NIght 50: West Wing, North Hall 1-B

[givemeoblivion.livejournal.com]

[from here]

There was no one here yet. And wasn't that strange? If she remembered correctly, there was a male patient block here. Even if it was away from the others, it should still be fairly well occupied. Were they all just staying in for the night? It was also odd that no one from the female block had come up this way yet either. Either it was just too early, or something had happened in her absence that kept others from coming this way unless they had a larger group with them (or not at all).

Callisto stopped to shine her light down into the adjacent hall, seeing if she could pick out anyone heading out of their room. She thought she heard the sounds of people moving about on the other side of the wall, so it couldn't be completely empty. Was there any point in waiting around? She didn't need someone to accompany her, and it had only slowed her up in the past anyway.

She would wait a bit, perhaps, if only to sate her own curiosity before moving on.

Comments

[scavengerbird.livejournal.com]

Zevran shook his head, but couldn't entirely dislodge the ringing that persisted. Luckily, it was only in his own mind now, and the cause of it all had mercifully left them to suffer in peace. It seemed like that was the most thoughtfulness he could expect from the mystery man. Zevran knew what that edge to his voice meant all too well. He could have said anything in that tone and Zevran would have understood that the man was out for blood, for pride, and worst, maybe even for fun. Was it too much to ask that the messes he got himself into be slightly less complex?

Oliver was still on his feet and talking, which was a bit of silver lining, but it took Zevran several moments to pay attention to the words and their meanings. He would have hated to admit that the episode had unbalanced him, but here he was, less sure with each passing moment. There were only so many more oddities that could be fit into this night before he had his fill. A quick glance at the strangers caught in the hall with them made it clear to Zevran that he and Oliver were not alone in their displeasure. He didn't like the picture it was painting.

"People like our new friend are rarely satisfied with subtlety," he sighed through the aftermath in his brain. "Although I do hope that his complimentary closer is not a habit of his. It will get very old very fast. You're well, though, yes?"

[arrowonline.livejournal.com]

"Sounds like you're familiar with the type," Oliver said, and though his tone was a little dry, he wasn't entirely surprised. While he doubted kidnapping civillians went against the already-questionable morals of people who thought kidnapping was a good recruitment strategy and auditory torture a fun party game, it probably would go against their sense of efficiency. Which really made him wonder what the actual purpose behind that noise had been, come to think of it. It had to be some kind of distraction, surely.

Oliver raised his free hand to rub at his temples, the gesture formed more by habit than any real hope that it would drive off the dregs of the ache rattling around his skull. He resisted the urge to shake his head to dislodge the ringing; it was more likely to ruin his balance.

"I'm fine," he replied after a moment. "Been worse after a bad concert. How about you? Are you good to keep moving?"