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That hand running up and down his back was one of the things keeping him grounded, a small solace in a wave of utter s**t. Subtly, he shifted, resting a little more of his weight against Rhys’ shoulder, a light pressure meant to hopefully both ease some of his lover’s anxiety and because frankly even if Hitch didn’t deserve Rhys, it didn’t mean he didn’t need him.

It didn’t help that everywhere he glanced, it felt like people were staring. Why wouldn’t they be? He was a goddamn hideous mess sitting here in his own filth and where was the goddamn doctor. Even if they just gave him something for the goddamn pain -

Then, someone calling his name - not a doctor, but familiar -

Hitch looked up with his one good eye, clouded and red at the edges, but recognition immediately brightened it. “Zachariah, “ and his voice was hoarse from all the screaming he’d done. He’d mentioned the name to Rhys, back during that first day their paths had crossed again. What’re the ********’ odds we’d meet here in DC after so long huh?? Felt like a lifetime ago now...

Part of him was happy to see him. The other part of him didn’t want to see ANYONE. He just wanted ******** help. “I got jumped.” Best way to say it without going into any detail. It wasn’t really a story he was ready to tell right now.

He squeezed Rhys’ hand hard. “Why’re you here?” Because Hitch being Hitch, of course he’d ask.

Cabhan Douglas

Mistakes can be made while patrolling alone. It was an unfortunate truth and one, realistically, Cabhan knew better than to engage. Especially when he had people he could approach to accompany him when under the garb and magical mask of that other self. The slender gashes and bruises along his right hand and forearm were just as much his own fault as his targets and opponent that evening.

A long lecture he'd already gone over multiple times in the car ride over and then slightly reitterated in the parking lot, his arm bundled in a towel brought to him by the large man ushering him into The Center. "Thank you for collecting me and bringing me here," he chirped again from beneath his hoodie, moving up to the desk as other patients stepped away from it. Turned over his ID, grabbed paperwork to fill out as necessary. "Accident in the studio," he said as the agreed upon excuse. Not that he sported any of the paint or clay markings the other did, but... Well, that was part of why Jericho was there. Not that he expected to be directed along to sit beside another patient. Listening as Jericho addressed her, he grinned to Omorose and held out his good hand towards her. "Oh, are you a friend of Jericho's? Cabhan, nice to meet you. If under less than ideal circumstances. How bad?" He nodded towards her equally towel covered arm.

---

Jericho Cross

"Mm," was the grunt of confirmation that he'd even heard what the shorter youth had said. Dried clay clung around the edges of his fingernails, shirt and jeans long stained with paints, primers, clays, and more--he'd skipped patrol that night for an evening to relax, working away in his home on different projects of handy and DIY variety. Not to mention working again on some of his sculpting projects. Only reason he'd bothered to leave the house at all was because he'd gotten a call from a battered Cabhan after the other'd powered down.

Jericho didn't hide the fact the primary reason he went to help the corrupt was because of his connections to Cass and Ilian. No more, no less. So he'd left Lace with a small bag of candy and picked the kid up, grumbling his displeasure and the blatant idiot mistakes Cabhan had made. Driving him out to The Center had seemed like the best option--free and quiet being ideal--though as they'd entered and he saw the state of the waiting room, he'd hissed a few curses beneath his breath. Cabhan was far from the worst off there, noting how one was covered in blood and vomit and... Jesus. His curses turned to silent murmurs to Raphael as Cabhan checked himself in as necessary.

Pale eyes focused on a young woman already seated, and as Cabhan began to search for a seat, Jericho ushered him over towards where Omorose was seated. "What happened?" No large greeting to the newer addition to the Negaverse. They'd worked together before, she was familiar enough. His arms crossed, standing somewhat before the two instead of occupying another chair for the moment. Least he didn't see the need in taking up space, with how more people continued into the waiting room. He didn't object to Cabhan addressing the other as his friend--more like aquantance, but--or his interjection to introduce himself. Saved him the trouble.

Quote:

Both are open for interaction~

Pixie Nyxie

Omorose Khan

Omorose couldn't miss Mister Jericho if the man was green light in a cross section. The man practically screamed beast in the room full of people. A room, she looked around, filled with all sorts of people. She sniffed her nose as they came over and beamed at both of them. The smaller man was new to her, but Jericho had been on a mission with her.

She knew he wasn't fond of her corrupt form but it was what it was.

"Hi!" She patted the seat next to her and licked her lips. "I was gardening." She winked, "Pruning some plants in my greenhouse. Knicked myself with some shears, not really paying attention at the time." They had surprised her with their weapon, but even in the room with the people, she didn't know who was who.

"Nice to meet you Cabhan. I'm Omorose." She looked over at his and nodded, "You look pretty scratched up too." Her eyes drifted to Jericho next, "What about you Hulk?" Since she had recently enjoyed some of the avenger movies, the large man did remind her of the giant green giant. Even the angry expression was down. "Did you get hurt too?" She pulled the towel away so she could check it and grimaced. "It's too bad this place is busy though...."

{Omorose is open for interactions}

Arian Laith

Arian wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting when he pushed open the door to the Urgent Care centre, but the packed room that the door had opened up on was most definitely wasn't it - although it had mayhaps been a little naive hoping that the place would be quiet–

No scratch that, Arian knew that the thought had been naive, after all it was not quite half eleven at night and this was Destiny City - and whilst he'd been hoping for somewhere less busy, maybe the fact that the place was so busy might work in both Eunkyung's and his favour and there wouldn't be tooo many questions about where the scratches had come from.

It was something of a habit for Arian to hold the door open for her, although he wasn't expecting the blue-haired woman who walked in - or maybe it more accurate to say limped in with a murmured thank you before making her way over to what appeared to be the front desk.

Eunkyung had been behind her however and Arian turned to his friend as he asked quietly "Do you think that they will let one of us check the two of us in?" Because if they did then it would at leave one of them free to try and find seats.




Ashley Williams

To be honest making a trip down to the Urgent Care centre, hadn't been on Ashley's list of things to do that evening–

In fact it wasn't even remotely close to the quiet evening that she had initially had planned for after she had helped a friend from one of her classes move some boxes into their new apartment.

An overly heavy box had scuppered that plan though and whilst Ashley didn't quite recall knowing this particular Urgent Care centre, she had hoped that it would at least be a quick wait, given the way that it had been tucked away in the outskirts of the city.

No such luck it seemed however as she limped past the dark-haired young man that had been holding the door open and murmured a quiet 'thank you', because the door had opened onto a room that seemed packed to the gills with what appeared to be pretty much everyone in the city–

Well okay, maybe everyone was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was crowded - much more crowded then she would have liked.

Ashley finished up at the front desk and turned to try and see if she could find a seat.

Zachariah Faulkner

The man who was with Hitch was the first to respond. He was clinging onto his hand tightly, whispering to him in hushed tones that hinted of concern and perhaps affection. Perhaps he had not put together who this might have been at first, but it seemed fairly obvious now. This must have been the aforementioned husband.

He supposed there was some importance to knowing who this was, anyway.

Zachariah was about to open his mouth to confirm that he was Hitch's friend, in so much as someone he had only seen a couple times in the last five-plus years could be considered a friend, but he was soon sidetracked by Hitch actually speaking up. His voice sounded like his vocal cords were being grated by a particularly sharp cheese grater. It also sounded like Hitch had opted to smoke twenty packs of cigarettes and then perhaps a bong or two. If he had to take a guess, it likely had something to do with the getting jumped.

He could not help letting his eyes flicker over to Hitch's lack of eye, for a moment. Whoever jumped him had done quite a number.

He could not help wondering if he had been attacked by an agent hungry for a starseed.

That was where his mind always went these days, ever since he found out the truth to this bullshit gang war that was supposedly taking place in this forsaken city.

"Yeah, friends," confirmed Zachariah, to Hitch's husband, finally, if that s**t was not obvious by this point. "And jumped, s**t. Well, I am glad," was that the right word?, "that you are alive, at least."

Perhaps in some way, it would have been easier for Zachariah if Hitch had not been alive, but that was a cruel thought. It may have been easier for Zachariah if they had not ended up in the same location that night, though. Zachariah needed an excuse. He needed an excuse that would explain his presence in an emergency clinic this late at night when he did not look battered like Hitch or as sick as some of the others in the waiting room. What could be causing that much discomfort that he could not put it off until morning?

"Sharp pain in my abdomen," lied Zachariah, flatly, as he lifted a hand to rub at his side to sell it a bit. He was careful not to move the arm where the actual problem sat. "Not sure what it is, but figured it would be better to be cautious."

To sidetrack from any more questions about his own pains, he followed up with a, "Is it alright if I sit nearby?"

Omorose Khan

"Shrubs mostly!" She beamed at the young man, "Because I am getting used to the greenhouse again. Some of the flowers I remember, some of them I don't, so it's all about jogging it again." She tapped the side of her head, forgetting that Cab did not know her like Jericho did.

She was almost a bit intimidated when the larger man bent down and pressed the towel against her arm, especially since his whole hand could circle hers easily. There was even a flutter of something in her stomach but she breathed out.

"It's pretty late you know!" She looked at the time, "I'm surprised too actually that some of them are still waiting. Don't kids get like preferred treatment?" She nodded her head over to the couple and small girl resting her body against her dad.

"Deep enough to bleed a lot, but not deep enough to hit anything vital I think. I took some precautionary..." She mulled on the words and tried to figure it out...."things." yes, excellent, people would never know she ate a starseed to keep the wound from completely gushing out.

"What happened here?" She reached out and curiously touched his cheek where scars marred it. "Were you around for this?" She tilted her head at Cab, her smile was soft and curious.

{Omorose is open for interactions}

Alphonse Wingates-St. Grey

Alphonse found himself at the clinic at quite a few minutes past eleven o'clock. Exactly what time, the young man would be hard pressed to tell you. His brain was preoccupied with a more pressing matter and his head was crying out in distress signals that pulsed through everything in his body.

But the problem was not with his mind this time. In fact, it was in his hand - in an actively bleeding cut that bisected his pale palm on his right side.

The reason he was here at the Center and not somewhere else was that this was an injury he wasn’t ready to explain. Generally, when your wound is caused by a weapon - specifically, a sword - you would rather questions not be asked.

As a knight, in order to help, he needed combat training. That he understood all too well. But did the cat really have to insist on him using a real katana?

Now he was just a civilian with a suspicious injury in an urgent care waiting room filled with one too many people in need of help too.

So much for being the one to help.

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