TakeTheRedForWhatIt'sWorth;;Christopher

[Alexander Octavius Hartman]

August 12th, 5pm.

Just once, Alex would like to wake up at some other moment than in the middle of a crisis. One time. Just one. This wasn’t an option, of course; he’d be totally unnecessary if not for the sake of traumatic events. But then, it wasn’t like he’d mind that so much either. The only trouble with his waking was that it wasn’t like Alexander was the only one of them that blacked out while somebody else was ‘awake’- their conciousness existed in layers, and he could only experience things through himself and Alexander. So he’d get the pleasure of coming to consciousness expecting the worst, and have to figure out what the hell was even going on.

Today’s series of unfortunate events, as far as he could understand it, stemmed from the fact that Xander had control for too long. With Xander in charge, they were in danger of falling off the face of the earth- mainly because he was trying very hard to push them in that general direction. Never outright, of course, not since their hospitalization earlier that year. Today’s nudge had come in the form of a slew of cuts running up their arms, which happened to be deep enough that they were bleeding profusely, as luck would have it. Sometime after the act he assumed Alexander had pushed his way to the front of their mind- and immediately fallen back when he caught sight of all that red dripping onto their bathroom floor. The teen had never been too comfortable with blood, though Alex’s only feeling on the matter was that he hoped Vital slipped in it- oh, and right now it’d be kinda neat if he could keep it inside their body.

In an effort toward that last thought, he’d grabbed a longsleeved black hoodie to hide the damage- also maybe sop up some of the spilling, which had thankfully begun to slow- and headed down toward the medical wing. Alex knew they were going to get put on one those damn restriction lists and get labeled and poked at and questioned and have privileges cut but if this sort of bullshit was happening then maybe that was for the better. Aside, he was pretty worried about the bloody mess he’d woken up to, and didn’t know how to safely take care of it. He assumed he was making the right choice as he stepped through the doors, at least knowing he’d be in a good area if he passed out; a looming possibility, being that he was starting to verge on light headed. Nonetheless he took steady steps over to what seemed to be the main desk- he had no idea, he’d not yet had serious need of this particular facility- and gripped the edge of it with rapidly paling hands as he leaned forward to mumble to the person who occupied the seat behind it.

“We…uh, I need medical attention.”

Tags;;Christopher
Words;;488
Notes;;Still getting used to the feel of him, sorry about the not-greatness of the post!
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[Christopher Matthew Evans]

It had been a long day for Chris, and it was not over yet. He'd gotten up at 5:00 am. Why? Because he liked to go for a run before work. And he'd allotted time to ride his bike to work instead of taking a car. He had a car, but preferred to only drive it when the weather was bad, or he was working the late shift at the nurses station. As it was, it would not be that late out when he got off at 7pm. The only downside to working a 7am to 7pm shift was that he knew he'd be tired. But he'd rather be tired on his bike where pedaling, and the cool outside air would help him to stay awake, than in a car. Maybe it had to do with his past. No. He knew it had to do with his past. Truthfully, at times he still had panic attacks in cars to this day.

He had two more hours to go, though he was trying not to think about it for fear of jinxing it. Chris wanted to get home, see his sister, have some dinner, play some video games to unwind, and get some sleep. It hadn't been an especially easy day, but he'd had worse. In his mind nothing was harder or more stressful than working in an emergency room, which is where he had been employed before coming to St. Helena's There were parts he missed, and parts he did not miss. One thing he was certain of though, it had prepared him to work anywhere, taught him to always be on his toes, and expect the unexpected. Right now though, everything was peaceful. There was soft music playing from a nearby radio, he was reading a book, and drinking some coffee. He'd lost track earlier that day what cup he was on.

Chris knew it would not last long. It never did. In his experience when quiet came, something urgent would not be far behind. Out of his peripheral vision, Chris noticed a young man approaching the desk, and looked up giving him a small smile. Then the boy spoke, and Chris went into work mode, knowing that something was wrong, became serious, and focused. Chris quickly set down his book, not bothering to take the time and mark the page, before he hurriedly got up from his chair, and grabbed a pair of gloves. He made his way around the desk, snapping the gloves on his hands as he walked. “Where are you hurt?” Chris asked calmly, looking the boy over, trying to asses what his injuries were. ”What happened?” He noticed how pale the boy was, how tightly he was gripping the counter,and worried he might pass out before he had the chance to tell Chris what was wrong. Then he'd be working blind, as Chris did not recognize the student before him. Which, being as he was not a teacher, or counselor, and only tended to see students when they came to the medical wing for medical attention, did not shock him. He moved closer, ready to catch the boy, if he needed too.

OUTFIT

[Alexander Octavius Hartman]

Alex watched him warily as he got up and approached, trying not to flinch back from his sudden closeness. Of all of them, he hated people the most; they did nothing but bring suffering, in his limited experience. Medical personnel were less so than others, more like a background to him than actual human beings he had to be interacting with- truthfully, it was usually his place to deal with the sorts of serious injuries which required medical assistance. He felt less uncomfortable speaking with them than, say, a peer. But the close contact Chris would require produced an itchy feeling beneath his skin, a need to bolt and preserve their safety, even if he knew it was counter-intuitive.

”I’m Bleeding,” Alex noted, steeling himself as he turned a bit to face Chris, his tailbone leaning against the countertop while he struggled out of his increasingly sticky sweater. ”I, uh, can we go somewhere else? I don’t want to…to drip…” the teen trailed off, holding the sweater close to his chest, pressing his bleeding arms into it rather than showing them to the nurse before him like he should have. He reveled in the slight stinging sensation that pushing the open wounds against the fabric brought, knowing it meant he was present and alive. It was always a strange sensation, being in the back of Alexander’s mind; knowing but not seeing, not feeling, nothing. So while he minded the pain on some level, the fact that it was his place to take care of and the main reason he ever came out in the first place, Alex was far less bothered by it than most.

”I don’t know a lot about it, I can’t give you any specifics,” Alex frowned, swallowing thickly. His mouth had gone dry and he felt a little out of sorts, like his movements took half a beat to catch up with his brain. It was a strange sensation, not altogether unpleasant, but probably unhealthy. He stumbled through the motion of uncurling his arms, holding them out toward Chris, his sweater falling out of the fingers he couldn’t seem to get to hold onto the damn thing. ”I don’t know how long it’s been, even. I just…I think it’s starting to slow, but I don’t know- I’ve never held onto medical information, I don’t want to get infected or something…” He semi-rambled. He was sure all of this lack of information seemed suspicious, not figuring Christopher would know anything about them or their hodgepodge existence in Alexander’s head. He probably just assumed he was a cutter who didn’t want to talk, but Alex was pretty sure he’d run into things which were both stranger and more horrific in this particular facility.

Tags;;Christopher
Words;;474
Notes;;Little bit better! :]
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[Christopher Matthew Evans]

He watched the student take off his sweatshirt after the kid informed him he was bleeding. Yeah, Chris could see that alright. ”Yeah, follow me,” he said to the teen and led him around the desk. As he walked he glanced back, not because he thought the kid might leave, he was there willingly. But, because he was worried he might pass out, and fall. Moving further back into the nurses station, where patients that did not need serious, or over night were tended too, Chis motioned to a chair and said, ”Have a seat, I'm going to go get supplies to take care of your cuts. His voice was calm. A nurse or doctor that freaked out did not reassure patients. And it wasn't like Chris was still in nursing school, he had years of experience. Besides, if he ever ran into something he knew he could not handle, or was not trained to deal with, he knew Zar and his sister were only a phone call away.

He waited until the teen had taken a seat, and walked over to the supplies. Chris grabbed disinfectant to clean the wounds so they did not get infected, and bandages to wrap them. To help the cuts stay clean and dry. Making his way back over to the student, Chris gave him a small smile. He wanted to seem non threatening to the student. Being in some one's personal space, having to touch them, was not something some people liked. Probably something most people did not like, especially medical personnel. Setting down the supplies on a nearby table, Chris sat down on a stool with wheels. ”My name's Chris Evans, I'm the nurse on duty tonight. Can you tell me your name?” he asked, knowing the boy had said he couldn't give specifics. Without knowing why the boy was at St. Helena's Chris figured he needed to check, make sure the kid knew who he was, where he was, basic things That way Chris would know there was not something more serious going on. He opened up a few packages to start, not knowing exactly how many he would need, but once something was open and no longer sterile they could not put it back. Can you hold out an arm for me? I'm going to clean the cuts and then dress them in bandages. It might sting a little bit,” he said looking at the teen waiting for him to comply.

[Alexander Octavius Hartman]

Alex followed him in silence, grateful for the lack of questioning or apparent outward concern. It made him less anxious for the people he was dealing with to be on the calmer side, and it was never particularly good for any of them to be anxious. He flopped unceremoniously into the chair he was motioned toward, still holding his arms up in front of his chest, elbows bent, cuts facing inward. The motion was almost defensive, Not that he was trying particularly toward that end. It was subconscious, reflexive, his mind telling their body to hide injuries and keep them from escalating. He straightened slightly as Chris approached, eyeing the medical supplies which he’d retrieved. It didn't look like it was going to be anything too serious, and Alex felt a rush of relief flooding his system. He'd be out of here soon, if this was any indication; shaken, sure, but not in mortal peril.

”I’m Alex O’Dell,” he responded instantly to the questioning. It was a name, that’s all- it shouldn’t be that hard, right? But it was always a challenge. Alexander was originally Alexander O’Dell, and that meant he was Alex O’Dell. Then Alexander had gotten adopted, and that switched him to Alexander Hartman- but Alex was still an O’Dell, that hadn’t changed for him. Why should it? They’d adopted Alexander, not him or any of the others. Xander, for his part, went solely by Xander like he was some sort of ridiculous pop star or something. But he'd probably be a Hartman- as far as he was concerned, their fourth personality hadn't appeared until Alexander was a Hartman. Andy was probably an O’Dell if he was anything, but it wasn’t like Alex could ask him.

”Wait, I mean, Alexander Hartman,” he amended suddenly, realizing that was the name Chris would probably need if he ended up looking into their medical history for some reason. He groaned inwardly, sure that was incredibly confusing for another person to have to deal with out of the blue. It would be so much easier if he could just walk around with like, a sign taped to him that said ‘HEY, THERE ARE FOUR OF ME. GOOD LUCK.’ He complied to Chris’s instruction to hold out his arms, unbending them with a bit of difficulty, as they’d started to stiffen. As they straightened out there was a new welling of red- the position they were in had caused blood flow to slow a bit in the direction of his cuts, and the new rush was apparent.

Tags;;Christopher
Words;;442
Notes;;Alex is usually alot better at the name issue, but he's a bit woozy right now. xD
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