Upon hearing another voice — a male one, at that — Darcy whirled toward the sound, relief washing over her tear-stricken face. She let out a huff and reached up to wipe her eyes, taking in the look of him as she did so.
"Oh, thank God," she breathed, approaching him. He looked professional, if not a little out of place. Seemed odd to see a guy wearing what looked like some kind of military garb in a place so sterile, it looked like a hospital. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to go searching for the staff on my own and end up getting lost or something. Listen, sir...I just woke up here and...got this note thanking me for volunteering for some study and I just..." she paused and wiped her face again, taking a deep breath and shivering a little at the thought of such an ungodly big screw up.
"There's been a big mistake. I didn't volunteer for this. I have to get back to London before I'm too far along to fly," she explained, resting her hand on her baby bump without even realizing she was doing it. The twins in and of themselves, especially turning out to be boys were enough of a stressor right now and she knew that stressing out was bad for both her and the babies. She couldn't very well stay in this place and add to it.
Darcy had assumed she wasn't in London anymore, because none of the doctor's offices she'd visited had been this cold and sterile; it reminded her very much of psychiatric wards on American movies. Her concern was outwardly for the babies she was carrying but, mainly, it was for herself. She needed and wanted to go back to the comfort of Ethan's flat and the sooner, the better.
"So, I don't know what I need to do, or what you need to do, or whatever, but can you please help me?" she asked as sincerely and calmly as she could make her frightened and angry voice level out to do so.