That was one of the most enthusiastic greetings that Phoenix had received since he'd gotten here, and certainly one of the friendliest. He couldn't help but smile in spite of knowing the answers to her questions, taking her hand in return. Even without the brace, he would have been careful in answering the handshake - there was something self-possessed and ladylike to her, a bearing that seemed especially out of place in the Landel's uniform.
"No problem. It's nice to finally meet you in person." He took his hand back slowly, seating himself in the nearest chair. The smile faltered a little as he went on; he hated to be the bearer of bad news, and while the situation could have easily been worse, it could have been better as well. "I haven't seen him today, no. I asked my nurse, though, and she said that he's in the infirmary. I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong with him, but all she'd tell me is that he's sick and should be better soon." It was standard procedure, the staff being as vague as possible, but it irritated Phoenix anyways. He was used to being able to tease out better answers than this. That's when you have some kind of bargaining chip, though: a badge, existing facts, a court, evidence, the LAPD. The nurses don't have a reason to tell you anything.
He gave a little frustrated noise, meeting Mercedes' gaze. "I'm sorry I couldn't get more out of them, but I'll keep trying." The situation was uncomfortably easy for him to sympathize with - trying to deal with serious, relentless problems while someone you cared about was missing, not knowing if they were safe or even alive. At the same time, he recognized her expression, and if she was willing to hope, so was he. He mustered up a little smile, continuing with a tone of quiet conviction. "I'm sure he'll be okay."
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"No problem. It's nice to finally meet you in person." He took his hand back slowly, seating himself in the nearest chair. The smile faltered a little as he went on; he hated to be the bearer of bad news, and while the situation could have easily been worse, it could have been better as well. "I haven't seen him today, no. I asked my nurse, though, and she said that he's in the infirmary. I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong with him, but all she'd tell me is that he's sick and should be better soon." It was standard procedure, the staff being as vague as possible, but it irritated Phoenix anyways. He was used to being able to tease out better answers than this. That's when you have some kind of bargaining chip, though: a badge, existing facts, a court, evidence, the LAPD. The nurses don't have a reason to tell you anything.
He gave a little frustrated noise, meeting Mercedes' gaze. "I'm sorry I couldn't get more out of them, but I'll keep trying." The situation was uncomfortably easy for him to sympathize with - trying to deal with serious, relentless problems while someone you cared about was missing, not knowing if they were safe or even alive. At the same time, he recognized her expression, and if she was willing to hope, so was he. He mustered up a little smile, continuing with a tone of quiet conviction. "I'm sure he'll be okay."