Red (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} noattachments) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} immune_ic, |
Unhappy with the attendant urging her to enter weaponless, but didn't think it was too much of a big deal. As long as no one took it from it's spot, she'd oblige to following orders. And she hated following orders, for the record. "Fine," she said, pulling the sheath from her belt and leaning it against the wall outside. "Make sure it stays there, then." She eyed the man, making sure he knew exactly what was in store for him if he let her brother's sword get stolen. Then, she proceeded inside.
It was like a scene straight out of a horror movie. Or one of those dramas where Will Smith tries to teach you the value of life by volunteering in a terminally ill ward or something. She frowned. It reeked of alcohol and death in there. Laney definitely wanted to give this guy the gun and then get the hell out as soon as possible. But did she even know what he looked like? No, she didn't. She knew what a spider looked like. And she knew what his quarantine room looked like. But that was it. She supposed, then, that she could look for someone who'd been bit recently. So that's what she did.
And it proved successful. "O'Brien?" She asked, turning the corner and coming across his bed. He looked worse for the wear, but how was someone supposed to look after they'd been through what he'd been through. Dead, probably. So in hindsight, maybe he was looking better than to be expected? Laney wasn't sure. "I have the antique," she said, getting straight to business. She didn't want to refer to it as a gun, in case it wasn't allowed. She had no idea who was watching or listening to her.
"Er...Uncle," she added for good measure, after a moment before eying the attendant by the door.