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"Um... swimming." ...But it didn't sound as funny out loud as it had in her head- probably because it was still throbbing. "I was just trying to depress...myself. Nothing like doing something you hate to make you feel good and terrible." A part of her knew she wasn't making any sense- but another, quickly 'winning' part didn't care- because it was slowly taking over her facilities with a fuzzy haze.

"I'm... Emelyn, by the way," She said, trying to push the haze away.

She only partially registered that they''d parked. "Mm... I couldn't sleep. I never go to sleep so late. Early. Whatever it is." She realized she wasn''t making any sense whatsover, and it frustrated her. "I'm sorry," she said, rubbing away the rain that was falling in her eyes with delicate fingers.

A female voice responded. "This is Dr. Lockheart. Moreu is busy, I'm taking all his communications. What kind of medical attention? Uh, I mean.. first aide or do I need to contact Mr. Brodstrom?"

"Okay, Mr. Sabin, I'll meet you there. I'll contact the doctor in the meantime."

Sabin turned back to Emelyn. "I'm going to take you upstairs to the doctor's office now. Dr. Lockheart is a competent doctor" Well, Sabin added mentally, she at least studied basic physiology enough to deal with a concussion. Not that there was a great deal to do with a concussion patient from his recollection.

"And we'll let her discuss with you about the immunizations" he added, wiping his hands of dealing with that. He carried her into the elevator and spoke aloud the directions to take them to the 8th floor, at which it whisked them upwards, pinging softly as the doors slid back open to a sterile hospital room.

He carried her in and set her gently on a metal wrapped-with-paper table and looked around, his eyes straying to a locked, handle-less cabinet.

A tall, friendly looking woman came in, folding a pile of papers, files, and a clipboard. She wore a labcoat over a ridiculously cute baby tee and a red skirt. Sabin knew she was generally a chipper individual, but at this moment she looked positively giddy.

"Hello there, Mr. Sabin," she said sunnily, adjusting the glasses on her face. Without waiting for a response she went over to the lady on the table. "Hello there!" She helped her into a sitting position, pulled a penlight from her labcaot pocket, shining it in each eye, watching for dialation. "Do you know your name, hun?"

Sabin nodded to Aubrey as she entered and stepped aside. Had Aubrey ever handled this before? He wasn't sure, but he did know that she was supposedly second only to Moreau himself - and if she was here than something really must have captured his attention. And for him to not personally greet a new "subject' meant that that something must be quite interesting... or pressing. Perhaps there had been some negative side effect of the storm.

Sabin also had doubts to just how much Aubrey was really aware of exactly what Moreau was doing on the Island, despite her access to everything. Perhaps it was her way of coping with it, but she never seemed to quite catch the full repercussions of some of the situations.... He just hoped that she didn't inadvertantly scare some of the subjects prematurely.... then again.... he shook his head quickly. No, this early could result in problems that they really didn't need.

It was harder to grip the pen than Em thought it would be- her fingers were still cold and wrinkled from the water, and although the file sat on her other hand, the pen required muscle work to get it good and gripped. It was this distraction that led her to leave the file mostly unread- scanning over it with a fog and then scribbling out a line of what was a very tangled version of her signature. ...Somehow the second 'E' ended up crossing over the 'l'... but oh well.

"Aubrey," she said, wanting to rub at her head but still holding the file. "I may call you Audrey once or twice." She surrendered the paperwork and weakly held pen.