Micah Castro Braden // Doctor Watson, I presume (acatalyst) wrote in bellumlogs,
Later, outside Hôpital Salpêtrière
Micah had spent a better part of the evening aiding the sick, and he'd finally been led by his fellow altruists to the Hôpital Salpêtrière. Micah had already figured out where they were (and even if he hadn't, he knew a revolution when he saw one), and the realization only made him more impressed by the medical facility once he stepped foot inside.
The building was huge, the patient count larger than any hospital he'd ever been in - teaching or otherwise. It was filled with patients in the thousands, plus special areas for prostitutes and prisoners. It served as a jail prison, and on the eve of July 14th, it was filled to capacity.
By the time Micah had stepped outside for some air that wasn't stifled and sickly, he was dressed in snug cream trousers and a white linen shirt that he had rolled back over his forearms. Many of the people inside spoke Spanish, but he quickly realized that relations between Spain and France must be strained during this time period, because people were hesitant to respond to him in that language. He had kept his mouth shut, and he had worked. Watson, in his head, approved. No one will question someone who can save their lives, my boy, he'd said, and of course he'd been right. No one had.
From where he stood, he could still hear the battle, but the steps to the hospital were a little removed, and he could take a moment to think about how the hell he was going to find everyone from Bellum in this mess. He hoped Iris, wherever she was, was safe (she was smart, though, his Iris, and he knew she could take care of herself here, no matter how much he tried to protect her at home.) Joanie and Cole, however, worried him - even Pedro, with his eternal optimism, was a concern.