Who: Angelina and OPEN When: Wednesday night Where: Pub, near Mungo's What: Ange needs a break. Rated/Status: TBD, incomplete.
It had been a rough week, for everyone. Angelina had been so busy with Ali and making sure that Katie was taking care of herself, too, that she really just hadn't dealt with it. Sure, she'd gone to Drew's funeral, done her crying there. But other than that? It just hadn't fit into her schedule. She had too much to do and take care of between Ali and Katie and work and her final exams coming up that she simply hadn't stopped to grieve.
That is, until tonight. It had been pretty standard. Rounds, patients, normal, routine. She liked it. It kept her busy. Until a little girl was rushed in, maybe seven, eight years old. Just, screaming. Severe burns, some incident with an exploding cauldron or something. The details were hazy. But she was covered in burns and half of her hair was missing and it was one of the most horrific things Angelina had ever seen here. And the girl most certainly was conscious and aware and she must be in so much pain. It hurt to think about. Why did things like this happen? Why did so many bad things happen to good people. The girl, Drew, Geoff...
"Johnson, I need all available hands in the trauma ward," her supervisor was barking, but Angelina wasn't processing it. She just lost it. Before she'd even realized it, she was backed up against the wall, arms wrapped around herself while she sobbed. One of the older witches recognized it at once, grabbed a calming draught, and dragged Angelina outside for air. "Go home, dearie," she said, once Angelina had gathered most of her wits. "We've got it covered from here. Go home and get some rest."
Angelina stayed outside for a long while, not wanting to go home. She wanted to do her job and not be a bloody wreck right now. But, come to think of it, she was starving. She wandered down the street and ducked into the first pub she found. She strolled up to the bar, yanking off her work robes and shoving them into her bag before she sat down. Her jeans and t-shirt weren't anything pretty, but she was beyond caring at this point. "I'd like a shot of rum, an ale- bottled, not tap, don't care what kind. None of that light shite. And a cheeseburger. Fries." The bartender stared at her for a moment, and Angelina glared at him. "I said I would like rum and an ale and a fucking cheeseburger, thanks," she snapped, much louder, and the bartender nodded and shuffled away. Angelina just sighed and buried her face in her hands.