Participants:
| Scene Title | Pride's A Sin |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Raquelle comes to pick up Joseph from the hospital, who has some trouble accepting the help he had asked for. Things are worse than they appear. |
| Date | May 27, 2009 |
St. Luke's Hospital is known for its high-quality care and its contributions to medical research. Its staff place an emphasis on compassion for and sensitivity to the needs of their patients and the communities they serve. In addition to nearby Columbia University, the hospital collaborates with several community groups, churches, and programs at local high schools. The associated Roosevelt Hospital offers a special wing of rooms and suites with more amenities than the standard hospital environment; they wouldn't seem out of place in a top-rated hotel. That said, a hospital is a hospital — every corridor and room still smells faintly of antiseptic.
The bright white sterile lights of the hospital never switch off, in this wing, and even at the later hour that Joseph was delivered, there were people, doctors, patients, and nurses alike on sleepless shifts. Most of them has since changed by the morning. This was a mess in that disorder is a mess, and after rooting through the contacts list in his cellphone, skipping past the most reliable people in his life— parishioners and employees, employers alike— he finally landed on a number he thought might be more appropriate.
He hadn't made it through the call, had fumbled the cellphone off to a concerned nurse and held his head. On the plus side, he's no longer bleeding thanks to the modern medicine of staples. On the downside, he's at a hospital.
He'd explained it away, the visions. Joseph had readily admitted to being an Evolved (a Registered Evolved, and when he'd gone to get his card, he'd almost laughed because he doesn't even have his wallet) and a— whatdoyoucallit— a precognitive.
Never mind it doesn't work this way. Doesn't work.
He's in the waiting room by the time Raquelle can sift through early morning traffic to get to St. Luke's, as per Joseph interrupted request finished by the nurse. It would have been better, to go home last night— but they wouldn't let him, keeping him for both observation and the fact that there's a curfew to consider. Joseph looks about as great as he feels dressed in last night's clothes, forehead clasped in his hand but more optimistically, a half-drained paper cup of tea in his hand.
Raquelle has time in between finding a baby sitter for his daughters and working on getting something set up for why he won't be at work again, picking up some flowers and some tea and finishing applying his eyeliner…to find his keys, jump in his purple lovely Kia sportage and get to the hospital! There is alot more work that goes into driving back home to pick up some other essential items before getting back in the car and driving to the hospital.
When he arrives wearing a pair of fitted dark jeans, a button down dark blue shirt and docs on his feet. He also has a backpack slung over a shoulder and a bouquet of flowers in a hand as he charms his way past nurses and people and pauses in mid asking for Joseph's room when he sees him in the waiting room.
"…you holy son of a female dog…" - Very sweet greeting. Really.
Nnnh. Joseph pries that hand back from his head around the time Raquelle 'greets' him. Strange greeting or no, relief flits itself across the pastor's face, shoulders relaxing some before he's getting to his feet. Wearing a coat. That's a good sign, right? One that signifies leaving. The clothing beneath that— a button-down shirt and slacks are as immaculate as they can be when they've all you been wearing for hours, but he's straightened himself up. Drops of blood are visible on his collar, but there's no visible injury.
Of the physical kind, anyway, and not from this angle. "Thanks for comin'." His gaze flits down to the bouquet of flowers, and an amused smile manages to tug at his mouth. "I'm— not stayin'. I'd, I'd have gotten home myself, but— I just need a lift back. I'm not sure how much time there is."
Raquelle gives Joseph a quick once-over, head to toe and back up…eyes lingering on that collar for a moment before looking back at the man's face. "Mmhm." He offers the backpack and then the bouquet both at the same time. "Got time to stop by the little pastor's room before I get you home then? Or you can change in the car. Jeans, t-shirt, bought some new underoos and lord knows I know your ass hasn't grown since the last time I was staring at it." He pauses.
"Here, take it. Much time until what?"
His train is thought is promptly derailed, gaze stopping again on the flowers and then to the backpack. Oh. To put things into perspective— the frantic desire to get out and away from people is curbed by the desire to maybe be presentable. It's a fine line, but one that's easy to cross. The tepid tea is set aside and the backpack is taken with a muttered, sighed out thanks, and a little hesitation before the flowers are too.
"C'mon, 's this way."
Jittery or not, Joseph steps are as slowly paced as usual. "Time 'til— I don't know. Somethin' happened last night. T'me. And since then, I've been gettin' visions, without warning. Sometimes I catch a break for a few minutes, sometimes a bit longer, but— " He shrugs. "I told the doctors it's normal."
Raquelle mmhms softly, listening and following/walking beside Joseph with concern in those baby-blues. "Sweetie, you so do not look good…are you sure you don't /need/ to stay in the hospital? Or like, even call to talk to Abby or something?" He reaches out to tentatively rest a hand on Joseph's back, to be there to support him. "That's not normal, I know it isn't. What happened last night, hm?"
Yes, he lied to the doctors, and doesn't seem overly happy about it. But there it is. "I'd just like to go home," Joseph states, in what he hopes is his serious-and-responsible voice so that maybe someone will believe him. It's like his early-twenties all over again. "They did their part, now it's— now I guess I gotta do mine."
Whatever that means. "Oh— I was gettin' home late and I got cornered by a couple've— " There are too many explititives in the world, each one crowding for priorities before Joseph just dismisses it with a sigh. "I got mugged, and one of 'em cracked my head with a pipe. I got a vision straight after, then another when I got here. Barely remember 'em anyway."
Raquelle purses his lips, and he doesn't look very happy but he's trying to be supportive and caring as he sighs and gives a little nod. "Okay hon, do you have medication or somethin'? For your head, something to help you sleep?" He eyes the bathroom door, trying to figure out what in the world the preacher might mean about people doing their fault.
"You got mugged?!" He practically hisses, eyes widening. "Oh god…go change, do you need me to come with you?" He sighs. "This is not good, pastor, this is not good at all. Everybody needs a break."
"They gave me some medication," Joseph assures, before there's a rustle of flora and tissue paper when the flowers are deposited back into Raquelle's arms. "I'll be fine, just— wait here. I'll try an' be quick." His hand goes onto the door handle, and gives the younger man a somewhat tired, and hopefully reassuring smile. "I'll be alright, hopefully they really needed my spare change."
And credit card, but he's already cancelled what he needs to, so there's that. "I would've talked to Abby but— somethin's gone wrong with her power. It's missing entirely, an' I don't want to worry her. She'll just feel bad th— "
And that's about as far as he gets before his eyes unfocus, breath hitching as the sight of the hospital corridor and its accompanying sounds are snatched away from him in favour of a dreamlike future. His hands tighten on the backpack he's carrying and his back makes it to lean against the wall beside the door, jaw tightening before his blank stare decidedly closes.
"Good, have you been taking it?" Raquelle asks, it is reflexive 'fatherly' like question as he nods slowly and adjusts his hold on the flowers as he prepares to wait, listening, frowning, lots of different reactions to the information that's just being laid on him. Abby's in trouble? Joseph's in trouble? WAGH.
Then he reaches out quickly to grab Joseph's arm when he starts to get unfocussed and he wraps an arm, at least tries to wrap an arm around the other man. "Joseph?"
Raquelle is more of a source of security than an anonymous wall, and while he can't hear his name being spoken, he at least knows intellectually what's going on, in the midst of fragmented concentration and the throb of headache. The only answer Raquelle gets from Joseph is a groan, quiet and resigned, free hand moving to blindly fumble and latch onto the younger man's arm readily.
Anchoring him down as symbols, meaningless and scattered, tried to invade a mind attempting to shut them down, and failing.
A falling doll of wax hits ice, limbs breaking apart and skittering away from each other, sliding, the cracks begin to form beneath foot steps of men in masks and someone is in danger of falling through but in the spin of symbols and encroaching armies it's hard to tell who is who as the crimson begins to stain the white and-
On and on, the duration of which lasting a few minutes, Joseph trying to keep flinches off his face, although his hand gripping onto Raquelle's sleeve is knuckle-white with tension. It's a few minutes of blindness and deafness, responding only to what he can feel.
Raquelle takes a deep breath and just holds the man best he can, even rocking a bit as he watches the man with a small frown. This ain't natural/normal/right. He hmms and closes his eyes. "It's okay…" He murmurs softly. But he really has very little to say yet. He's just trying to support him the best he can.
A hospital staffmember affords the two men a passing glance but otherwise— flowers, grief, it all sort of makes sense in the general ambience of a hospital and so they go undisturbed, and when Joseph is breathing in like he's come up for air, his eyes open and focus sets back in—
"…hnn."
His hand loosens from Raquelle's sleeve, blinking, peering down the corridor, exactly where he'd been a moment ago, which— makes sense. "Thanks," Joseph thinks to murmur, because it's possible to be polite in the midst of panic, in the midst of getting his bearings back. "All night." A breathless chuckle that's not particularly mirthful. "It's been this way all night." And slowly extracting himself from Raquelle, letting his shoulder rest against the blank white wall beside the door. What was he doing?
Raquelle just closes his eyes and shudders. "You're welcome." He turns to lean beside him by the door and just looks a bit lost. "You really shouldn't be alone you know, going through shi-stuff like this." He clears his throat. "Are you /sure/ you want to go home alone?"
A hand goes up to rub at his forehead, warding off the headache unfurling once more in his skull, and Joseph hesitates. "As long as I'm home— if this doesn't go away on its own. Hopin' I can sleep it off, is all." Hesitantly, he takes his weight off the wall, casts Raquelle a quick and fleeting smile. "It's my gift. I should be able to…" Fix it. Something. He hesitates, then says instead, "I'll get changed," as his hand goes out towards the door handle.
Raquelle picks up the flowers where he dropped them and just eyes the man dubiously. "Me and the girls will stay with you for a couple of days or until it does go away, okay?" He sighs softly and straightens up quite a bit before fidgeting with the flowers. "Pastor, just because you get a gift doesn't mean you gotta fix it. If Santa brings you a toy train and it breaks, it isn't something for you to fix…you send it back to Santa."
The door creaks as Joseph goes to open it, but sharply, its shut again, a gesture of misdirected, overtired impatience, hand up again to rub and pinch the bridge of his nose and when he goes to look at Raquelle, his gaze shoots past him before reluctantly meeting his eyes. "God gave me this gift, an'— and the only way I'm gonna be— sendin' it back to Him is by givin' myself time. I can't expect you to— "
Flustered. That's a good word for it, running out of words quicker than usual, and there's apology in his voice when he starts again, quieter. "Can you just take me home?" It's a question rather than a plea - apparently begging doesn't work, not on would be heroic pixie blondes, not on doctors and nurses, and so he doesn't try it with Raquelle.
Raquelle just gives the man a small look, watching him as he starts working on getting into the rest room and he just stares with an arch of an eyebrow. "Pastor. We all go through Trial and Tribulations, yes? We have to be patient though. Most things work together for good, but you can't fix anything if you're malfunctioning yourself."
Then he nods slowly. "Yes, I will take you home. But you aren't staying alone…okay? Even if you have to call one of the church mothers. Not alone."
Patient. Said patience is being tried, with kindness of all things, and platitudes, and really it's his own fault. Joseph is silent for the duration of a moment of staring, his brow tensely furrowed and mouth pulled into a frown, because this— should be comforting. It is comforting. Finally, he states, in an effort to lighten his own mood, "I'll have my dog."
Good try. "Sorry, I'm— I haven't slept. An' that's all I'm lookin' to do when I get back. Gimme a few." Clothes, would be a great start, and so it's with that that Joseph goes to disappear into the bathroom once and for all, headed for the sinks to let the backpack drop, to fish out the white plastic bottle of meds from his pocket. Clothes, after he takes something against the numbing headache.
Raquelle holds up his hands and sighs. "Okay, fine. I'll be out here." Hands then go to his waist, even if he is holding those flowers and he just looks a bit tired, lashes fluttering and expression grim. He's not sure /how/ to help and it makes him frustrated as hell. "If you need help call me!" He calls out before leaning against the wall by the door.
Something is muttered back through wall and door, before the silence and running water before that, too, is cut out. It probably takes longer than it should, to change clothes, but perhaps he's taking his time. As you do. Eventually, however, the door creaks back open, the pastor dressed comfortable, cleanly, in the jeans and T-shirt, the coat dragged on over the top but it's certainly better than a bloodied shirt collar. His face and streaks of his hair are damp from where he'd splashed handfuls of water, in an effort to wake himself up.
So as not to, perhaps, snap at the wrong people, like the single father who dropped what he was doing to come to his rescue. There's a little bit of guilt in his demeanor when he offers the younger man a fleeting smile. "Hey." The backpack is slung over a shoulder rather than clenched awkwardly in his hands, and Joseph reaches one out to relieve Raquelle of the flowers.
Raquelle offers the flowers back and pats Joseph on the shoulder. "Hola, now lets vamos." He nods towards the exit, well the direction of the exit before offering his arm to the man. "Pride's a sin padre." A knowing smirk. "Take the arm if you need it." A wink and he prepares to walk the man out.
He doesn't so much as take offense as take the younger man's point, to which he gets the slightest of looks askance and a raised eyebrow. Preceding it is a rueful chuckle, although its direction is uncertain. With, at, or in reaction to something else entirely. "Then pray for me." All the same, Joseph does put an uncertain hand on Raquelle's arm, and just nods once as they go to leave. Both a thanks and a confirmation. Let's get outta here.
Raquelle ducks his head slightly with a small smile before he leads the way out, time to go home to the puppy dog! He hums softly, reassuringly as he makes his way along. Alas, what are friends for.