Night 66: Main Hallway, 1-West

[dualistic]

[From here.]

That hadn't taken long. So much so that it looked like he was the first person to make it this far. Harvey took a moment to scan the hall with his flashlight, including near the stairs, but he didn't see (or hear) much of anything. It was the sort of thing that set him on edge.

Since he couldn't do much else, he leaned himself against the wall by the stairs and then grabbed for his gun, holding it near his side as he waited. Normally he didn't take the weapon out unless he planned to shoot it, but when there was a possibility that some transformed patient might come barreling down the halls in the next few seconds, he wanted to take precaution.

Hopefully Scott and Sangamon would haul ass over here before all hell started to break loose. If things got too hairy, Harvey was ready to make a run for it on his own. That was the logical thing to do.

[Waiting for S.T.]

Comments

[scarefaux]

The Scarecrow leaned on Scar's arm as he attempted to get back up, but he couldn't quite get his feet under him well enough to do so. His legs weren't the only things shaking- in the dim light, he could see the rest of his body starting to tremble, reacting to something he wasn't aware of yet simply because he couldn't feel it. It had to be that sickness that had worn into him all day, he thought, or the clever little thing making things difficult. He refused to think otherwise- certainly not when they had a task to do.

He stubbornly pushed off Scar, only to end up leaning on the wall instead, his legs refusing to straighten out. He was more determined than ever by Scar's insistence he go back to the room; it struck an all-too-familiar chord in him, as it was something Depth Charge would have told him— and had told him— in similar circumstances.

"I'm not going to sit around while my roommate is in trouble, Scar," he argued, voice shaking almost as much as his limbs. "I- I'm the one who knows the way, and it'll take both of us to get him to safety. I'm just having some trouble walking, but I'll be okay in a minute. You'll see."

[envy_the_sinners]

"Well we don't have a minute," Scar grumbled, following Frank as he pushed away only to end up leaning heavily against the wall. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn? Was there an ounce of logic in Frank's head? He was visibly shaking on his feet!

Scar stood beside the other man, reaching around his back with one hand and using his other to pull Frank's near arm around his shoulders. He would ignore whatever protest his companion made. If he wanted to actually be of some help to his roommate, he wasn't going to be able to get there in time on his own. Scar supported a good deal of Frank's weight easily, glancing sideways at him. If he had to carry him up the stairs, he would.

[scarefaux]

"You think I don't know that?" the Scarecrow returned indignantly, his legs starting to tingle with sensation again. In all honesty, Scar was right: the Scarecrow was the one who had been insisting they move faster, leading the way to where his roommate was being held prisoner- if anything, he shouldn't have been the one holding them back too, even if it was his body that was giving them reason to delay. The doctors could have been cutting Skulduggery's head open right at that second for all he knew, or worse. He was wasn't quite sure what worse would be, but he was positive Wizard Landel could make it happen.

His brow knotted with worry as he shook his head, letting Scar support him again. "No, you're right. We really don't have a minute to waste, do we? Not when we don't even know what they're doing to him." He gave Scar an encouraging smile despite the grim scenario he'd presented, trying to stand on his own two legs (which still didn't seem to want to straighten fully anymore, and he couldn't discern why). "I'll be okay once we get up the stairs. It's not far from there. I don't think I could turn back now if I wanted to- not knowing what he might be going through. I couldn't live with myself if I did that!"

[envy_the_sinners]

"Fine." Scar watched Frank carefully, particularly his legs. Was it simply that he was too weak to stand on them? Or was something truly wrong? They seemed almost misshapen.

Wary of what may or may not happen, Scar supported Frank's weight with relative ease, marching onto the stairs.

[To here!]