[She can hear just how distressed he is. It's kinda obvious. But she doesn't comment on it or make an insensitive joke. Wendy knows how to be decent sometimes, you know. She's so curious what his other symptoms are... She'll get a better idea once he's in front of her.]
Hey Alan? Listen to me, okay? [She's being so patient. Speaking clearly. Really trying to get him to focus.] Go to the end of whatever hallway you're in and read the directory that's posted there. Can you do that for me? Tell me what you see or just - snap a photo and send it. Then I can come get you. Promise.
[She's already in the process of locking up whatever concoction she'd thrown together to help him out. That can't be left out sitting on a counter when she leaves. Nope, absolutely not.]
[ How long was it this time? Days? Weeks? Only an hour? Time isn't something I can keep track of. I can only keep track of the heartbeat in my ear. My footsteps. The way the room tilts and wanes while vertigo sends me spiraling- ]
What? [ Maybe texting actually was easier. He can make sense with words. ] End of the hallway... [ PAUSE. A frustrated huff ] How the hell does the camera work on this thing now? It's somewhere in Archives. Records B by the janitor's closet and the corpse.
You hit the little camera icon. [Duh.] Switch it to video on that screen if you want.
[The supply closet is shut and locked. She doesn't have him on speaker - she's just balancing the phone between her ear and her shoulder.
He's huffing and puffing and she lets him work through it, pocketing her key card in her lab coat and heading out of the lab proper.]
How'd you end up all the way over by Records B? [She chuckles a little, but once his actual words register with her she's freezing in place.] What do you mean... corpse? Alan, what do you see?
It's a new phone. [ Sure, Alan. He's playing with it. She sort of ends up on speaker so he can do this even easier. Eventually he gets it - the video going so she gets a view of directory, a little tilted because he's not looking at the phone proper to do it. He's trailing a finger along it with his free hand to try and figure out which route he followed to even get down here. Then pauses and wipes blood he smeared on there with his said finger off with his sleeve. Oh. He just smudged it. Wipe wipe wipe. Squeak squeak. Oh god. Now it's a mess. He goes at it more aggressively in a panic. The light flickers. He stops. ]
I don't remember. [ Throat clear. The video gets switched off. Click click. ] Not the janitor. [ Can't really tell who that is on the floor, actually. ] I already called that in. Someone was supposed to come.
[Wendy doesn't see anything - just the directory, the wall, some of the hallway. Looks perfectly normal to her. But she understands he's under extreme duress at the moment, so...]
There was another one? You called it in...? [Usually casualties within the facility are reported and easily accessible for reference. Or at least - she knows where to find the details.] How long ago was that, Alan?
[The video call is ended and she's slightly perturbed. But as long as she keeps him talking it should be okay. He needs to calm down too.]
I'm coming to get you, okay? Stay put. Don't wander too far. [Still keeping him on the phone, hustling as much as she can without drawing too much attention to herself. She knows exactly where he is - shouldn't take too long to track him down.]
I don’t know. This might be one person. It’s hard to tell. What time is it? [ He’s checking the phone for the timestamp of his call. There’s a pause then very quietly whispered: ] I lost hours. [ He trails off. His breath hitches faster.
The timestamp means he called too long ago for no response. The uniform on the body. Oh. This was the guy responding to the report on the floor. Fuck. ]
I know how to get back from here, actually! I can just go back to my office and stay there. You don’t have to come. It might not be safe.
Hours? Are you sure? [And her steps are definitely quickening. No time for elevators. Wendy takes the stairs.
She asks questions to keep Alan talking, to hopefully keep him right where he is. She highly doubts there's a corpse. Her nosey self would've found out about it already, reported or not.]
I'm... I'm not sure, actually. [ What time was he comparing that to? When did he last look at the clock? Was that AM or PM? He doesn't have a clock in the office. He doesn't have a watch. He checks the phone again and the messages he thought were there aren't there. The call history is blank. Did they get deleted? Who did that? Did he do that? Where's the phone from in the first place? ] I'm going to have to call you back.
[ He hangs up and leans against the wall, taking a deep breath. Looking around the hallway. No. Wait. Where'd the body go? Why was he by the janitor's closet at records? He slips off the wall and opens the door. He picks up a piece of paper and reads it. It says, "He slips off the wall and opens the door. He picks up a piece of paper and reads it. It says, "He slips off the wall and opens the door. He picks up a piece of paper and reads it. It says,
The supplies are haphazardly shoved on the floor after use. The mop has bloody fingerprints on it. Alan blinks and they're wiped away. The sink drips. Everything washed away. Nothing washed away. The picture painted becomes clearer. The picture painted becomes blurrier. There is no picture. There is no corpse.
Time for the backup one she supposes. Which... is... running. Yeah Wendy's running. Trying to dial him back along the way. He probably won't pick up, but it's worth a try or two.
Records B, Records B - she is on a mission. The compound is rather quiet - most have already gone home for the day. So she doesn't have to push past coworkers and make up excuses later for whatever the fuck it is she's doing. Just like she's super nosey, everyone else around here is too. They don't need to know her business, not at all.
It takes her a bit but she finally reaches the hallway she thinks Alan is in. Hopefully he's still there. She comes to an abrupt stop, nearly skidding on the floor in her flats, but grabs at the corner to stop herself from wiping out.]
[ The amount of time between when he hung up and when she gets there is unknown to him. It's hard to focus on anything outside of the pounding. Like hail on a roof, denting it beyond repair. Her fast running footsteps echo behind him and he hears her coming, distantly, past it all but it wasn't enough to make him stop staring at the page in his hand.
Until the footprints stop. And she speaks. Alice? No no no- that's wrong. He flinches and turns his head in her direction, crumbling the page up in a surprised tension. He blinks a few times, eyes darting then focusing on her with a deep frown. Is he here? What a loaded question. ]
Yes. Right here. [ She provides context clues. How she's gripping the wall. She's out of breath. Not too much time then. Good. Meanwhile, he's disheveled. Disoriented. Displaced. There's a cut on his head trickling blood. "Ah," everyone will think. "He must've hit it pretty hard just now. That explains all that." It drips in his eye and he reaches to wipe it away while saying: ] I'm okay. ...Did you run?
[Wendy shakes her head, a tinge of color to her cheeks and her ponytail loose. It's obvious she was rushing down here.]
Yeah I was kinda worried when you hung up on me. So I ran the rest of the way.
[The swipe at his head doesn't get past her, and she invites herself into his personal space, gently putting a hand to his and moving it out of the way to get a better look at the spot he's touching. She doesn't see any blood, but that doesn't mean there isn't a problem here. He's distressed, disoriented. Better to be safe than sorry.]
Did something happen? You hurt yourself? Let me look. [She's good at first aid.]
So you ran... [ He echos it back, quietly. Alan's catching up his brain to the world around him, still visibly coming down from a panic induced state. The words are just sinking in. He makes a face- or another face. He's already confused looking. But the brows knitted even further. ] Two flights? [ His head lifts slightly, eyes going up to the ceiling, as if he can see the floors above him. He just ends up squinting at the lights above and turning his head away from it with an irritation.
And meets her eye to eye. She got incredibly close. His hand twitches once at the touch. The gentleness of it throwing him off completely. The hand moved slides into a position to hold at the edge of her sleeve while leaning on her wrist. His other one moved in there, balled up around paper but hovering like he's barely preventing himself from just holding on to her entire arm in touch-starved desperation. Eyes just scanning her face with concern while his head tips to give her a better angle and make up for the height difference. Okay Doctor Lin, do your thing. ]
Did I? Is it bad? [ It's a doozy of a cut there. It'll bruise. Way to go. ] You have an MD in there too?
Yeah. [She nods, ponytail bobbing.] Give or take a few steps.
[Most wouldn't think it about her, but Wendy Lin is capable of gentleness and treating things (and people) with care. She isn't the total ice queen they gossip about in the halls and break areas. Not at all. Sometimes she lets the facade slip - like right now.]
You're okay - I got you. [No need for tiptoe - Wendy's a pretty tall woman. She can check his eyes fairly easy, and she murmurs a quiet thanks when he tilts his head down for her. She squints a bit.] Your pupils are still a bit blown out. How's your heart rate doing? Calming down any?
[She'll check it herself in a moment. Too busy trying to look for a head wound or something remotely similar.]
Don't see anything. [She shakes her head.] Does it feel like you hurt yourself? Where exactly? Can you show me?
[There she goes. Asking too many questions. But his catches her off guard and she tries not to laugh. The bashfulness is evident though.]
Nah, not me. I know plenty of the basics. Just hoping we won't have to bring you to the infirmary. Their bedside manner is terrible down there.
[ His eyes follow her hair. ] Two at a time? [ She must've barrelled down them. He'd feel bad about it, if what he was seeing was real (wasn't it?) but instead he's just grateful for it. That someone's here to be a little grounding. Snap him back to reality.
He tries to move with her. She's got him. She's obviously looking at his eyes so he tries to look back at her while she is, focus. A soft 'mmhm' in acknowledgment to the murmur. He retracts back his hands and puts them against his own chest. Heart rate? ] Getting better, I think.
You don't? [ The confusion is evident though. Her head shakes and he places a hand over his own feeling along it and trying to locate the source of the throbbing within it. Yeah. The cut. Sticky with blood. He pulls his hand back and looks at it to be sure. ] There's a cut. [ He moves to take her hand and place it towards the spot, not touching it but so she can look. The other still on his chest. Maybe he spot too soon about that rate getting better. ] Over here.
[ Questions weren't being counted. An eyebrow raises with a slight smirk on his mouth. He shrugs. ]
Yeah, I know. They like to use medical terms like "you're crazy" "walk it off" and "the poison will probably wear off."
Mm, maybe? I wasn't keeping track. [Wendy answers his questions with ones of her own, head slowly tilting to one side then the other. Observing him while attempting to keep him engaged and focused on anything else that isn't whatever's going on inside his head.]
I don't, no. [She shakes her head, the gesture abruptly cut short by his hand touching hers. She lets him place it wherever he needs her to check. It's fine, despite her initial hesitation.] Can you tell me more about what happened?
[He's a mess, sure. But there's no blood. Not even a paper cut. This might be entirely psychosomatic.
She frowns.] Poison? Who would want to poison you? [It's definitely not her. She would never. She has no reason to.] That's just rude. [Another frown, this one much deeper.] I don't think you're crazy. We have stressful jobs. Shit happens.
Are you sure? [ Of course she's sure. Why would she lie to him? This just gets an obvious frantic sort of panic back on his face. An intense confusion. He touches his head then looks at his hand, expecting to see something. Nothing. It was just there. He swore. He takes hers again to move it away from the spot, trying to think his way out of this.
Why would he be seeing...? He looks up, willing himself not to look anything other than calm. A deep breath. It doesn't work. He stares off to the side. Well, he's not going to tell her he was fucking hallucinating that's for sure. He's holding her hand on her, without really realizing it. A slight tremble to it. ] I don't know what happened. I thought I hit my head. Did I talk to you today? Before the text?
[ His eyes cut back to her. ] People that don't like what I write. [ Alan's head shakes. He goes to look at the paper in his hand and realizes one of his is holding Wendy's still. He pulls back and mutters an apology. ] Y-Yeah. Shit happens. Maybe I had a bad trip. [ You know, not the horrific alternative that his body got hijacked and he killed a member of the staff and the cleanup was so grand he doesn't even have a cut anymore. That'd be crazy. ]
Sure I'm sure. [Slightly alarmed when he grabs her hand again, but quick to calm herself and just - let him go through whatever this hallucinatory state is doing to him. It's easy to piece together with all the evidence, the things he's told her, his behavior-- Wendy's all too familiar with this sort of thing. Just take a look at her test lab.]
I don't believe so? I can double-check to be certain but it's been a pretty busy day for me. Wasn't on my phone a lot. [Could also be interpreted as: Didn't make enough time to slack off like she usually does.]
A bad trip? [Wendy withdraws her hand, ends up crossing her arms over her chest.] I won't blab or anything - but what sort of recreational activities have you been up to? Will help me figure out what I can and can't give you to feel better.
[The last thing she needs is to accidentally kill him. She needs all the info she can get here.
His paranoia re: his self-proclaimed anti-fans has been noted. She's going to store that away for later.]
[ He nods, slowly. Swallowing a lump in his throat. The dread of the person in front of you not believing anything he's saying. The dread of thinking they have every right not to. ] If you could-? That would be good. Just to have a timeline.
[ The hand withdraws and Alan touches the side of his face with his, sighing and shaking his head. Great. Now she's judging him. ] I don't know. [ Is that a lie? He has no idea. Like, he has a pocket of coke but that's probably not the issue here. He pauses. Sighs. Retracts his hand and rubs under his nose with a finger. ] People are with me when I do things, drinking aside. I'm not stupid enough to do it alone. [ He covers his eyes with his hand, trying to intentionally control his breathing now. Calm. Calm. ] I'm just guessing because the alternative is I'm crazy. Which I'm not. [ Up for debate. ]
[It's not that Wendy doesn't believe him, it's more like she's seen this symptoms countless times before in test subjects and sacrifices alike. So she's viewing all this with a heaping scoop of skepticism. She's a scientist. It's what she does.]
Can't say you don't know. I won't be able to give you anything if you don't give me an idea of what could be in your system right now. [A slight chuckle, maybe a bit nervous-sounding?] You really don't want me going with a random guess.
[She shakes her head.] I don't think you're crazy. I think this is just a response to something I haven't identified yet. [A pause.] Do you wanna walk? We can walk. [And she gestures towards back from where she came, her other hand gently touching his arm.]
[ Alan scratches the side of his face, biting his tongue between his teeth with his eyes unfocused while he tries to think of an answer for her. What did he have? His list is slowly stated with a reluctant hint to actually giving it. Listing it all out? This sounds fucking awful. It's probably not in order. He's struggling to remember it clearly. ] The last 24 hours I had uh... Alcohol. A sleeping pill. Three shots. More pills. Couldn't sleep still then had a cup of coffee. A doughnut. A piece of paper. An espresso. A juice box. Cup of coffee. Cold pizza. An eraser. Cup of coffee. A ham sandwich. Three crackers. A cigarette. A cookie. Cup of coffee. Cup of coffee. I ate all the cherries out of a jar at one point, I think. [ He doesn't look back at her. He waves the hand that was on his chin in a circle. ] Then it's all black.
[ He looks back at her, raising an eyebrow. ] You don't? [ Complete surprise. He scans her face for a lie in it and doesn't find one then relaxes his shoulders. A wave of calm. Considerable calm. ] Yeah. Lead the way. [ Alan leans into it, without leaning into her at all. He can keep walking straight, a testament to the calmness. ]
[With the lapses in memory he's exhibiting, Wendy doesn't expect Alan to rattle off... such... a list. From the sounds of it? He's had an incredibly normal twenty-four hours as far as consumption is concerned. If you don't count the eraser? He ate an eraser? She squints when he casually mentions it, but quickly moves past it.]
I don't. [She shakes her head.] I'm just gonna skim over the apparent eraser you ate today too. Pretend like you didn't tell me that. [She laughs a bit, the sound so light. Genuine.]
If it's just caffeine and cigarettes with a little bit of booze - you should be fine. [He's speaking to the Alcohol Champion of the World here.] Maybe you have an adverse reaction to certain stimulants? [A sudden thought hits her:] Oh, are you taking any medication?
[ He holds his hand up, a protesting gesture. ] Not, like, a whole one. It was at the end of a pencil. It was an accident! [ He averts his eyes, raising his shoulders in a shrug of embarrassment and mutters 'ok' about pretending he didn't mention it. There's a smile that goes with it, amused and feeling better.
At least he doesn't reek like cigarettes and booze. Coffee? Yes. And blood. Wait, what? ] I've never had those before, I don't think. [ Maybe his tolerance went out the window. The back of his head gets rubbed. ] Besides those sleeping pills I attempted that didn't do shit? No. No, I've never been prescribed anything. [ Should he be? Probably. ]
Right. Super important detail. Not a whole eraser... [Wendy's utterly amused, doing what she can to stifle her laughter. At least he's smiling too. That's a great development.
They're going to take the elevator back up to her neck of the woods. He shouldn't be climbing stairs in this state. She nudges Alan's arm to steer him away from the nearest stairway and put him in the direction of the elevator close by. She hits the call button for them, tapping her foot as they wait.]
What sort of sleeping pills? Melatonin, something harder? I'm taking notes - promise. Mental ones. [Her head tilts a bit, fingers ending up in her ponytail.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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They didn't. You're just in the middle of a total freakout. Want me to meet you halfway somewhere? Bring you back here?
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Uh- I- [ Where is he? ] Yeah. Yeah, that would be good. Thank you.
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Hey Alan? Listen to me, okay? [She's being so patient. Speaking clearly. Really trying to get him to focus.] Go to the end of whatever hallway you're in and read the directory that's posted there. Can you do that for me? Tell me what you see or just - snap a photo and send it. Then I can come get you. Promise.
[She's already in the process of locking up whatever concoction she'd thrown together to help him out. That can't be left out sitting on a counter when she leaves. Nope, absolutely not.]
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What? [ Maybe texting actually was easier. He can make sense with words. ] End of the hallway... [ PAUSE. A frustrated huff ] How the hell does the camera work on this thing now? It's somewhere in Archives. Records B by the janitor's closet and the corpse.
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[The supply closet is shut and locked. She doesn't have him on speaker - she's just balancing the phone between her ear and her shoulder.
He's huffing and puffing and she lets him work through it, pocketing her key card in her lab coat and heading out of the lab proper.]
How'd you end up all the way over by Records B? [She chuckles a little, but once his actual words register with her she's freezing in place.] What do you mean... corpse? Alan, what do you see?
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I don't remember. [ Throat clear. The video gets switched off. Click click. ] Not the janitor. [ Can't really tell who that is on the floor, actually. ] I already called that in. Someone was supposed to come.
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There was another one? You called it in...? [Usually casualties within the facility are reported and easily accessible for reference. Or at least - she knows where to find the details.] How long ago was that, Alan?
[The video call is ended and she's slightly perturbed. But as long as she keeps him talking it should be okay. He needs to calm down too.]
I'm coming to get you, okay? Stay put. Don't wander too far. [Still keeping him on the phone, hustling as much as she can without drawing too much attention to herself. She knows exactly where he is - shouldn't take too long to track him down.]
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The timestamp means he called too long ago for no response. The uniform on the body. Oh. This was the guy responding to the report on the floor. Fuck. ]
I know how to get back from here, actually! I can just go back to my office and stay there. You don’t have to come. It might not be safe.
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She asks questions to keep Alan talking, to hopefully keep him right where he is. She highly doubts there's a corpse. Her nosey self would've found out about it already, reported or not.]
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[ He hangs up and leans against the wall, taking a deep breath. Looking around the hallway. No. Wait. Where'd the body go? Why was he by the janitor's closet at records? He slips off the wall and opens the door. He picks up a piece of paper and reads it. It says, "He slips off the wall and opens the door. He picks up a piece of paper and reads it. It says, "He slips off the wall and opens the door. He picks up a piece of paper and reads it. It says,
The supplies are haphazardly shoved on the floor after use. The mop has bloody fingerprints on it. Alan blinks and they're wiped away. The sink drips. Everything washed away. Nothing washed away. The picture painted becomes clearer. The picture painted becomes blurrier. There is no picture. There is no corpse.
His head pounds. His heart pounds faster. ]
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[Shit. He's already gone. So much for that plan.
Time for the backup one she supposes. Which... is... running. Yeah Wendy's running. Trying to dial him back along the way. He probably won't pick up, but it's worth a try or two.
Records B, Records B - she is on a mission. The compound is rather quiet - most have already gone home for the day. So she doesn't have to push past coworkers and make up excuses later for whatever the fuck it is she's doing. Just like she's super nosey, everyone else around here is too. They don't need to know her business, not at all.
It takes her a bit but she finally reaches the hallway she thinks Alan is in. Hopefully he's still there. She comes to an abrupt stop, nearly skidding on the floor in her flats, but grabs at the corner to stop herself from wiping out.]
Alan? You here?
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Until the footprints stop. And she speaks. Alice? No no no- that's wrong. He flinches and turns his head in her direction, crumbling the page up in a surprised tension. He blinks a few times, eyes darting then focusing on her with a deep frown. Is he here? What a loaded question. ]
Yes. Right here. [ She provides context clues. How she's gripping the wall. She's out of breath. Not too much time then. Good. Meanwhile, he's disheveled. Disoriented. Displaced. There's a cut on his head trickling blood. "Ah," everyone will think. "He must've hit it pretty hard just now. That explains all that." It drips in his eye and he reaches to wipe it away while saying: ] I'm okay. ...Did you run?
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[Wendy shakes her head, a tinge of color to her cheeks and her ponytail loose. It's obvious she was rushing down here.]
Yeah I was kinda worried when you hung up on me. So I ran the rest of the way.
[The swipe at his head doesn't get past her, and she invites herself into his personal space, gently putting a hand to his and moving it out of the way to get a better look at the spot he's touching. She doesn't see any blood, but that doesn't mean there isn't a problem here. He's distressed, disoriented. Better to be safe than sorry.]
Did something happen? You hurt yourself? Let me look. [She's good at first aid.]
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And meets her eye to eye. She got incredibly close. His hand twitches once at the touch. The gentleness of it throwing him off completely. The hand moved slides into a position to hold at the edge of her sleeve while leaning on her wrist. His other one moved in there, balled up around paper but hovering like he's barely preventing himself from just holding on to her entire arm in touch-starved desperation. Eyes just scanning her face with concern while his head tips to give her a better angle and make up for the height difference. Okay Doctor Lin, do your thing. ]
Did I? Is it bad? [ It's a doozy of a cut there. It'll bruise. Way to go. ] You have an MD in there too?
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[Most wouldn't think it about her, but Wendy Lin is capable of gentleness and treating things (and people) with care. She isn't the total ice queen they gossip about in the halls and break areas. Not at all. Sometimes she lets the facade slip - like right now.]
You're okay - I got you. [No need for tiptoe - Wendy's a pretty tall woman. She can check his eyes fairly easy, and she murmurs a quiet thanks when he tilts his head down for her. She squints a bit.] Your pupils are still a bit blown out. How's your heart rate doing? Calming down any?
[She'll check it herself in a moment. Too busy trying to look for a head wound or something remotely similar.]
Don't see anything. [She shakes her head.] Does it feel like you hurt yourself? Where exactly? Can you show me?
[There she goes. Asking too many questions. But his catches her off guard and she tries not to laugh. The bashfulness is evident though.]
Nah, not me. I know plenty of the basics. Just hoping we won't have to bring you to the infirmary. Their bedside manner is terrible down there.
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He tries to move with her. She's got him. She's obviously looking at his eyes so he tries to look back at her while she is, focus. A soft 'mmhm' in acknowledgment to the murmur. He retracts back his hands and puts them against his own chest. Heart rate? ] Getting better, I think.
You don't? [ The confusion is evident though. Her head shakes and he places a hand over his own feeling along it and trying to locate the source of the throbbing within it. Yeah. The cut. Sticky with blood. He pulls his hand back and looks at it to be sure. ] There's a cut. [ He moves to take her hand and place it towards the spot, not touching it but so she can look. The other still on his chest. Maybe he spot too soon about that rate getting better. ] Over here.
[ Questions weren't being counted. An eyebrow raises with a slight smirk on his mouth. He shrugs. ]
Yeah, I know. They like to use medical terms like "you're crazy" "walk it off" and "the poison will probably wear off."
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I don't, no. [She shakes her head, the gesture abruptly cut short by his hand touching hers. She lets him place it wherever he needs her to check. It's fine, despite her initial hesitation.] Can you tell me more about what happened?
[He's a mess, sure. But there's no blood. Not even a paper cut. This might be entirely psychosomatic.
She frowns.] Poison? Who would want to poison you? [It's definitely not her. She would never. She has no reason to.] That's just rude. [Another frown, this one much deeper.] I don't think you're crazy. We have stressful jobs. Shit happens.
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Why would he be seeing...? He looks up, willing himself not to look anything other than calm. A deep breath. It doesn't work. He stares off to the side. Well, he's not going to tell her he was fucking hallucinating that's for sure. He's holding her hand on her, without really realizing it. A slight tremble to it. ] I don't know what happened. I thought I hit my head. Did I talk to you today? Before the text?
[ His eyes cut back to her. ] People that don't like what I write. [ Alan's head shakes. He goes to look at the paper in his hand and realizes one of his is holding Wendy's still. He pulls back and mutters an apology. ] Y-Yeah. Shit happens. Maybe I had a bad trip. [ You know, not the horrific alternative that his body got hijacked and he killed a member of the staff and the cleanup was so grand he doesn't even have a cut anymore. That'd be crazy. ]
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I don't believe so? I can double-check to be certain but it's been a pretty busy day for me. Wasn't on my phone a lot. [Could also be interpreted as: Didn't make enough time to slack off like she usually does.]
A bad trip? [Wendy withdraws her hand, ends up crossing her arms over her chest.] I won't blab or anything - but what sort of recreational activities have you been up to? Will help me figure out what I can and can't give you to feel better.
[The last thing she needs is to accidentally kill him. She needs all the info she can get here.
His paranoia re: his self-proclaimed anti-fans has been noted. She's going to store that away for later.]
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[ The hand withdraws and Alan touches the side of his face with his, sighing and shaking his head. Great. Now she's judging him. ] I don't know. [ Is that a lie? He has no idea. Like, he has a pocket of coke but that's probably not the issue here. He pauses. Sighs. Retracts his hand and rubs under his nose with a finger. ] People are with me when I do things, drinking aside. I'm not stupid enough to do it alone. [ He covers his eyes with his hand, trying to intentionally control his breathing now. Calm. Calm. ] I'm just guessing because the alternative is I'm crazy. Which I'm not. [ Up for debate. ]
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Can't say you don't know. I won't be able to give you anything if you don't give me an idea of what could be in your system right now. [A slight chuckle, maybe a bit nervous-sounding?] You really don't want me going with a random guess.
[She shakes her head.] I don't think you're crazy. I think this is just a response to something I haven't identified yet. [A pause.] Do you wanna walk? We can walk. [And she gestures towards back from where she came, her other hand gently touching his arm.]
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[ He looks back at her, raising an eyebrow. ] You don't? [ Complete surprise. He scans her face for a lie in it and doesn't find one then relaxes his shoulders. A wave of calm. Considerable calm. ] Yeah. Lead the way. [ Alan leans into it, without leaning into her at all. He can keep walking straight, a testament to the calmness. ]
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I don't. [She shakes her head.] I'm just gonna skim over the apparent eraser you ate today too. Pretend like you didn't tell me that. [She laughs a bit, the sound so light. Genuine.]
If it's just caffeine and cigarettes with a little bit of booze - you should be fine. [He's speaking to the Alcohol Champion of the World here.] Maybe you have an adverse reaction to certain stimulants? [A sudden thought hits her:] Oh, are you taking any medication?
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At least he doesn't reek like cigarettes and booze. Coffee? Yes. And blood. Wait, what? ] I've never had those before, I don't think. [ Maybe his tolerance went out the window. The back of his head gets rubbed. ] Besides those sleeping pills I attempted that didn't do shit? No. No, I've never been prescribed anything. [ Should he be? Probably. ]
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They're going to take the elevator back up to her neck of the woods. He shouldn't be climbing stairs in this state. She nudges Alan's arm to steer him away from the nearest stairway and put him in the direction of the elevator close by. She hits the call button for them, tapping her foot as they wait.]
What sort of sleeping pills? Melatonin, something harder? I'm taking notes - promise. Mental ones. [Her head tilts a bit, fingers ending up in her ponytail.]
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