Two people for the price of one transmission [16/??? artefacts collected]

[sadfreezingbrit_archive]

[ The year is 2011. The place is Wonderland. The exact time is exactly some time after the events of this log.

Both audio and video of this transmission are on, but the view leaves something to be desired. A white ceiling, half of which is obstructed by a smudge of blood.

The voice quality is top notch however and some may be able to recognise echo_of_utopia and sadfreezingbrit talking to each other not too far away. ]

No, I... I don't-- I can't...

Perhaps your room number?

...Five... sixteen on the... twelfth floor.

[ Short pause. ] All right, just a moment. [ Longer pause. ] Please look straight ahead and follow the light with your eyes.

[ Even longer pause. ]

Thank you, now--

...W-wait, there's-- Can... Can you...

Ah, of course. Let me just turn it off.

[ The sound of footsteps draws closer and for a moment the video displays part of the clinic, its most notable feature being a bed occupied by one not exactly stellar looking Philip LaFresque.

The other participant is of course none other than the good Dr Lamb who promptly pushes a button on the device, thus ending today's episode of ER: Wonderland Edition. ]


[[OOC: Video/audio/text replies from both sadfreezingbrit and echo_of_utopia are possible. Action tags at the clinic are also very welcome. Please specify who you're calling, in case you have a preference.]]

Comments

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip shakes his head again. ]

Don't know...

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Something uh.... *He swallowed hard and carefully looked elsewhere.* Something I did?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip can't remember, but he strongly doubts that on the principle of things. That... so wouldn't happen.

He shakes his head again, vehemently this time, rather than just slowly moving it from one side to the other.

In hindsight that was not the best of ideas.

Eyes widening Philip grabs a towel on the side of his bed and hurriedly turns away from Tim.

Excuse him while he retches horribly for a moment.

But hey, on the plus side this has been going on for a while before Tim came here and there isn't actually any stomach content left to dramatically support his ongoing nausea.

...

...

And we're done here. Philip wipes his mouth, folds the towel and puts it on the other side of the bed and turns back to Tim. ]

...Sorry.

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*Shit. Well at least he's not puking up blood or any of the other horrid Operator induced funtimes Tim has been subjected to.*

J-just take it easy okay?

*He pulls up a chair and sits, accutely aware of how unnerving it is to have people loom over you when you're injured in a hospital bed.*

Need anything? Water? Crackers? Blankets?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Whoa. Whoa, okay, he was not expecting a lady. Dean takes a deep breath, considers this, and re-evaluates who she must be. 1) They're in a clinic. 2) Philip needs looking after. It's only logical that there's a doctor.

Right?

Right.]

...uh.

[He's still taken aback, nonetheless, having expected little opposition, and struggles with formulating an explanation for himself.]

I'm Phil's friend. Came to see if he's okay.

[echo-of-utopia.livejournal.com]

[ Luckily Lamb only has one patient at the moment, so it's not too difficult to determine who this young and eloquent man is looking for. ]

Phil? Is that his name?

[ Apparently Mr LaFresque didn't get around to sharing the exciting revelations of his little chat with Dean yet.

Lamb points towards the far end of the clinic and starts walking towards an occupied bed behind a hospital curtain. ]

He's over there, but I'm afraid he is in no shape for a longer conversation.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Why do doctors make him so nervous? It's not only that, it's the whole...hospital...clinic thing...that bothers him, too. It's too pristine and boring a place to sit in when you're sick or dying. Dean would know. He's been there.

For the startling number of times he's stalked hallways like this for the sake of a case, he still isn't used to them - not by a long-shot. Following after the woman quietly, Dean grimaces as soon as he sees the curtain.

C'mon, Dean, pull yourself together. Pretend it's another case.]

Can you tell me what happened to him, Doctor...?

[-Insert Name Here-]

[echo-of-utopia.livejournal.com]

Doctor Lamb.

[ She briefs him while walking. ]

Unfortunately I cannot say. I found him in a corridor near the clinic. He...

[ They arrive at Phil's bed and Lamb pauses, looking to see his reaction to Dean. Just because he says he is a friend of Phil doesn't mean he couldn't be somebody else entirely; the person who did this in the first place, for instance.

...But Lamb already has her suspicions on the culprit and the smile her patient attempts upon seeing Dean is sufficient confirmation. ]

He does not recall the incident at the moment.

[ She turns to Dean. ]

A number of residents here are prone to violence, with or without cause. Unless he was attacked for reasons I am unaware of I regret to say that he may have simply been... unlucky.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Like out in the hall? Jesus.

[Dean shoves his hands into his pockets, looking genuinely upset, actually, about what he's seeing. Phil's worse in person, like the by-product of being tossed around by a wendigo. He resists the urge to demand an explanation for his state, seeing that Philip really isn't in the right mind for talking too long.

Standing by the bedside, hands curling into fists in his jeans, he assesses the damage and keeps the conversation light and frivolous as he crouches by the bed.]

Hey, dude. Don't think you'll be winnin' any beauty pageants anytime soon.

[Dean glances back at Doctor Lamb.] Unlucky? That ain't exactly comforting. So what's the prognosis, then, 'cause I figure he's gotta have a concussion.

[What frustrates him is that people he knows keep getting hurt, and he's never around to help.]

[echo-of-utopia.livejournal.com]

No, it certainly is not.

[ Another look at Phil. No visible objections to Dean's presence, so she proceeds with her diagnosis, nodding to confirm Dean's suspicion. ]

A moderate concussion, several minor facial fractures and... some trauma to his abdomen. [ And now the translation! ] It appears he has received severe blows to his head and stomach. There have been no complications so far, but I certainly recommend further observation to be sure.

[ The last part is said in Phil's direction before she looks back at Dean. ]

As it is now I expect him to largely recover within the week.

[ See? Not as bad as it looks.

Probably.

She's not sharing that particular detail without Phil's explicit consent, but all the information she has is... annoyingly vague, given that her patient quite vehemently refused further examination via scans.

It's frustrating, especially since she can't for the life of her imagine what he's so worried about her discovering... ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

A week, right.

[Dean repeats automatically, standing.]

Is there, uh-

[How to not make this sound intrusive without...being intrusive? It isn't as though he can just go hunting the first violent being he sees in the mansion on a mission to tear its friggin' lungs out, because A) it might not have lungs at all, depending, and B) Dean has no idea what the perpetrator looks like without Philip's description.]

...anything I can do to help?

OH FOR THE LOVE OF-- *throws in towel*

[echo-of-utopia.livejournal.com]

You can stay with him if you would like.

Seeing a familiar face always provides some comfort, although you will likely find that it is difficult for him to concentrate at the moment, amongst other things.

[ Clearly by help Lamb assumes Dean is talking about medical assistance rather than bloody vengeance. ]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Thanks... [ As in 'no, thanks'. ]

{ But I could use a better place to stay until somebody's cleaned up the chaos in here. }

[ Philip doesn't so much mind the looming, to be honest he was getting a little nervous alone with the doctor (who is currently out for a few minutes). So really, Tim's company is appreciated, even if that's a little difficult to convey in Philip's current state of mind.

...Speaking of which, this is just about the point where Tim's appearance is actually starting to sink in. Again. ]

...Are you okay?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*He half grins.*

I got shot. I can add it to my list of life experiences.

I'll be fine. Eventually. Right now I sorta look like a battered housewife.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Bloody vengeance? No...no, what are you talking about? Dean isn't prone to 'bouts of violence. You must be mistaken. He clears his throat and nods.]

Yeah, that's...that's fine. Whatever I can do, y'know?

[Slaughtering people or not.

He casts his gaze around briefly, grabbing at the nearest chair and dragging it over to the bedside. Assuming that he might need to help with that "wake them up every half-hour" thing, Dean leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He hasn't seen Castiel - or Sammy, for that matter - for a couple of days, and peering into Phil's transmission to see that he's a wreck?

That makes him feel a little guilty.]

Lemme know if there's anything else I can help you with, doctor.

[echo-of-utopia.livejournal.com]

Thank you, that is very kind of you, Mr...?

[ Might as well keep track of visitor names, right?

Oh, and one announcement in advance: ]

I will need to take care of some business in the practice next door for a moment.

Please let me know immediately if his condition changes.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip shows as much concern as his largely swollen face can muster. ]

Who...?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

No clue. I uh... wasn't there.

*And that's about as much as he'll say in a public place like this.*

How about you? Your head looks like someone dropped a brick on it.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Feels like it too....

[ Philip chuckles, then almost laughs. 'Inappropriate emotional responses'. That is also a thing that's happening here right now.

He doesn't answer the question, half because it doesn't register in the first place and half because he doesn't have an answer. It's all gone, at the very least for now... ]

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*He's familiar with head injuries of ALL KINDS so the laughter doesn't phase him. *

How long you gonna stay in here? Hospitals give me the creeps.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean resists the urge to call himself "Mick Jagger", instead opting for honesty since this place is fairly close-knit. Too many people know him already for him to pretend that he's a famous rocker.]

...Winchester. Dean Winchester. [He raises an eyebrow at the informative statement.] Yeah, no worries. I'll keep an eye on 'im.

[Another nod.]

Thanks, doc.

1/2

[echo-of-utopia.livejournal.com]

Of course.

[ A nod sounds like a great idea. She offers one to both Dean and Phil before departing. ]

2/2

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ ~MEANWHILE IN THE HOSPITAL BED NEXT TO THIS CONVERSATION ~

Philip was still listening- trying to listen to the conversation at first, but the entertainment value of their talk didn't really measure up to the energy required to pay closer attention.

So when Lamb leaves he's just about to drift off and continue nursing his headache in his dreams. ]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ The chuckling ebbs away and Philip looks temporarily confused at his own reaction, not sure what was so funny in the first place.

Right! Anyway. Question. ]

She said, uh...

[ She being none other than Doctor ~SMILE~ Lamb and the thing she said being... err... a bit... foggy right now.

On the plus side, we have once more arrived at the point where Tim's appearance is actually starting to sink in. ]

Are... are you okay?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean leans in after Doctor Lamb leaves, rubbing the back of his neck and raising his eyebrows.]

Hey, Phil.

[A little louder.]

Phil? How ya doin'?