revivalproject | [Open] At Least The Hospital Isn't Haunted?

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[Open] At Least The Hospital Isn't Haunted?

WHO: Robin Buckley, Open
WHERE: Temba Hospital
WHAT: Post Attack Threads
WHEN: September 12th Onward
WARNINGS: Discussions (potentially detailed) of strangulation and attempted murder

I. Bedside Manners Please | Daytime - Good for Interviews

The hospital room is at least a nice one. One with a window so there is light coming in from outside. Right now the dog that had come rushing up when Billy Loomis was helping her to the hospital was stretched out in that pool of sunshine. Robin watches the dog in his happy resting.

At least one of them was happy.

Robin's fingers come up o touch the swath of bandaging around her neck, holding the salves that the ~~hot~~ doctor had worked into her skin before putting the bandages on. It's still painful. At least breathing wasn't too much of a problem right now. She sighed, something she immediately winced over the pain over. Then she looked back down at the communication device in her lap. She should do something to entertain herself. Or maybe message her friends to let them know she could really use some company.

No, though. There were reasons not to do that. Maybe later. So she puts the device back down in her lap.

When she heard someone at the door, though, she turned her head slowly to regard them. Nods briefly to them, because pain for a greeting wasn't worth it right now.

II. Friend Time | Afternoon/Evening - For pre-existing CR peeps not after questioning her

If there was one time that Robin absolutely refused to put up with questions during, it was meals. The food was better than the hospital in Hawkins, so there was that. But mostly, she doesn't want to try both the strain of talking to people about the new trauma and eating at the same time. So when lunch and dinner happen, she glares hard at those she doesn't want around until they figure it out and head out for a while.

It's different with her friends. Different with the people she already knows and trusts and believes could have had nothing to do with hurting her. Then when meals come up she shoos Little Bear from the bed, pulls the rolling tray closer, and scootches over so her friend can join her in the bed. Because being close to someone so she can keep talking is nice. Especially when she has to whisper even more quietly while trying to eat. Nothing like trying to swallow with a damaged throat and still trying to hold a conversation. Especially with her hands too taken up to be typing on her comm or writing on paper to answer.

III. The Night Shift | Nights - For Guards and/or Comforting a scared Robin | Please No Additional Here - Have A Lot Of These Now

Fear was something Robin was used to living with. Had been since things went wrong back at the mall. But that had never felt personal. That had never been so direct. It had never made her so afraid of being alone in the dark. Not that the hospital is fully dark. The lights in the room are just down low. And she's not alone either.

The dog that used to belong to the clothes lady was lying in bed with her after all, carefully stretched out on her good side and resting his big head on her stomach. His tail beat a slow rhythm as she lets her fingers stroke over his soft, curly fur. But her eyes... they're always on the door. Wide. Watching. Fearful.

She hates this. Having a new reason to fear the night. It was better when it was monsters. It was better when evil people were the government or bigots. It was better when she knew what people who would hurt her looked like.

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"Not mine," Robin says. Though now he was she supposed. He hadn't left her side since then.

But she strokes Little Bear between the ears and nods. She has permission.

"Yeah, I once had a dog that 'wasn't mine', too," Shaw says - walking slowly over to the bed and kneeling down next to it, putting a hand out for the dog to sniff. "His name was Bear."

An interesting connection there. The dog hears the word 'Bear' and his tail starts to thump eagerly. But he doesn't try and move over Robin. He's clearly concerned with hurting her.

"Belonged to lady. In hotel. Clothes making."

Belonged, not belongs. Someone who disappeared, maybe? Vanished to who-knows-where?

"You don't have to talk if it hurts," Shaw says, her hand still resting on the dog's neck. "Don't want you to make yourself worse. And I, uh-- I'm not good at this stuff."

Someone who wasn't here anymore, yes.

But at least Sameen isn't pushing her to talk. Other people might. And it hurt enough to be an annoyance. Though she didn't know if it would make her worse. Not that she was a doctor.

She raised an eyebrow though, as if to say 'what stuff'

"Making people feel better when they're hurt or scared." She pauses, and then adds, wryly, "Or just... talking, in general."

Yeah, that much Robin clearly got. This woman wasn't screaming bedside matter. Though she shrugged as if to say 'who is'. Because Robin was only good at rambling, and that was out of the picture right now.

And so, maybe, Shaw will take on that role. For a little while. Until the kid falls asleep, or stops looking scared, or--

"You came and sat with me when I was a kid," she says, interrupting her own thoughts. "During that whole... thing."

How else do you describe 'that time that people started randomly turning into children'?

"So, uh-- thanks. I was ten and you were nice to me; figured I should return the favor."

That was this woman? Damn, Robin had really run into a lot of kids back then. But this was still shocking.

"Was right," Robin rasps out. "Helping."

"Yeah," says Shaw - because out of all the uncertainty in her life, all the things she doesn't know or doesn't understand or isn't sure of, she is sure of this. "Yeah, helping is always right."

And it may not come any more naturally to her than sitting here does, but here she is anyway.

It really is. Or so Robin had confirmed to her over time. Doesn't change the fact that she's intrigued by this connection. She didn't remember the girl nearly so well as she did Donnie, but she had more 'his life is on the line' then because of his biology. And more interactions with him since.

"Why protecting me?" she rasped out next. Sure, she could buy the 'I owe you' line for the comfort, but for the rest?

"Because you were attacked," Shaw says, a faint frown of confusion creasing her brow. If it's a given that helping is always the right thing to do, then surely protecting someone from being murdered is the ultimate right. "And I'm a good fighter. I wasn't bullshitting you when I said if anyone breaks in here, I can handle it."

Yes, that is definitely accurate. She was attacked. And that was why some of her friends had been watching out for her. But a relative stranger? That's shocking.

"You could have done it," Robin whispers. So is she really that safe?

"Yeah, I could have."

It's true, and it would be dumb to lie about it. She'll refrain from saying If I'd wanted to kill you, I would have actually succeeded, though.

"But I've been in here for a few minutes, and I haven't done anything."

Yeah, she hasn't. But... Well...

"Dog," she points out, touching Little Bear's head again. And she's seen the thing that prowls the halls here. It's scary.

Hmmm, good point. Shaw tilts her head to the side, considering.

"I don't have a motive. Why would I want to hurt you?"

Robin rolls her eyes. So far as she knows no one here has a reason to hurt her. She's done nothing wrong. Except for being a lesbian. And is that really wrong? Not here.

"I didn't do anything," she argues, looking frustrated. "No reasons."

"Well. Then I'm out of arguments." She scritches lightly at the dog's ear, searching for the right sweet spot. "But I don't exactly blame you for not trusting me. Guess we'll both have to rely on 'time will tell' here."

Oh she'd definitely finding the spot. Little Bear indicates it with leaning more into Shaw, trying to get more contact. Wonderful. And his tail is absolutely still pounding on the bed in joy over the contact.

"Time sucks."

Because Time keeps screwing them over. And it flows weird at times.

"Sometimes trust is hard."

Especially when you're young, and a noncombatant, lying in a hospital bed.

"Yeah," Shaw says, heavily. "Time's the worst."

It's probably not fair to call her a noncombatant. She's been through enough to be an unwilling combatant over the years.

"Thank you. For helping."

"Yeah. Sorry I'm not too good at the whole talking part, but, uh-- you got a lot of people here from your world, right?"

Even if Tae hadn't mentioned it, it's easy enough to pick up through osmosis.

"Me either now."

She can talk a lot when she's okay. But right now she can't do that. She does nod though.

"Steve and Eddie and Max and Billy. Steve and Billy are guarding too."

It's a lot to get those words out, but they need out there. Especially how Eddie is her friend. She's heard from Steve that people were thinking Eddie did it.

"Mm, I've talked to Max and Billy - just a little bit. Max is an impressive kid, and Billy was... not a huge pain in the ass when he walked into my memories."

That counts for a lot, as far as she's concerned.

'Not a huge pain' gets a shocked raising of eyebrows. That's truly not something Robin expected to hear an adult say.

"Tough, them. Max gonna yell at me."

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