O'Brien, Laney (if she wants to bring by the antibiotics!)
Oddly enough, holidays were kind of a big deal for O'Brien. If only because they were big for the entire O'Brien family. Or had been. Though Brannon and his siblings had been raised in both Missouri and New Jersey, once they were out of the house and on their own, it didn't take Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien long to move back to Kansas City. That left the O'Brien siblings with the task of traveling back and forth between wherever they lived on their own, to Kansas City, Missouri.
That was where he would have been, right now, had it not been for the outbreak. With his family. Eating mashed potatoes, among other delicious things.
Sure, he was the bachelor uncle that often had to sleep on the couch, but he actually kind of missed that. He missed his family-- and to be honest, didn't really know where all of them were, or if they were even still alive. By the time he'd made it back to Kansas City to find them, they were obviously gone. Cleared out, like everyone else in the world, it seemed.
Being dead sounded a lot better than being alive, these days, but he would be honest. He was grateful that he had stumbled into the library and survived all that had happened to him. He had met some very nice and generous people. He didn't have anyone left, that he was aware of, really-- so the congenial people that he had run into this past week, yeah, he was thankful for them.
He was still thankful for his gun too.
But he still wished that he had some mashed potatoes. Alas.
O'Brien was no longer in Quarantine, but he decided, now that he was safely back to the Library, that he would go back to the infirmary. At least he had a more comfortable place to sleep, there.
Looking past the origami swan, made out of a useless $20 dollar bill he'd found, in his hands, O'Brien focused on the woman who had been crying all evening. Something about her kid. Fortunately, she had finally fallen asleep. He was glad for it. Some other guy was coughing up what sounded like a lung, several beds over and O'Brien mad a bit of a face. Not appetizing at all.
Suddenly he was no longer in the mood for some delicious home cooked mashed potatoes.
Moving, O'Brien reached for the Pringles can to drop the newest origami swan into it. Putting the lid back on, he set it back over withe his things, slid further down into the bed, turning onto his side to lay his head against the pillow.
This wasn't the worst Thanksgiving ever, but he wished that it was better. Pulling his blanket up over his shoulders, he closed his eyes to eventually-- and hopefully drift off to sleep.