players : cricket and @kaliloggingon floor : 52. hospital.
A lot could be said about Velia, but it was the little things that Cricket really warmed up to. Where else could she slip out of a hospital bed, plop onto a rolling stool and propel herself with a crutch into a hall and still be virtually invisible to everyone on the floor. Maybe it helped that it was late and the NPCs on this floor seemed especially haggard. But the real skill had been slipping past Leo, who’d been posted at her bedside for who knows long. He’d been adamant about her staying put even though he knew how much hospitals stressed her out. The beds. The paintings. Everything about a hospital put her on edge. At least this way she was holed up in a tiny claustrophobic room.
Yep. This way she could visit whatever room she wanted. Which is where she found herself now, curled up in an stiff little arm chair as she ignored the throbbing pain of her battle wounds. Rolling through the hall, it was as if every one of her nerve endings were screaming in agony in an attempt to make her turn around and remember why she was in the hospital in the first place. It might’ve worked too if she hadn’t been so focused on getting to this spot. It might’ve worked now as she felt herself growing dizzy from the intensity of it all. But watching the shallow breathing of the person across from her, she felt she was where she needed to be. Even if it was only for a little while. From the moment she’d heard Kali was here, on the same floor, Cricket knew she needed to see her. She needed to make sure she was ok. Not that she could tell from here.
She’d whispered to her after she’d managed to jimmy the door open. No response. Which was the one ok thing about hospitals. She didn’t feel as creepy just hanging around while someone slept. Which happened a good bit. Sleeping didn’t come easily to Cricket, even when she had someone like Leo or Lucia to keep her company. So this was nothing new. Taking a rasped breath of her own, Cricket shifted and pulled up her inventory. With a tap, her Ukulele appeared and she ran her calloused finger tips along the strings. She plucked them a few times, soft and light, before she found a nice melody. It wasn’t a recognizable one. But it came easy, required little movement and took the edge off the pain. She was sure the NPC nurses would hate it. Something about a distraction to the rest of the staff. Not that they really needed the concentration of real doctors. So it was a nice distraction, to her at least, and it wasn’t long before she leaned her head back into the chair cushion, humming quietly.