Astrid sees that depression. She reaches out to squeeze his hand gently, and nods. "Okay," she says, "I'll get a hold of a few people. See what we can do."
She smiles again, more gently this time. "Is there anything I can do right now?"
That's as may be, but she knows it's there, and she has enough experience with people hiding their troubles that she's become an expert at ferreting them out.
"You're still going to need someplace to stay until you find another place of your own," she answers. "You're staying with me when you're released, and that's final."
Gentle she might be, but when she makes a decision, she brooks no argument.
Astrid smiles again and then steps quietly out of the room. She's out there for a while. While she's out there, a harried nurse comes in with not only breakfast (ooo, look, real orange juice to-day!) but also discharge papers, already signed by his doctor.
The hospital is terribly overcrowded, after all, what with all the rioting that's happened after the Invaders vanished.
And there's orange juice. He ought to give her time to deal with whoever she's talking to, and he obviously doesn't have a bag to pack. All his belongings, his favorite things are gone.
Even his clothes are gone--really, only his trousers had survived. That's all right, Astrid had figured out his sizes and brought something more or less similar to what he used to wear. After all, nobody should have to leave the hospital in hospital garb.
Goodness, she's on the phone for a while. Good job this OJ is tasty. The egg sticks and protein loaf, on the other hand....
Blame the med shortage. Besides, Astrid knows where Walter kept The Good Stuff.
And speaking of Astrid, she walks in the door, now, a smile crossing her face when she sees her friend pretty much ready to leave this place. Good. Hospitals are depressing.
"At least they're efficient with discharge," she says, her grin becoming a rueful half-smile. She secures the lid onto the muffin tray, then pushes the door open. "Sorry, it's gonna be a bit of a hike to my car."
Oh, Astrid's car, the tiny little VW she'd 'rescued' from a Loyalist who clearly didn't need it any more....
Don't tempt him, he doesn't need to develop a bad bong habit. Does he?
He goes along with her, a little bit slowly. Better to be careful than have to come back. It's going to be an adventure, living with someone he only knows from his good old twenty years gone baldo days, and she doesn't know 'Donald' much at all. She's very nice though.
"Not a problem. How are Peter and Olivia?" Quiet unassuming question. They're special.
"They're doing well," Astrid answers with the same cheerful yet evasive tone. It'll come out eventually what kind of condition Peter is in and where Olivia went, but she isn't going to mention it now--it's not something that can be explained with just words.
Astrid is used to a slow pace--Walter had a tendency to shuffle when walking, after all, and probably still does. She waits patiently at doors and leads him into the parking garage.
And further into the parking garage.
And further and further and just when most people would think that this was where they'd be killed and nobody would ever find the bodies, she stops at a scuffed, formerly bright blue little semicircle of a car.
Somehow it's almost absurdly well-fitted to her. She opens the driver's side door, places the muffins on the back seat, then makes her way round to the other side of the car to unlock and open the passenger-side door.
Well, she's a bit too short to reach it from the inside, even in a teenymobile like this one.
She forgives him. He had been shot, after all, and that takes a long time to recover from.
"Sorry, the heater doesn't work too well in this thing..." she says before managing to wriggle between the seats and produce a fluffy blanket, which she then drapes onto him and fusses with for a moment.
"I live pretty close to here. But I thought maybe we could visit Peter first, bring him some muffins. If you're up to it."
Oh, hell. Another thing she can't really explain with words. Astrid dithers a little, starting the car, pulling out of the parking space, driving toward the exit.... She can't tell him the truth because she doesn't know all of it, herself. But a lie would be... probably really transparent to the point of insulting his intelligence. GUH.
OH, HEY.
"Well, she's--woah, they finally rebuilt that office building and it's /ugly./"
Still, there's the conversational distraction they need for at least a couple minutes. Hopefully.
It's odd humour, yes, but she's seen the things that make Walter chortle. She's used to it.
"Yeah, but... office buildings don't usually look so... deliberately thrown together at random." Indeed, it has a very sturdy, finished, and moreover expensive look, but it also has a crazy-quilt look to it, all a jumble of geometric shapes and building materials.
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"We should try. I'm not worried about him doing anything wrong, but I am curious."
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She smiles again, more gently this time. "Is there anything I can do right now?"
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"No, I don't think so. I should be released soon."
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"You're still going to need someplace to stay until you find another place of your own," she answers. "You're staying with me when you're released, and that's final."
Gentle she might be, but when she makes a decision, she brooks no argument.
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No direct argument. It's subtle. "Do any of you have places to stay yet?"
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She doesn't want to say anything about Peter, not yet.
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"Who am I to say no?"
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"Exactly," she replies firmly. And that, as they say, is that.
Still, just the mention of Peter has her thinking.
"Will you excuse me for just a minute? I have to make a phone call."
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The hospital is terribly overcrowded, after all, what with all the rioting that's happened after the Invaders vanished.
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"Thank you, I'll be out soon."
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"I'm very sorry, Mr O'Connor. But don't hesitate to come back if anything goes wrong."
With that, she hurries out the door.
Well, then. Astrid is outside the door, pacing back and forth with her phone to her head.
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Stalling with OJ it is.
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Goodness, she's on the phone for a while. Good job this OJ is tasty. The egg sticks and protein loaf, on the other hand....
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OJ gone, he'll be joining here in the hallway with his things after changing. Someday, maybe, the food will be... edible.
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And speaking of Astrid, she walks in the door, now, a smile crossing her face when she sees her friend pretty much ready to leave this place. Good. Hospitals are depressing.
"At least they're efficient with discharge," she says, her grin becoming a rueful half-smile. She secures the lid onto the muffin tray, then pushes the door open. "Sorry, it's gonna be a bit of a hike to my car."
Oh, Astrid's car, the tiny little VW she'd 'rescued' from a Loyalist who clearly didn't need it any more....
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He goes along with her, a little bit slowly. Better to be careful than have to come back. It's going to be an adventure, living with someone he only knows from his good old twenty years gone baldo days, and she doesn't know 'Donald' much at all. She's very nice though.
"Not a problem. How are Peter and Olivia?" Quiet unassuming question. They're special.
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"They're doing well," Astrid answers with the same cheerful yet evasive tone. It'll come out eventually what kind of condition Peter is in and where Olivia went, but she isn't going to mention it now--it's not something that can be explained with just words.
Astrid is used to a slow pace--Walter had a tendency to shuffle when walking, after all, and probably still does. She waits patiently at doors and leads him into the parking garage.
And further into the parking garage.
And further and further and just when most people would think that this was where they'd be killed and nobody would ever find the bodies, she stops at a scuffed, formerly bright blue little semicircle of a car.
Somehow it's almost absurdly well-fitted to her. She opens the driver's side door, places the muffins on the back seat, then makes her way round to the other side of the car to unlock and open the passenger-side door.
Well, she's a bit too short to reach it from the inside, even in a teenymobile like this one.
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It's so cute. What's not cute is him sitting down like an... old man. When did he turn fifty? He knows she'll forgive him though.
"Where do you live?"
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"Sorry, the heater doesn't work too well in this thing..." she says before managing to wriggle between the seats and produce a fluffy blanket, which she then drapes onto him and fusses with for a moment.
"I live pretty close to here. But I thought maybe we could visit Peter first, bring him some muffins. If you're up to it."
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"I am--where is Olivia? Not with Peter?" He's so in the dark, and them splitting up again is rather sad.
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OH, HEY.
"Well, she's--woah, they finally rebuilt that office building and it's /ugly./"
It... kinda is.
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He blinks, turning to look at the building she's bringing up. Uh...huh. "It is an office building."
...Weird humor.
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Still, there's the conversational distraction they need for at least a couple minutes. Hopefully.
It's odd humour, yes, but she's seen the things that make Walter chortle. She's used to it.
"Yeah, but... office buildings don't usually look so... deliberately thrown together at random." Indeed, it has a very sturdy, finished, and moreover expensive look, but it also has a crazy-quilt look to it, all a jumble of geometric shapes and building materials.
Just keep discussing that building, Astrid.
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"What do they work on in there?"
Why change the topic back to sad things? He clearly doesn't want to.
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