off.
"I trust you," Sebastien replies with a little grin. "Also," he adds, "If I think you are lying, I can always let the rest slip later, so an extra dollop to make me believe may be in your best interest." He winks, and waves a hand at the rest. "Saturday at seven AM, after shift," he advises, stepping back from the chair to creep up towards the door. Pulling down a blind, his gaze slips left, then right. "I will meet you here."
"You are mad." Maya informs him, shaking her head, a frown on her face. "I mean, not really lock you up and throw away the key mad, well, you might be, but I mean the ..." She hesitates, shaking her head again, lifting a hand to rub at her forehead. "That is early for a date, you sure you don't want to do it in the evening? I mean, I'm not working the night ..." Her fingers tap on the back of the clipboard, "I'm at Happy Days, meet me there."
The young knight just grins, flashing Maya a brilliant smile. He raises a calloused hand to his lips, kissing it, before blowing after the little darkling as he opens that door behind him. He goes rump-first into the hall, eyes on the little scientist until the door closes between them. If she listens very, very closely, she might catch a hint of a whistled 'Preacher man' as he wanders out towards home.
