Night 52: East Wing, Hall A (1st Floor)

[doneinthree]

[from here]

"Yup," he confirmed, and suddenly veered off into the hallway containing the doctor's offices. Uhura was following close behind anyway, as he could see from the beam of light traversing the walls ahead of him. Kirk had been here twice before, once during the day for his own therapy session, and once during the night with Chekov. The corridor they entered now existed in an eerie world in between those two trips: claustrophobically half the width of the main hall and shadowed at the dead end, but the single flickering, functional light overhead at least told him that they weren't walking into a frog-shark-man-monster ambush. Small favours.

Second door on the left was Dr. Kisugi's office, but Kirk didn't need a flashlight to see the absence of a name plate. He frowned slightly as he touched the empty slot on the door. "Her name was Kisugi. Scary woman. No sense of humour. You would've liked her." Kirk shot Uhura a smirk at that, but there was no real amusement in it. Had something happened to her? True, he hadn't exactly liked Kisugi, but he also hadn't forgotten the possibility that the doctors were as much victims as they were.

Still, on the hierarchy of people he needed to worry about, hospital staff ranked several levels below crew. He knew his goal for tonight. Information. "And I have no idea how they schedule appointments," he added, dropping his hand and continuing down the rows of doors. "I didn't sign up for anything before a nurse directed me here. Same with Bones, I think. And Spock didn't have a session either, so it's not that everyone gets therapy— well, assuming they didn't just take one look at his ears and decide it was a lost cause."

Comments

[oneman-onekill.livejournal.com]

Niikura took the other boy's pause as an invitation to tag along, whether he'd meant it to be or not. So, in an instant, he'd come up alongside his new-found friend. "Eh, should be right above us." He jabbed a finger toward the ceiling. "And...maybe a little bit farther down." The finger moved accordingly.

It looked like all that effort to get into the good doctor's office had been for naught, but he wouldn't complain: he hadn't been the one body-slamming things needlessly. It did tell him something about his "partner" for the night, though: this kid, whoever he was, didn't really think before he acted. That was alright - Niikura could work with all types - but if they caught wind of a fight...well, perhaps he'd give the teen the benefit of the doubt.

Niikura gave a wide, easy grin. "Hope ya don't mind some company to tide you over; I got a fair amount of interest in that place m'self. Name's Niikura." Once again, his flashlight was tucked under an arm, this time to offer a hand to shake.

[livesbyinstinct.livejournal.com]

Kiba paused for only for a fraction of a second, hesitating only long enough to give the his new companion a brief, evaluating glance, before taking the hand offered him, shaking it firmly. "It’s Kiba,” he said with a slight smirk, tension giving way to an easy sort of informality. “And don’t let me stop you.”

As far as Kiba was concerned, Niikura could do whatever the hell he wanted, so long as he didn’t interfere with any of his current goals. Kiba certainly had no intention of stopping Niikura from coming or going, though having a partner for the night would certainly relieve the quiet tedium, and at least Niikura didn't seem like he was a complete idiot. Laid-back, sure, but not a moron, thank the Gods. He had put up with enough weirdos and condescending bastards for one day; he didn't know if he had the patience to deal with another with what little of it he had remaining. He could be wrong, of course, but Kiba had no qualms with going his own way or socking the guy in the face, partner or not, if he turned out to be wrong in his assumptions. He worked perfectly fine on his own, and wasn't about to put up with any crap from anyone or anything.

"Better get there as fast as we can move though,” he said, picking up his own flashlight that had long since been switched off, "before the Head Bastard gets any more bright ideas.”

Mentally envisioning where the room was based on Niikura’s directions (Up the stairs and down the hall. Piece of cake, right?), Kiba didn’t hesitate in taking the lead, setting off at a brisk pace down the hallway, keeping his eyes trained on his surroundings, vaguely unnerved by the odd shape of his own shadow as the lights routinely resurrected and died.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/994960.html?thread=73885840#t73885840).]