who: Murray & @joycefm
where: the hospital :/
Once Quinn had woken up and seemed to be doing okay, the physical needs Murray had been neglecting for days hit him full force. In the span of an hour, his body had come down from an all-time high of anxiety and was suddenly screaming at him that it was exhausted, starving, restless. Perhaps sitting unmoved in the hospital chair by his daughter’s bedside for almost two full days wasn’t the peak of health. After much coaxing from Quinn and most of the nursing staff, Murray had gone home to take a nap-- two hours only-- and was returning with a few things for her: a change of clothes, a book, a plant for her bedside.
But he stopped short in the hallway when he spotted a familiar face. It was all Murray could do not to break down into tears at the sight of her. “Joyce,” he called, voice tender. “I heard Jonathan’s awake, he doing okay?” he asked, reaching out his free hand to squeeze her shoulder. He knew all too well how difficult it was to watch one’s child suffer and be powerless to stop it, now. His face flushed when he realized: he’d been so caught up in Quinn’s arrival that he hadn’t told Joyce she was in town, much less in the hospital. Eyes falling to the woman’s clothing in his hands, Murray decided to rip off the band-aid, per his usual style. “My daughter’s. Quinn. She’s here... in Hawkins. She was at the carnival, too,” his eyes were watery despite his best effort to remain stoic. “She’s fine, thank God. Just resting.”
