02. you know I'm not dead [open]

[bespectacle]

CHARACTERS: Harry Potter & you
LOCATION: Medical Bay
WARNINGS: PG-13 to R for references to graphic violence, monsters, etc.
SUMMARY: During the modplot, Harry Potter is wheeled in with a Muttation bite on his arm. He winds up camping out uncomfortably in the Medical Bay, sardined in with uncles and friends and SEC personnel, making occasional ventures out into the corridor, PERHAPS IN THINE LOVELY COMPANY.
NOTES: Backdated! For corridor patrol, I don't mind if I get +1 rescuer and +1 person lost/struggling in the corridors to save. Here to plot if need be.


{{ EMERGENCY INTAKE }}

[Moreso than usual-- moreso than ever, the Medbay is on lockdown and high-alert, guarded by SEC personnel who are armed to the teeth, every emergency and living supply made available. Harry notices this kind of, but mostly it goes by in a blur.

Because Harry's being rushed along on a gurney, the left lens of his glasses shattered, and his leg bound up haphazardly in a first application of gauze. The human-faced patchy-furred kind-of-dog thing got him good. Harry hadn't heard his bones break, but he wouldn't put money on that, and the Xenomorph carved up his shirt good too.] Bloody Hell, [he says to the ceiling. This is quite some potty talk, for him.

Crookshanks yowls, perched on his belly. The cat seems to be glaring at anybody who comes near, but restraining himself from actively attacking.]

---

{{ SITTING AROUND FREAKING OUT DOING NOTHING }}

[Sleep is impossible. Maybe it's because the makeshift dorm area is between the pods, which has any number of bizarre effects and connotations. For example, they spend enough of their time here in forced sleep, prehensile tubes jammed down their throats. For another, there are a couple of comatose people floating around ghost-like. It's a little creepy.

Maybe it's because there are monsters only a few walls away. For the third time of the night-time hours, Harry turns over on his pile of bedding, sighing loudly. He picks up his glasses for the third time, and then sits himself up. He finds his feet in an ungainly way, but he's mostly healed: barely a limp now, thanks to the combination of nanites and essence of dittany.] Hey, [he notices another person sitting up, a silhouette.

He whispers,] Want some tea? I'm going to make some. [Harry flashes a grin, friendly in the dark. Starts to move, stiffly toward the blue light of the doorway.]

---

{{ CORRIDOR PATROL }}

[This time, Harry's going to bring his broom.

He swings a leg over-- seamlessly now, and without pain. Settles onto the shaft in a completely non-sexual way, and glances back over his shoulder.] Come on, then, [he calls out.]

Comments

[bespectacle]

[Harry's face creases briefly into a grimace. He selects himself some chai tea cuz he's still a baby, and installs some sugar in an empty cup. Pushes over the jar to the other wizard next.] Well, I'd take people-faced dog-bears over dementors any day, [he answers, quite frankly.] Although I can't say I know how they were born or anything like that.

And I was on the network the other day. [Harry sits himself down in one of the chairs, glancing briefly at the small jet of steam starting up enthusiastically out of the kettle. He gestures for Remus to go first.] There's an awful lot of worlds where everyone's dead or nearly dead, isn't it? Last I was home, there were more than six billion Muggles on the planet. But some of these ones I've read about, there are only a few hundred thousand, maybe.