☎ voicemail

[as_damaged]

❝You've reached Allison Cameron, please leave a message.❞

☎ voicemail ☎ text message ☞ action

[ooc: you know the drill, if you need her and there's no recent post &c &c. whatever. ♥♥♥]

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☞ paradise is close at hand in images of elsewhere

[worksmart.livejournal.com]

We're right by the clinic, people are used to strange noises.

[It's a reason that undoes itself immediately by drawing attention to the quiet. No ambient noise at all, not even traffic noise. Far from the buzz of a busy hospital, the room seems to hold the hush of somewhere far larger, the kind of place that would echo their own voices back if they raised them. Chase has felt this way in cathedrals before, but not the ground floor of Princeton-Plainsboro. He nods at her suggestion and in a few seconds he's trying the handle, which rattles uselessly in his hand. After a minute he sets his shoulder against the door and shoves that way. Not even the faintest yield.

He tries but doesn't hide the worry when he turns back across the office.]

Wherever we are, looks like we're staying.

☞ paradise is close at hand in images of elsewhere

[as_damaged]

Great.

[She might have intended to deliver that with flat frustration, but the note of concern in her voice overwhelms her irritation. If they can't get out, and they can't get back-- there's no view of the City behind them-- well, Cuddy's office is not where she wants to live out her last few days.]

Now what? [Frowning, she looks behind her, at the windows, and goes to try one. It looks perfectly normal (though deserted) beyond the glass; but of course it won't budge.]

☞ paradise is close at hand in images of elsewhere

[worksmart.livejournal.com]

[Beyond the door it seems to be dark, as though the hospital has shut up shop and gone home for the night, left everything sleeping. Chase tries the handle again, putting the weight of his forearm against it and dropping, but all he ends up with is the possibility of a bruise later. There are already dressings under his shirt -- those fibreglass dragons don't mess about.

Exasperation slams his back up against the door next, rattling but not budging it. Damning his luck, damning himself for inflicting it on someone else. Again.]

Assuming I'm getting the hint, we wait. Maybe that's what this is, the waiting room. There has to be something more than just this.

☞ paradise is close at hand in images of elsewhere

[as_damaged]

Does there?

[She turns, annoyance a little more evident this time. She's madder at herself than she is at him, for agreeing to this. The City is never this simple; she knows better than to trust it. At least, she ought to.]

☞ paradise is close at hand in images of elsewhere

[worksmart.livejournal.com]

All that to lock us in a room? Considering we've all got apartments, you don't think it might be overkill?

[He's ready for the annoyance, so used to it it could be reassuring. Better she's pissed than afraid.]

No. There's got to be more.

☞ paradise is close at hand in images of elsewhere

[as_damaged]

You want there to be more.

[She lifts her chin, more contrary then pessimistic, really.]