Bryant O'Neill (corpseofaction) wrote in horror_story, @ 2012-10-22 02:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | bryant, charlie, complete, cycle001 |
house call
WHO: Bryant and Charlie
WHEN: before 1PM
WHERE: Charlie's room, 209
WHAT: In the midst of dealing with all of the insanity of the day, Archer followed through on something he promised Charlie: a doctor to look at the bump on his head. Bryant's an eager to please sort of guy so he's glad to lend a hand.
WARNING: thread in progress
After the chaos overnight, after a visit from two police officers, after agreeing to share a room with Marcus, well... the rest of the morning was tame in comparison. Some of this was spent at the front desk, making sure they were well aware that he was taking on a guest in his hotel room. In an effort to get the hemming and hawing to cease, Bryant handed over his credit card again. This did get some response and even a promise that Marcus would get a key and a cot would be delivered to 315. In the midst of this, Bryant remembered his missing watch and decided to follow the advice of the night clerk he'd spoken to: he followed a lost possession's claim and asked the clerk manning the front desk to check lost and found again for him. This was done slowly and not in the best of humors for any party involved, but eventually his requests had been obliged. Bryant tipped well, mollifying some of the irritation caused by his questioning, but neither he nor the clerk walked away from the exchange fully satisfied. Breakfast had been a quiet affair and Bryant had tried to find somewhere quiet to relax and read and had... lost track of time as the morning wore on.
It might have been sheer dumb luck that caused him to cross paths with the white-haired police officer when he did. Captain Avery looked like a man of action yet was wrapped in his usual stoic demeanor, to the point where Bryant had no discernible clue what was going on. Perhaps the two representatives of law enforcement were trapped here by the storm as well? (Except Bryant was resolutely not thinking about the storm, not in the slightest, and veered away from that line of cognition hurriedly.) His exchange this time with the captain was brief and Bryant was left bemused, holding a scrap of paper torn from Archer's notebook with a name and room number on it, a request (well, an order, really, but Bryant didn't mind) to look in on a young man that had taken a spill earlier. Though he'd joked to Marcus only hours before that so many of his patients weren't breathing, Bryant was a doctor. If someone was hurt, he would help.
Archer had mentioned, just before he hurried off to do whatever it was that was so important, that the injured party was deaf. This prompted Bryant to stop off at the front desk to inquire as to what he should do to see the young man in question: surely calling ahead to the room was polite but not something Bryant had as an option right now? In the end, Bryant stopped off in his own room to collect a sizable first-aid kit before heading to the second floor. He still hadn't taken the time to shave -- it was hardly a priority -- and his rumpled russet hair didn't exactly scream 'professional.' But his blue button-down shirt and khakis were clean and neat enough and Bryant's nervous smile was bolstered by a sense of professionalism. A final glance at the paper Archer had given him and Bryant tucked it into his pocket. Shifting the kit into one hand, he lifted the other and knocked on the door to room 209, putting some force behind the action. A trifle uncertain, the large man then took a step back from the door.