[It's been a rough end of the month for Charles. Between the struggle of being one of the few left propping Haven up throughout the storm, Kyle's death and return, and Tim's struggle to handle his panic over their mutual partner's death, he's not sleeping well. He's not worrying about Kyle (as much) any more, but there's still work to be done now that the storm's released the city from its clutches.
Things were damaged by the supernatural cold, and the fluctuating power's inability to sustain machinery and systems that require stability. Patients who suffered when the power went out, are now being supported back to stability in the ICU. Samples in the laboratory are spoiled, and need to be redrawn and tested again. People are all still recovering from the emergency that had, once again, made everyone in the city powerless in a way Charles still resents bitterly -- and resents himself for, too. He hadn't been prepared at all for any of it. A gross error on his part, particularly after the earthquake that had rocked the hospital a year ago. He's reeling from the arbitrary cruelty of all of it, and the non-stop frenetic activity of being on his feet for what now feels like over a week.
It's difficulty and weight that must continue to be pushed through and handled as it comes. He sees no other option in any of it. Kyle needs the time to process dying dragging back the trauma of his other deaths, and enough of Haven's staff are also still recovering from friends and loved ones having died, or from having died themselves. The people left standing on their feet, need to stay that way for the sake of everyone else.
So, when a call lights up the triage while the lone on-duty nurse is taking a break, Charles picks it up. He shifts his other hand to rub at the headache pulling tight behind his eyes.
There's no opportunity to offer a greeting.]
D'Artagnan? [An uncomfortable twist of dull, old, and grudging irritation hits his stomach as the caller registers to him. Charles takes it for granted that this man didn't mean to call him, and also quickly assumes D'Artagnan wouldn't have wanted to reach him, either.
But he knows immediately what the man means by 'liberation centre'. More than likely, D'Artagnan's not in a good state right now. Especially when this came after the difficulties of the storm. In light of that, there's a swell of sympathy, and Charles starts trying to marshal some of his less agreeable feelings about the other man aside.]
It's Charles Saville; I'll come, [his tone is completely willing, and determined] I only need ten minutes to leave things here in the right hands.
[It's not a question of whether he should. This man may need help, and he's in a position to offer it. Lingering confusion, and distaste for the man's assumed disrespectful and excessively prideful nature, aren't at all acceptable or good reasons to not reach out his hand.]
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Things were damaged by the supernatural cold, and the fluctuating power's inability to sustain machinery and systems that require stability. Patients who suffered when the power went out, are now being supported back to stability in the ICU. Samples in the laboratory are spoiled, and need to be redrawn and tested again. People are all still recovering from the emergency that had, once again, made everyone in the city powerless in a way Charles still resents bitterly -- and resents himself for, too. He hadn't been prepared at all for any of it. A gross error on his part, particularly after the earthquake that had rocked the hospital a year ago. He's reeling from the arbitrary cruelty of all of it, and the non-stop frenetic activity of being on his feet for what now feels like over a week.
It's difficulty and weight that must continue to be pushed through and handled as it comes. He sees no other option in any of it. Kyle needs the time to process dying dragging back the trauma of his other deaths, and enough of Haven's staff are also still recovering from friends and loved ones having died, or from having died themselves. The people left standing on their feet, need to stay that way for the sake of everyone else.
So, when a call lights up the triage while the lone on-duty nurse is taking a break, Charles picks it up. He shifts his other hand to rub at the headache pulling tight behind his eyes.
There's no opportunity to offer a greeting.]
D'Artagnan? [An uncomfortable twist of dull, old, and grudging irritation hits his stomach as the caller registers to him. Charles takes it for granted that this man didn't mean to call him, and also quickly assumes D'Artagnan wouldn't have wanted to reach him, either.
But he knows immediately what the man means by 'liberation centre'. More than likely, D'Artagnan's not in a good state right now. Especially when this came after the difficulties of the storm. In light of that, there's a swell of sympathy, and Charles starts trying to marshal some of his less agreeable feelings about the other man aside.]
It's Charles Saville; I'll come, [his tone is completely willing, and determined] I only need ten minutes to leave things here in the right hands.
[It's not a question of whether he should. This man may need help, and he's in a position to offer it. Lingering confusion, and distaste for the man's assumed disrespectful and excessively prideful nature, aren't at all acceptable or good reasons to not reach out his hand.]