RP: Inventory Characters: Simon Time/Date: Evening, September 11 Location: Infirmary Warnings/Rating: None Summary: Simon inventories and contemplates making a request Status: Closed
Missing toes, stab wounds, broken arms. Late night wake-ups in rooms that weren't his. People who didn't check in regularly and weren't healing as fast as they could. Yes, it was just like home -- with fewer bullet wounds.
For now, anyway, he reflected as he sorted through the drawers of supplies. He was trying to instate some sort of system of organization since -- as far as he knew -- he was the only doctor on the premises. If there was another one since House had left, he or she hadn't made it known to him. He'd also like to think he'd notice if someone else was using the infirmary.
Moving a set of pre-prepared hypodermic needles to a drawer, he sorted them according to what they were, wishing he had a proper set of drawer dividers. But as long as he was wishing, he may as well wish for a proper infirmary instead of one in a hotel room. A nice hotel room, but a hotel room all the same.
He supposed he shouldn't complain. He had supplies enough to tend to everything he'd come across -- so far. He dreaded the time he needed a drug or a piece of equipment he didn't have readily available ... but the last time they'd been attacked, they'd been gifted with adequate supplies.
Humming under his breath, Simon continued to arrange the room to his liking.