InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Nothing noble about being poor"

Red (noattachments) wrote in immune_ic,
@ 2011-11-22 16:27:00

Entry tags:

# 2011 [11] november

Who: Laney and O'Brien
What: Laney brings him a gun!
When: backdated to the 19th, around dusk
Where: the infirmary
Status: in progress
Rated: TBD

Laney walked quickly. Her last experience walking outside a safe house at night did not prove to be as successful as she'd have liked. Of course, crushing a bunch of zombies under a fire escape was good stuff, really effective. But it was pure, stinking luck, and Laney didn't think the odds would be in her favor this time-- especially where she was alone now. It was just starting to get dark, something she'd planned around her leaving. It was easier to move around unnoticed this way. No one left in Madison really cared where she went, but she wasn't sure she could say the same once she got to the infirmary. She'd never been there before, and so had no idea what was waiting for her. She wasn't even sure how she was going to get the gun in. She supposed since it didn't have a firing pin, that it'd be slightly easier to manage. But she wasn't sure.

She sighed, though stopped almost abruptly when she heard a rustle nearby. She wasn't scared though. She knew the roads probably better than anyone else, maybe save one of the Immune. She'd lived outside the safe houses for several years before finally being nearly forced inside one by Rae. She knew how to survive without help, knew the ins and outs of the city, and was skilled at escaping even the nastiest pickles. Having no one to worry about definitely had it's advantages and Laney was living proof of that. So, instead of letting any semblance of fear take over and make her clumsy, she simply drew her sword and kept walking.

It wasn't long until she made it. The safe house infirmary he was located in wasn't terribly guarded. But there were people there, for obvious reasons. Briefly, she wondered if she should get the large bump on her eyebrow looked at. It hadn't bled since she'd gone to bed the night before. But it was painful.

"No," she said to herself, out loud. She was going there for one thing. And that was to bring a desperate man a gun. Smiling, she approached one of the people standing around. She wasn't sure if it was a doctor, a nurse, or a guard. Though, judging by the fact that they weren't armed, she figured it was one of the former. "Um, hi," she said. "I'm here to visit my, uh. Uncle. He was moved from Quarantine recently, to here. Can I see him?" The person, a man, looked at her suspiciously. "Leave your sword outside," he said finally, before pointing her in O'Brien's direction.

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detectiveobrien
2011-11-23 04:54 am UTC (link)

To be honest, O'Brien really hadn't expected Laney to show up with the gun that supposedly didn't even work. When she had said that it didn't work, it made him less hopeful than he had originally been, but that didn't mean he didn't want to, at least, try and fix it. He knew a little about guns, he was sure he could try.

And though he didn't expect Laney to show up, he was getting ready-- or planning to sneak out of the infirmary later that night. If he felt like it. He just seriously needed to find a working gun, first. His own preferably.

The infirmary that he was in, was at the New York Public Library. That's where he'd stumbled into after he'd been shot and attacked. Thankfully, he was no longer locked in a tiny room by himself. But he didn't know what was worse, being alone with nothing more than his thoughts, or being in the same room with people who sounded like they were on the verge of death, based on their coughing fits, and the people that had been injured when escaping the infected.

The only reason he was still in the infirmary, was because he wasn't doing so great thanks to the gunshot wound. He'd lost a lot of blood, and now the wound was infected, and he was in need of antibiotics. He spent a lot of time passed out or sleeping.But the four bites that he had sustained from the infected were healing pretty good. They were still gross looking, from what he could see, but they were doing okay.

He was currently sitting up on the edge of his bed, having just finished eating the disgusting chocolate pop-tarts they'd brought him, and deciding it was time to put on one of his new shirts from Lilly, he'd pulled off the blood-stained undershirt he'd had since arriving, and busied himself with carefully shrugging the blue dress shirt up onto his shoulders.

He was easily distracted sometimes too, and before he knocked them off into the floor, he had stopped to take a moment and put all of the various sizes of origami swans back into the empty Pringles can that he kept them in. And for the record, no, he wasn't crazy.

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SORRY this took me so long. I am made of FAIL. >>

noattachments
2011-12-06 10:33 pm UTC (link)

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.

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