White Days


delia_icon.gif evan_icon.gif felix_icon.gif quinn_icon.gif roderick_icon.gif thalia_icon.gif

Scene Title White Days
Synopsis In the dropping temperatures and rising amounts of snow, a handful of strangers find refuge in St. Luke's Hospital
Date May 6, 2010

St. Luke's Hospital

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 blizzard has taken a turn for the worse, the weather dipping to temperatures that can freeze a person to death in minutes. St. Luke's has called in extra personnel, the ones the budget can afford to keep. This includes volunteers such as Delia. With nothing better to do, she has donned a set of scrubs and accepted the ride to the hospital to take some hours in the E.R.

Ten Hours Later

Finally taking a break, Delia sits in the crowded waiting room with a vending machine sandwich. She's been put on light duty, assessing the patients that come in and trying to find space for those just wanting to get out of the cold. So she sits at the door, in a large coat, trying to keep warm as she eats her sandwich and directs the traffic.

Her boots clunk on the floor as she moves around people and tries not to push them out of her way. She has a lot on her mind, especially with Ash's earlier visit. But as of right this moment, survival comes first and that's exactly what was on her mind as she enters the hospital.

Dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a dark red sweater, her heavy leather jacket is zipped up and she sighs as she shakes a few strands of hair out of her baby blue eyes. Clutching her messenger bag to her, in it the new phone given to her by the beefy man along with the red scarf and also other supplies that Thalia thought she'd need.

"Well.. this is great." She mutters to herself and shakes her head. That's when a kid comes up to her and tugs at her jacket. "Do you know where my mommy is?" he asks softly with a tilt of his head. "Sorry kid.. I don't.. I wish I had mine too though.." she adds quietly as she catches a nurse's attention to help the little kid. She has a heart too…

Search and rescue really isn't his job. But nonetheless, it's what he ends up tapped for. Fel's a figure shrouded in insulated clothing, muffled head to toe, part of a team that's come in after finding a lost child - she's a warm little bundle on a sled, which they hand off. He's staggeringly tired as he breaks off from the others, who end up revealed as NYPD, and doesn't look back as he peels off hat and goggles and coat, to drop bonelessly into a seat, and put his face in his hands.

"Hey… " Comes a rather sharp voice, after a bitterly cold blast of wind. "You… red headed chickie." As rather short man has stumbled through the door, thank god for sliders. Hands clenched tight, though gloved, he holds them against his chest as he looks down at Delia. "Help a bloke out, eh?" He has on a black knit cap, his mess of straw colored hair sticking out at odd angles from under the cap. His jaw covered with much darker scruff of hair.

"It damn well hurts to move my fingers." Pulling his hands away from his chest, there is a wince as Roderick works to straighten his fingers, teeth clenched as he does. "Dunno what in bloody hell is going on, but this can't very well be any good." A worried glance goes to the girl.

Robyn Quinn was one of those people seeking to get in from the cold, having been stranded by friends across town, and now the snow was too thick for her to continue her way back home, much less with the acoustic guitar she would have to lug through the snow. So here she was, stuck in quite possibly one of the last places she wanted to be as the storm raged outside. It didn't help that the battery on her iPod had just died.

Letting out a sigh, Quinn looks up from her spot, hanging upside down in a chair not far from the door with her gathering on the floor below. She was even considering breaking out the guitar and seeing how long it was until someone yelled at her for being too loud, but instead it's the guy who plops down next to her that catches her attention. As he buries hands in his face, her quirks an eyebrow.

"You look bored as I am," she jokes, grinning.

"I wasn't trying to step on your foot, I was just trying to play my game and then she pushed me! God!" This particular rant is coming from a teenage boy, the oldest of three siblings, whose outnumbered mother is visibly tired enough that she just slumps back and waits for them to run out of steam on their own. Before they get any further, though, the dad finally emerges from the crowd and hustles them off with a series of fear-of-parent death glares.

A couple of seats over, Evan spares the family a glance as they make good their departure - then, hearing a new voice nearby, turns the other direction to regard Quinn and Felix. "Careful what you wish for," he offers, deadpan. "Looks like he's had an even more interesting day than that bunch who just left, and believe me, that's saying something."

The young woman takes another bite of the vending machine egg salad and chews it as the child is passed off toward the information station. When they come to collect the one on the sled, the volunteers gather up the little one tugging on Thalia's jacket. She flickers a beleaguered smile to the search and rescue worker that's so recently collapsed into the chair nearby and next to the warming teen.

It's the one calling for her attention that actually gets it, she frowns a little and drops her clipboard and sandwich onto the stool to move toward him. "Come over here, we'll get you something warm to drink." She takes the man's hands gently and lets them go almost immediately in favor of place her hands on either one of his shoulders to guide him toward her stool. "Don't rub your hands, whatever you do… Looks like frostbite. We'll take care of it."

The air around Thalia, or in the room actually would begin to feel a little warmer for everyone. So that people can be more comfortable. This display of power isn't enough to make her eyes change and draw attention so it's a safe thing for her to do.

The mechanic looks over at Delia and Roderick, "Yeesh, hope your hand turns out okay." She says to the Englishman and then she's stretching her arms out above her and she's looking around. Nothing really to do, so she sits on one of the chairs. Next to Felix and the others actually.

She doesn't really engage in the conversation, she stares ahead. Head tilted.

Quinn gets flashed a gallows grin, as the Russian lifts face from hands. Fel's angular face, whipped into color by the chill and the sting of the wind, is fading back into his usual pallor. He peels off his watchcap, lets it drop into his lap, and then flops back, boneless, as if he'd sleep right here and now. And then off come the glasses, and he's wiping at the tears - just a reaction to the cold and the dryness, rather than any expression of sorrow, but his eyes are leaking like crazy nonetheless. "Interesting might be the word," he agrees. "In the Chinese curse sense of the phrase, if you know what I mean?"

"Frostbite?!" Is yelped out, Roderick's blue eyes widen slightly. "Nooo… nonono. I can't get frostbite." He complains rather loudly as he directed towards the stool. He looks down at his gloved hands really worried now. "You tellin' me my soddin' fingers are gonna fall off? I've seen it in movies."

His hands are pulls closer to himself, looking stubborn suddenly, "I don't think I want to see what's under the gloves. What if it is all black and…" His face suddenly looks pale. "I think I'm gonna be ill. I need my fingers."

"Oh?" Quinn responds, even as the blood begins to rush to her head. She groans and begins to awkwardly shift herself, sliding out of her chair as she turns in a very unusual manner - and ultimately fails as she slips out of her seat and slips to the ground with a thud, followed almost immediately by her guitar case falling from the seat beside her and to the floor. A curse escapes her mouth as she blushes, looking back up with an embarrassed smile.

"Um, sorry about that," she continues as she stands back up, grabbing the case. "A curse sounds 'bout right," she says, her Irish accent becoming more apparent the more she speaks. " 's the only reason I can think that everything out there's gone all to pot," she comments as she sits back down, beginning to drum her fingers.

"Ah!" The dull thud of the case against the ground startles Evan into leaning forward, barely still sitting on the edge of his chair. "Ancient Narnian curse is more like it. Somebody ought to put a team together and go look for talking lions."

"Oh, and—" Squinting at Felix, he spots something that by all rights shouldn't be obvious yet, and pauses for just a moment - frowning at the implications of all that, and the lack of anyone to unload his thoughts to. "I noticed you favoring that leg a bit," he continues, pointing, "better keep an eye on it. Last thing this place needs tonight is another fracture."

"They won't fall off sir, that doesn't happen as long as you can still feel them." Delia runs off for a moment and returns with a cup of hot tea, though weak, it's still warm. Taking a pair of shears from her pocket, she takes one of his hands and holds them next to the glove. "I hope you don't mind losing the gloves, but I don't want to pull them off until I see what's underneath them."

With a surgeon's precision, she gingerly begins to clip the material. "Just hold still, everything's going to be alright…" her voice is calm and quite soft as she works to remove the glove. "Hold the cup with your free hand and keep drinking, it'll warm you up faster." Then skin that's exposed is red and quite cold, with patches of white throughout. "See it's not so bad, just a little touch."

Holding that hand between the two of hers, she holds it firmly between her two palms. Very carefully, she raises his hand and breathes some hot air onto his hand. It's likely painful, very much so, but slowly the white patches disappear.

"Don't worry man, no shrieking." Thalia says to Roderick and she crosses her legs. "I feel ya pain, these hands fix all manner of motors and cars. Without them.. I'd be poor." Not really true, but she can still sympathize. The dark haired woman looks over to Quinn as she falls over and a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Careful there, little mouse."

Thus a nickname is given to the young musician. Thalia watches Delia work on Roderick's hand and she decides to get up and grab a cup of water. The water fountain being right next to the pair. "I think you're in good hands there." She nods her head at Delia with a light grin.

Evan's comment earns one of those chuckles from Felix, rusty as a graveyard gate. "I know, right. Always winter, never Christmas," he says, with a sigh, even as he slips from his seat to help Quinn back up. "You okay there, lady?" he wonders of her - the accent's pure Brooklynese. To Evan himself, he explains, offhandedly, "Got shot there. It's okay now, though. Healed up."

"Of course, I feel them… They fuckin' hurt." Roderick sounds a touch upset, glancing away as she starts to cut at the gloves. He just knows it'll be all black underneath, but it also gives him a chance to glare at Thalia. "What do I look like? A Nancy boy?!" Someone is cranky. "I… don't… shriek."

Of course, the moment she thrust a burning cup of something into one hand and takes his other between scalding hands, Roderick can't help but say the following… "Ggghuhahhh… it's hot.. it fuckin' hot… Ow ow ow." The cup is almost dropped, but he manages to lean over to put it on the floor while, complaining, "What did you do swallow a heater, blimey."

Quinn whips her head back and hair out of her face as Felix helps her back upright. A response forms, but is left unsaid as she instead glances back to Thalia. "Little Mouse? Huh, that's not a bad name?" she comments, drifting off for a moment as she sits back down, fingers drumming more. Shaking her head, she looks over at Fenix. "Fine, thanks," she responds, grinning as she offers a hand. "Quinn. Nice to me 'ya. Sorry to 'ear about your leg."

"Oh come on, admit it," Thalia leans in towards Roderick and winks, "You totally shrieked." She says with a grin and then she's focusing back towards Quinn and the others. "Little Mouse is a excellent name."

A wicked grin crosses her face as she says, "And so is Nancy Boy." She chuckles but then holds her hands up. "Sorry there. Just kidding." Thalia offers her hand and then instead pats Roderick on the back. "Name's Thalia."

Nodding to Felix, Evan leans back again, leaning back and wrapping his arms around himself. His sweater and jeans are noticeably ill-fitting - he's got others that have seen a lot of use lately, but with such a simple thing as laundry being a pain in the ass, he's had to dig into the I-should-really-donate-these clothing pile as well. But it's the least of anyone's concerns today, and he knows it, wincing sympathetically as Roderick's stiff upper lip is pushed to the breaking point.

Ignoring the man's complaints, Delia keeps working on his hands. Releasing the one that's been thawed out, she gently takes the cup from the Roderick's hands and passes it over to his newly freed one. Then she begins to cut the glove off his other hand. "The fact that they hurt means that you're not going to lose them. Good news, right?"

This hand doesn't look nearly as bad as the other, mostly red from cold with only a spot or two of white. Proceeding with the same caution, she presses his palm between her own and begins to breathe gently on his hand. Between breaths, she gives Thalia a warm smile before looking back at Roderick. "You'll be feeling right as rain in about five minutes or so, sir… Not even a bit of skin lost. Next time, you need to think about mittens instead of gloves. With your fingers all together you keep more of your body heat."

The Fed shrugs, and it's dismayingly nonchalant. "It's happened before. I'm okay now, though." He hands Quinn back to her chair, and reclaims his own, still in tthat spineless slouch of utter exhaustion. Once he's out of his cocoon of cold-weather gear, he's painfully in, in t-shirt and jeans and big boots, still sprawled as if trying to catch his breath.

"Oh sod off, I did not shriek." Roderick gripes, the small British man shifting uncomfortably on the stool, shoulders slumped, looking rather miserable. But at least he's polite enough to grumble a reluctant and irritated. "Roderick." To Thalia. "And you…" to the redhead he adds, even as the cup is placed into his other hand. "Don' call me, sir. Makes me look for my father."

"Mittens?" Both brows lift at that, Roderick looks unconvinced, before he takes a reluctant drink from the cup, nose wrinkling a bit. He eyes the contents of the cup, like a little kid eyes his vegetables, as he adds blandly. "Maybe…" Not exactly said in a convincing manner.

Quinn frowns at the response, a bit surprised by the nonchalantness he takes to, well, having been shot. Offering a glance over the man who seemingly didn't have frostbite (or something, she wasn't really paying attention), curious as to exactly what was going off over there - but it was a hospital, she shouldn't be that surprised by someone actually getting help. She looks back to Felix, and shrugs. "Well, as long as it doesn't get you down."

"Nice to meet ya." Thalia says and then she's walking away and out of the hallway, time to find somewhere quiet to relax. That shall be an adventure in itself. And with that, Thal has left the room.

Evan scratches his head, giving Felix another once-over. The fact that he got shot once and is cool with it, well, he probably has an epic story that's now safely in the past. Multiple times? That suggests that he's in a dangerous line of work— which would explain why he was helping out earlier, it's in his blood. "NYPD?" he guesses out loud.

"Yep, mittens," the young redhead says with a chipper tone in her voice. She gives him a smile as she moves off and picks up her sandwich again. Looking down at the rather unappetizing thing, she takes another bite and chews it quickly before swallowing and continuing. "Trust me, get a thick pair of wooly mittens, your hands will thank you for it." Then she scoops up her clipboard again and looks around the waiting room. Most of the people who haven't been looked after already seem to be just keeping warm in their repsective chairs and waiting for their names to be called for free beds.

"It did at the time, believe you me," replies Felix, stretching with feline luxuriance, hands over his head, toes stretched out, before he collapses back down on himself, into that curl. "I've had it happen before. It'll happen again," he says, with cheerful fatalism. And then he nods at Evan, even as he takes off his glasses, polishes them with a scrap of cloth. "Used to be. Now I'm FBI, but I work with 'em, still…."

"Thanks…" Roderick manages in mumbled gratitude, both hands now carefully wrapped around his cup. It still stings, but at least it doesn't hurt like it did. The small man eyes the redhead before he pushes to his feet, freeing her stool, and wanders further into the hospital.

He's here, Roderick might as well be nosy.

"FBI?" Quinn repeats, her frown thinning a bit. "I imagine you must be 'avin a hell of a time out there, then," she remarks, slinking back in her chair in a manner similar to Felix's. Lazily, she reaches over to the seat where her guitar lays, poping open the claps and flipping it open, revealing a bright red wooden guitar, a notebook sitting on top of it. She doesn't both the latch it back shut as she removes the notebook, glancing back up at Felix.

The young redhead retakes her seat on the stool near the conversing pair, her eyes wandering to the bright red guitar. It's rather eyecatching and she stares at it lost for a little while before blinking rapidly and giving its owner an apologetic smile. "Sorry for staring… it's a nice guitar." Lowering her head, she looks down at her clipboard and then over to the triage desk where she receives a nod from one of the nurses. Then, standing, she calls out, "Campbell… David Campbell!"

When the young man stands, she gives him a reassuring smile and walks over to him. "The doctor's ready for you now, let's get you fixed up." Then she leads him to a set of magnetically locked double doors. Punching the key in, she waits for them to swing open before disappearing behind them with the patient.

"That's a good way of putting it," says Fel, tucking his chin to his chest, crossing his arms, and stretching out his feet, like he's quite prepared to sleep right there. "I…..I've been back in the city for almost two years now. It never lets up." He sounds ….matter of fact, rather than depressed about it.

Somewhat surprisingly, Quinn snickers at the statement as she jots something down in the notebook - the word "Whiteout" can be clearly seen at the top, but the rest is obscured by eraser marks and her own arm. "The snow, or the other crap?" she replies, sounding quite proud of her little joke. She leans back a bit, tap tap tap tap with the pencil on the paper. "Hopefully, it won't be much longer. Snow can only fall so long, right?"

"All the rest of it. This is just kind of the icing on the cake," says Fel, and there's that dullness to his tone. Like he really has seen it all. And then he heaves himself up, ungracefully, slipping on floors made slick with melt. "I gotta crash," he says, scrubbing at his eyes. "Sorry to be abrupt…"

"Oh, uh, no problem. I guess." A long sigh escapes Quinn's lips, a frown returning to her face. "Great. Now this place is going to get all boring again…" Glancing over at the guitar case, she tosses the notebook back inside of it and latches it shut. It looked like her iPod had charged just enough to get her home, at least, and she was warm now. Pulling her ehadphones back up over her ears, she jumps up. "Hope to see you again!" she yells as she makes her way towards the door, hoping to at least get closer to home. You know, what did he even say his name was…?

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