Getting to the hospital was easy enough, he'd been there once after the day-trip to go demon hunting, it was a large imposing building near the town square - even more so in the bleak night hours past mid-night. He thought the place must have been abandoned at such a time, but was shocked when he found the doorway the nurse pointed out to him. One girl in her mid-twenties stood to the right like a damn guard, wand clenched in hand with her gray eyes staring straight through him. It made Fabian uneasy, and he wondered if this was what he looked like to others, it almost made him want to apologize, if so. Another two youth sat on the ground across the hall, playing a quiet game of cards, but as he stepped forward, they too watched him. All had that direct gaze, all looked as if they'd do a great deal more than kill if he even so much as looked at the girl inside wrong.
What was this about? He'd not bothered to read much into the comments about Megan Jones, the handwriting announcing her arrival not being one he recognized, but now his absence of attention was clear to have been the wrong choice.
"I'm... a friend of her mothers." He announced, not sure which of the trio to address. The girl looked to the others, who in turn turned their heads to look at a fourth- coming up the hall with a tray of biscuits and tea.
"It's alright, he's fine she knows him." The leader(?) assured the others, and just like a guard the girl turned to open the door, silent the whole while. He was going to have to catch up, and soon if the whole night was to be like this.
The room inside was just as still, the tension the 'guards' gave off seeping through the cracks to fill even the air. Fabian's eyes flicked at first to the sleeping form, a kid, a teenager perhaps and then to her mother, to Hestia standing between he and the bed-laid girl. "Hestia." He whispered, and opened his arms, dropping them out and to his side- he didn't know what else to offer and an open invitation to hold her seemed to brazen for the moment.
He looked back over to the girl in the bed again, to the gaze strips across her face, to how high they had pulled up the sheet. She looked just like Hestia, how he knew her. "Fifteen, right?" He asked, remembering their first conversation. "She alright?"