Re: The stairwell to the eighth floor, 12:03 AM.
Fist still locked around the doorknob, Joanie turned at the sound of the strange voice. It was the drunk from the stairwell. Though it was worth noting that he was the first drunk - or person, for that matter - that had ever referred to her as "child." God, was everybody in this stupid building living in some kind of weird time warp?
Wrinkling her nose, she butted her shoulder defiantly against the door. "I'm trying to get some help!" she said plainly, though there was a wild glint in her eyes. "There's a doctor on this floor, isn't there?" Releasing the doorknob, she took a step towards the shaky man. Drunk or not, if he was capable of asking her stupid questions, he was capable of telling her where to find a damn doctor. "Tell me where to find him."
Her gaze dropped to her green hands, and for a moment she felt a pang of vulnerability. Everybody was going to know about this. With a slight gasp, she crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands out of sight in her armpits. She took a shaky breath, feeling her insides shiver. Steeling herself against the fear, she scowled, taking a haughty step forward. "Now!"