(2015-09-14) Sneaking Out of First-Aid
Sneaking Out of First-Aid
Summary: Well not sneaking persay, but I'm sure if they had gotten caught there would be many frowny faces.
Date: 9.14.2015
Related: None
Players:
patrick..pied-piper..quinton..

First-Aid Building
This is the first stop for the ill and injured. Hopefully it won't the the last. The first large room is dvided in half by a long counter. One one side is the waiting area, while the other is where all the action happens. This place wasn't designed to deal with serious trauma so the newest occupants have had to make do. There are no exam tables, just cots and chairs for patients. The cabinets that line the wall are at least full of necessary medical things. There is a few smaller rooms, including a bathroom and a bedroom for the medic on duty. There is a certain antispetic smell that lingers in the air.


Quinton's still alive, despite the universes best efforts. This morning he's finally sitting upright, a small stack of books next to him. Soemone has managed to help him into pajama bottoms and fresh t-shirt, thankfully. Sleeping in jeans can be rather uncomfortable. His blonde hair is a mess though, and he's not really doing much but staring off at a sun beam.

It's a bit like deja-vu, at least for Piper. She's doing all the same things she did when Quinton had his last stay in First-Aid, sleeping, singing, making sure he eats. The usual drill. There are more get well drawings from the children tacked to the wall. She left for a bit and is no returning with breakfast, eggs, homefries and apple cider. Seeing that the patient is awak now she gives him a smile and proceeds to bring him tray "Morning." she greets. "Hungry?" a whole four syllables, she's okay today.

Quinton's ….not so ok today. He blinks slowly, bringing his eyes to the approaching woman. He inhales, like he's going to say something , but the words just don't seem to want to co-operate. or maybe it's that fact his head is pounding. Who knows, Quin certainly doesn't at the moment. So instead he nods, shifting forward to sit up straighter. He points at the food and then at Piper, silently asking something.

Patrick isn't about to chase the newly met Piper into the building. Judging from the white-knuckled grip she'd had on the broomstick the other day, discretion is the better part of valor. A whistle, then, announces his arrival to the first aid building, and there's the light, jaunty step that comes with it. He pauses on the threshold, just as before, before he lets himself in. "G'morning, Piper," comes with a decided Irish lilt, and brown eyes move to Quinton now sitting up. "Our patient is up, then?"

Is inability to form words has Piper looking worried, but she isn't all that surprised by it. The message he conveys is interpreted as him asking if she has eaten or close to that. To which she shakes her head, once she gets closer though to set the tray on the bedside table it is clear why. There are two plates on the tray. She isn't going to make him eat alone. "Meds?" she asks noting the small signs of pain on his face. Before he can answer she is going to fetch some pain killers from the cabinet, noting the whistle and arrival of the priest. There is a glance between the two men and she nods to the new arrival, not that it is necessary.

The food is glared at, he's not hungry at all, but somewhere in his mind he knows it's important so he just sighs, relenting. He starts to point to the cabinet, but Piper's already on her way there. Patrick's entrance though cause then poet to frown, sitting up as much as he can. He's not been out of it that long, has he? New faces appearing like this, when he has a head injury makes him nervous. And that much is pretty apparent on his face when he glances back to Piper.

Piper has spent enough time in first aid, between Quin's stays and her own, to learn where everything is kept. She scans the bottle quickly, getting the minimum dosage and brings the pills over, noting the nervous look from the poet. As she pours some cider and hands that over as well she glances at the priest. She isn't anymore nervous than she would be if it were Sam or Terry or Sonny. Twitchy and she'll keep some distance, but not freaking out. She touches Quin's arm to draw his attention to her and crosses herself and then points to Patrick. An explanation perhaps. She then places a comforting hand on his arm.

A priest? Quin wonders briefly if he's dying and they snuck a priest in to give him last rites. Taking the pills from Piper, he frowns at the amount, but won't complain. Instead Patrick gets a small nod of greeting before the poet takes the pills , wincing as he tilts his head back to swallow.

All those glances, and Patrick doesn't seem fazed by it in the least. "Met Piper the other day," he begins. "Y'were gettin' a much needed rest, from all's seen." He's got his backpack with him, and setting it down, begins the approach with a lopsided smile. "I'm Father Patrick, an' I'm here on the off chance y'were awake." He twists around to look at Piper and he adds, "If help was needed sweeping up."

The pregnant woman settles onto her stool next to the cot. Her hand stays on place, though her eyes are dividing their attention between the two. First a pleased smile when Quin takes the meds without argument. He must really be in pain. When Patrick explains her eyes dart back to him and she nods to what says about them meeting earlier and the introduction. The mention of sweeping has her eyes dropping to the floor, nope still clean enough at the moment, no sweeping today.

Sweeping? Quin's pale eyes dart to Piper again in some confusion before he looks back and softly answers, "Quinton…I'm…Quinton."He doesn't sound on death's door, but does sound pained. "….new?" He'll settle back against the wall, wanting to be able to lean against, but first pats Piper's hand in thanks.

Patrick looks at the pair on the bed and he foregoes the handshake part of the introductions, "Y'got a bump, so's I heard. Put a word in for y', just in case." The priest nods and finds a spot to perch, dropping his pack at his feet. "Aye, I am. Found Hope a couple of days ago." Play on words! His gaze wanders to encompass 'everything', and he asks, "How long have y'all been here?"

Piper cants her head as she listens to the introduction on the poet's part and then to the priest. She acknowledges what he has said with a nod of her head, but since the question isn't yes or no one it is difficult for her to answer. She does hold up four fingers, though she can't really say if that is weeks or months. Though truthfully it's only been about 3 1/5 months but it's easier to sign if she rounds up.

Quinton raises an eyebrow at the idea he was prayed for it's hard tot ell if he looks skeptical or amused. All 5 fingers of one hand are held up, he's been here longer than Piper. Longer than most, actually. it's probably why he's still alive, actually. Both ands raise to rub at his face, he's starting to get scruffy again.

Patrick nods, acknowledging first the 4 fingers, then the 5. "I've had a chance t'take a look 'round. It's a fair place, an' one that's well named."

Patrick exhales in a light breath, and begins again. "The more I look 'round, the more everything needs doin'. So, I'm askin'.. where best could a set of willing hands go for now?"

One hand goes to rest on the bulge of baby belly, the other hasn't moved from it's place on the poet's arm. Piper glances at Quinton, hoping that the meds will kick in soon, to ease his aching head. The hand on her belly lifts and she makes a gesture from chin down, indicating a beard. It's her sign for Sonny and she nods in agreement with the choice of name the place was given. A thoughtful hmming noise is made as his question though. She has ideas and suggestions of course, but can't voice them, so mimes a hammering motion. There are lots of building projects in the works.

oh…has the good father gone to the wrong person for that question. At least in Quin. He's usually busy outside of camp Hope…usually. He watches all of Piper's motions and then says, "I…think…a wall.." there was talk of a wall, "And Winter…is coming…" (lol…if only it was WhiteWalkers they had to worry about) He shifts, rubbing his back against the wall, like he has an itch. "…Buildings…food…" That's probably not very helpful.

It's not lost on Patrick the unspoken protection Piper's got, or maybe it's she that is seeking that protection from Quinton. He is the odd man out, after all. It's easy to see, no rings on their hands. One arrived before the other, and Piper looks a little more advanced than just 3.5 months.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, truth be told. Easy to be told at the top at what's needed, but sometimes those in the doin' have their own opinions on the matter." Not that Sonny isn't working, too! "So, thought I'd ask."

Patrick rises from his perch and leans to get his pack. "I'll be holdin' Mass soon, and haven't decided if it'll be Saturday or Sunday. Hope to see y'both there, if I don't see you beforehand. If you need anything or want, don't hesitate t'come see me. I have a tent, though I will admit that it takes me a bit to find it each time."

Piper touches her nose and gestures to Quin as he makes his own suggestions. Probably indicating that he's ideas have merit as well. There is always something that needs work in camp, if not the buildings, the gardens or the food supplies. The people are in just as much need of work, in a more mental and spiritual manner. His mention of starting services has the woman giving a bit of a smile. She has never shown much in the way of religious beliefs, but that could just be lack of opportunity…or she just needs to believe in something greater than herself. The whole 'there is no such thing as an atheists in a foxhole" mentality. When he gets up and leaves she gives him a nod and a bit of a departing wave.

Quinton doesn't seem as impressed at Piper is at the mention of church. In fact he almost seems agitated by it. His eyes drop and he shifts away from Piper's hand, not even bothering to wave good bye to the priest. Instead he's moving to the edge of the bed, working his way to stand up.

The priest is watched as he leaves the first aid building. Once he is out, Piper's attention returns to Quinton and is agitated attempt at getting up. A gasping noise is made and she quickly gets up to waddle around the cot and actually will offer to help him get to his feet instead of trying to get him back down "What's wrong?" she asks worriedly, the brief appearance of the priest seems to have only temporarily taken away her ability to speak. That's just how her brand of mutism works.

Quinton seems to be a grumpy pants today. his head shakes and he reaches for the wall instead of Piper, "Sitting…" The word seems to be leave a bad taste in the poet's mouth.

The behaviour and change of attitude has Piper confused and certainly looking at him in such a manner. Her hands drop to her sides when he moves away from her to pull himself up with the wall. "Sorry?" a question, she isn't apologizing, at least not for something she has done, unless is it not understanding what has happened. Which she doesn't.

Quinton shakes his head, but then closes his eyes and holds onto the wall while he tries to get used to the new standing position. "..No…I….I just need…not sit…" After a few heart beast he gives a soft humorless chuckle, "…head, go all things…."

She looks at him dubiously. She feels if that were the truth he would have accepted her help so clearly he is lying. Or so she beleives whether he actually is or not. Piper takes a few steps backwards, her usual relaxed and non-twitchiness she has with the poet evaporates. She does nod, putting on a poor guise of beleif at the man's words.

Quinton doesn't see th look, but does feel her step away. He's able to not sway if he's holding onto the wall. Pale green eyes lock onto the pregnant woman and he frowns lightly, unsure what's wrong, "…He….ok?" They go from her to the door, trying to ask something.

The good thing is she doesn’t but on stoic face, which could just as easily be a bad thing. With the first it is usually clear something is wrong, without it it is clear she is vacillating between worry, frustration and a bit of sadness thrown in just to round things out. It's mostly the first though. Her own gaze follows his and it only takes her a few brief moments to figure out what is being asked. The question can only be met with a shrug, she only met him yesterday "So far?" she manages to get out. Words that came easy before, are not so easy now. "Only spoke once." she gestures around to indicate the building "Here."

Quinton's a dumb, dumb dude, and has no idea what's wrong with the woman, besides maybe she's having a pregnant moment. he's been told they can be quite scary. So he nods slowly, "…kay." Not that he's in any condition to do anything if the priest wasn't ok. Even if he wasn't loopy from his head. he shifts to put his back against the wall and lean. He licks his lips, they're dry, "..You ok?"

Well Piper was okay until she got hit with a mild rebuff of rejection. Now the uber-senstitive woman (will graciously admit it), isn't so okay. But when is she /ever/ really okay. Never. She gives her standard hand wobble in response "Head hurt?" she isn't sure if the meds have kicked in yet, but he's standing, so maybe. She takes the wetting of lips as a signal and moves to pour him more cider, bringing him the mug. "Walk?" is she asking if he can or if he wants to?

Quinton's bangs flop gently as he nod, his head is still hurting. But it feels good to be upright, and on his own feet. The window, and the sunlight outside is looked at before he nods, "…yes.." He's taking it for an offer and will hesitantly let go of the wall and takes a few steps to her and the cider. "…Hate this.."

With the mug in one hand she begins to bring the other up, to possibly try to catch him if he sways or looses his balance. His first few steps though don't seem overly wobbly though, which gets a bit of a grin from her. Piper doesn't immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion at his words, but mulls them over for context. He either means the cider or his condition. She chooses the later, since he didn't seem to have a problem with the cider a few minutes ago. "It sucks." she agrees "Drink first?" she is giving him the option at least. If he doesn't take it she will set it down and accompany him outside. She isn't going to make the mistake of offering help again, though if he starts to go down she will step in and force it.

Quinton will take the cider and sip it, only swaying slightly. "..thanks…" Anotehr sip before he hands it back. A deep breath and the poet moves to the door. "Nice…out." fall weather. Even just moving the little bit seems to be doing him good.

Piper falls into step beside him, torn between helping him and letting him walk on his own. She of course does the later. When he pauses at the door she nods at him and points out the trees that are starting to take on the fall colors "Becca and Abbie collects leaves." she gestures back to the drawings on the wall. There are a few leave rubbings amoung them, "Kayla did…" there is a pause as she tries to finish the sentence "lesson." she points to the trees again.

A small smile tugs at his lips, not only at the leaves, but the news that Kayla's lessons stuck. "…good with kids…" there's a touch of sadness in that though, she should have a full classroom, not ragtag with no books. He needs to go get her books. A sigh, that can't be helped now, and Quin will push out the door way into the cooler autumn air. It's not quite cold enough to need a sweater, but it makes him smile. When he's out, he can totally wear one now.

Following Quinton out, Piper looks around, fully expecting to have either the Doctor, Mama Bea or someone else even to descend on them and yell at her for allowing Quinton to get out bed /and/ leave the first aid building. When no one appears to do that there is a bit of a relieved sigh. Being lambasted for allowing the man to get some fresh air is the last thing she wants. "Yes." she agrees "They like her…mostly." it's not that the kids don't like her, just what she represents, school and the lack of freedom that the children experienced freely until her arrival. Even though she is barefoot and wearing only a tank top and long shorts, the cooler weather doesn't seem to bother her, yet. She begins to head down the path that leads to the river. Less chance of them being stopped and sent back to first aid that direction. She glances at him noting the change just getting out has made "You needed this." why is it some people thing that keeping a person bed ridden and captive in a room is good for them. Even if she gets chided later, it's worth it.

Quinton chuckles, picking up on the friendly jab. Teachers are universally hated…and loved. "She's…it's…good." yes, good. Happy things are much better to focus on, and Quin will let Piper lead him away from the FA building. He doesn't want to get yelled at either. The leaves and beginning of the hang of the seasons seems to have his attention, his right hand twitches like he wishes he had something in it. Before he realizes, he's mumbling something, "That time of year thou mayst in me behold, When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang. Upon those boughs which shake against the cold…." He then stops, jaw moving but he's blanked on the rest, which makes him frown.

The pregnant woman stays at whatever pace Quinton sets, she's used to walking slow and sees no reason to hurry things up. Piper only nods in agreement at his words, finding her own unnecessary when his sums it up quite adequately. The beginning of the poem has her glancing at him. The cadence is familiar, but she couldn't say with any authority who wrote it, but she could probably guess correctly within a few tries. At the frown she makes no comment, but she finally breaks down and reaches out to take his head as they continue down the path.

It's the great bard, even if one doesn't know it, they know. that's how greatness works. A huff, frustrated at himself he'll turn to look down at the woman and offers her a forced smile. He hates his brain so much some days. "New….guy…knows…." he motions a hand towards himself and then shakes his head, "..bad…it's….bad for me…."

Piper looks at Quinton with a bit of confusion. She wonders what the new guy has to do with anything and why she should particularly care what he does and doesn't know. "Does he?" she doesn't seem as sure of that as he does, but then again she doesn't completely understand that bit. The other part she understands much more. To deny the words would be condescending; to agree, mean and possibly unsupportive, "Tomorrow." she says hopefully as she squeezes his hand. She goes for hope that tomorrow will be better for him.

Quinton just sighs, he's too…out of it to correct her. That's not even the right new guy, he realizes. Instead he reaches his free hand up to rub the back of his neck, looking back to the trees. If they're able to, he'll try to get her to go towards his tent…he wants a sweater.

Piper guides a wide berth around the campsite area, gently pulling Quinton off the path and into the woods proper as they head to the river. Besides that bit of course alteration she pretty much lets him guide their way. And she is quite content to do so in comfortable silence or with their equally broken method of conversation. She does notice eventually where they are heading, but it's a bit to late to stop now, so goes with it. And while he is fetching a sweater from his tent, she will patiently wait and figure out how she is going to sneak him back without getting them into trouble.

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