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 Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 7:03 pm
A black van backed onto one of the receiving dock ports of the Ashdown Hospital, so smoothly it almost looked practiced. Out of it stepped a young man in a well-tailored, three-piece dark grey suit and purple tie. He was pale and serious-looking, with amber eyes behind black rimmed glasses, his hair short and chestnut brown, brushed back neatly.
He paused just long enough to pull a folded paper from the door, giving it a once over before he tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. There was a short moment where he looked at the interior of his vehicle, before closing the door behind him and making his way to the back hatch. The van gate opened, the van's tray back guard lowered, and the stretcher with a neatly folded burgundy body bag was pulled free from the vehicle, the legs snapping into place to allow him to wheel it away.
Finally, stretcher in hand and van both closed up and locked behind him, he waited patiently at the loading docks for someone from security to arrive and show him in.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 7:47 pm
One week into his job working as a security job part time at the hospital, and already Connor was being asked to do something that nobody had bothered to show him before. However, he wasn't particularly worried. How hard could it be? Blah blah, let the guy from the funeral home in to collect a body from the morgue, something something sign a piece of paper or two, done. It wasn't like it was rocket surgery or brain science, as his dad used to be fond of saying. Decked out in full uniform, and with his usual bored expression on his face, and near shoulder length brown hair held back in a small pony tail, he made his way to the loading docks, pausing just for a moment when he arrived to figure out how to slide the door up before opening it. He blinked at the sudden sunlight in his eyes as he stepped out, "Hey you're..." His gaze fell to the gurney, and then up to the man stood beside it, blinking again as his eyes continued to adjust. "The uh, what the ******** is the word...undertaker? Is that it?" He was still frowning and squinting from the light, unable to make the other guy out clearly. "Well, come on, let's get this over with."
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 8:27 pm
Ripley had been half leaning against the stretcher when the gate finally opened. The noise alerted him to it, and he straightened up properly as the security guard behind it came into view, from the bottom up. He stared on in blank-faced silence as the unfamiliar face squinted at him and spouted less than intelligent babble. Then, after a moment, he had the decency to look vaguely amused; this one must be new.
"Undertaker. Funeral Director. Mortician. Take your pick." Sure, the names had slightly different meanings, but on the whole they were more and more interchangeable. "I tend to prefer 'Ripley'." He said by way of introduction, and pleasantly enough. When directed, he moved to one end of his stretcher and wheeled it towards the now-open door, being careful to not run into the new and apparently impatient security guard.
"Did Dave finally retire?" He asked with a thin smile, already making his way towards the morgue, but at a slower pace should the new guard feel the need to take the lead.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 8:48 pm
The voice that replied was decidedly younger sounding than Connor had expected, and after a couple more blinks, he could see why. In his head, when he pictured a funeral director, it was usually some creepy, wispy haired, grim faced, older gentlemen in a black suit that came to mind. The man that stood before him was most definitely none of those things. There was a moment where Connor's eyes held a fair amount of surprise, but that was quickly replaced with his own brand of mild amusement, as his lips lifted in a small smirk. "Ripley?" A short pause, "Parents a big fan of Alien? Well, you're a ******** far cry better looking than Sigourney, at least." He chuckled at that, clearly not finding it strange to compliment another man on his looks, and then moved on inside, walking to the side and just a little ahead of the stretcher. Until he realized he didn't remember how to get to the morgue from where they were. s**t. "Dave?" He asked, just a little distracted as he frowned and tried to remember what direction to head in, his steps slowing until he was side by side with Ripley
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 9:15 pm
Somehow, he found the look of surprise in the other man's face rather amusing. Clearly, he was not what the other man had expected, which was always fun for him. Well, perhaps not always. This time, at least, it was great.
Then, it was Ripley's turn to look surprised. The strange compliment threw him off guard, especially when tacked on after such an interesting comment on his name.
"Charming." He shook his head slowly. "But you need glasses." His hand waved briefly in the air, brushing off the compliment easily. "It was my Grandfather's name." Sorry to disappoint, except he wasn't. It hadn't taken him long to realize his steps were being matched, and therein came a problem for him; he almost wanted to mess with this new guard. He wanted to slow down and pretend he didn't know.
But, he also had a schedule to adhere to. A body to pick up as soon as possible. An identification booked. Work in general. He continued along down the long hallways of the Hospital's underbelly, taking the occasional turn along his way to the Morgue.
"Nevermind." He also waved off poor Dave. Apparently his passing thought to mess with this stranger was gone too, once he saw the frown. "Did they even tell you where the morgue was?"
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 9:56 pm
There was a short snort in response, and he laughed a bit more. "Charming. That's a new one." He gave his head a small shake, his amusement growing. The fact that Ripley hadn't actually seemed overly uncomfortable, creeped out or annoyed with the compliment was encouraging enough that Connor decided it was okay to elaborate, and hopefully not end up getting slugged in the face by this total stranger that he knew next to nothing about. "Hey, you can cut the modesty crap. I'm a pretty good ******** judge, and I'm also really ******** sober right now, and I'm definitely not visually impaired." He emphasized this last part with first a glance to the side, followed by a sweeping look down and back up as he blatantly checked Ripley out. "Having said that, I don't think I've ever seen you around, before." And he'd remember if he had, he was sure of it. "Which I'm going to guess means that there's a good chance you don't get out much, because I get out plenty." Was he just rambling now, because he wanted it to look like he had hung back to chat, and not because he was lost? There was a pretty good possibility of that being the case. Unfortunately, Ripley must have noticed. Double s**t. <********>. Okay, technically, yes, since it was part of my orientation tour...but that was a week ago and I haven't been there since." Things were at least looking a little more familiar now. Maybe. Weren't they supposed to take an elevator down a floor or something....?
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 10:33 pm
"I would hope so." Ripley added cooly to the Guard's comment on being sober. It was important to not be mentally impaired…especially when one was a security guard at a hospital, of all places. Otherwise, he listened on to the elaborated reasoning behind the initial comments, doing nothing more but roll his eyes once. Well, that and a brief look of surprise when he noted the rather pointed once-over he was being given.
"You're ridiculous." He scoffed. "Do you always talk to strangers like this?" Honestly, as almost creepy as it was, it was also somewhat flattering; a notion that Ripley buried very quickly. He didn't get out very much, nor did he interact with many others anymore outside of his work capacity - as Connor would soon guess - and he promptly understood the feeling to be the result of a lack of normal human contact. It was better to ignore it than to dwell on it, and so he chose to ignore it.
"You're assuming we'd frequent the same places." He pointed out casually, before approaching the second set of elevators - this one lead only down. Certainly not for everyone's use. After he fit the stretcher into it, he followed suit and waited long enough for the guard to join him. Once the elevator lurched into motion, he pulled a small pad of paper from his jacket's inner pocket, and a pen from another small hidden compartment within. He began making a set of lines starting with a strange zig zag before adding the occasional notch along the lines, and small X-es to the left and right here and there.
Unless the conversation continued, he seemed perfectly content with descending in silence.
The drawing was paused when the elevator dinged open again, and both pen and paper were tucked into his coat pocket.
Immediately ahead of them was a table stacked with glove boxes of various sizes, an outdated computer, and some mildly disorganized binders. A garbage and a biohazard bin marked the corner where the hallway continued to the left - their final hallway. The first door to the left was a small, comfortable looking room with couches and soft chairs…the only strange thing was the currently dark window that took up the inner wall to the right, visible from the doorway. The only other door was a large, rather imposing metal beast of a door. Even as far away from it as they were, it was clear that it was locked.
Ripley pointedly stopped at the little computer station after he got his stretcher out, and said nothing, though he did focus his amber eyes - and a rather poker-faced expression - on the still unknown guard.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2016 11:24 pm
It belatedly occurred to Connor that he wasn't being very professional, likely in part because of the tone of voice Ripley was using while semi-chastising him for his comments. He thought that perhaps he should reign it in a little bit, especially since he was new, and this was actually the first job he'd had in his life, and even if he had lied on his resume a smidge to get it, he really wasn't in the mood to go looking for a new one if this guy filed some kind of complaint with human resources or something. ...But on the other hand, Ripley was enticingly aloof in a weirdly attractive way, and Connor felt strangely compelled to push juuust a little further, if only to see what would happen. "Well, consider this: If we're going to be meeting each other like this on a regular basis, we won't be strangers for long." A pause followed, though at Ripley's final comment, he gave the man a side glance and a sly smile before following him in. The silence continued on the ride down, Connor having decided to bide his time. Hands clasped behind his back and eyes rose upwards the the elevator ceiling. If he was curious about whatever Ripley was doing, scribbling away on a pad of paper, it didn't show. When the elevator dinged open, Connor exited first in order to get out of Ripley's way. And as soon as he did, the air seemed to grow colder around him. A shiver went down his spine immediately as goosebumps broke out over his skin, and a feeling of extreme unease settled into the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, he really didn't think he wanted to be down in the morgue. He had stopped in his tracks, his smile faltering, while Ripley had pushed passed, the other man stopping at the computer station, where he was obviously waiting for Connor to join him. Forcing himself to move forward, he gave himself a mental shake. There was absolutely no reason to be freaked out. Was there? His world already having already been rocked by the knowledge of things like god damn ******** werewolves and s**t actually being real, he wasn't so sure that he shouldn't be at least somewhat worried about something like, oh say, zombies, or maybe even ghosts. But he forced himself to shut away such irrational (and yet, crazily enough, rational) thoughts. "Soooooo...Okay, real talk, buddy. It's seriously my first week here and if you could do me a solid by helping me out here, please, that'd be great. I really, really need this ******** job. What do we need to do here? Sign in?" He reached for the binder on top and flipped it open, scanning the first page.
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2016 11:40 am
Ripley's amber eyes rolled to stare at an imaginary point in the distance as he considered those words. On one hand, perhaps it was good to get this sort of flattery out of the way early so it wouldn't be a likely awkward surprise later on…but on the other, it was still a somewhat awkward surprise. The stranger was putting an awful lot of faith in his ability to go with the flow, and even more trust that he wouldn't go to his superiors.
Ugh. He really did need to get out more.
"That's a rather bold move." Plus, it at least set some strange level of expectations; at least he knew he probably wouldn't have to make small talk about the weather at this rate. It was rather refreshing, as unprofessional and out of the blue as it was. Ripley tilted his head to regard the man again, a rather sly smile of his own creeping onto his lips. "Especially considering you haven't introduced yourself."
Once they were out of the elevator though, Ripley quickly noticed his companion's body language change; he was uncomfortable. Very much so. As the other man worked through whatever discomforts he had, he shifted his gaze down the hall to the large metal door, once more forced to ponder at his extreme comfort where others were hesitant. This place was practically his third home. It wasn't until the other man spoke up that he even looked back, and he listened to the plea with the same poker face he had on prior.
"Yeah." He answered, though he moved to take a different binder - a black one on the bottom. "This one. It'll have a sticker copy of the hospital tags in a list. You'll need to find out who I'm here for, and which Funeral Home I'm from." He was not wearing his name tag today, or else it would have been much easier for him to do this without asking. Which he was quite obviously going to make him do. "I have a release form for you, which you'll need to ask for. Then you'll find the deceased's name in the book, sign the date and current time, and then have me sign for the transfer." Once the Guard opened the book, he'd notice there were neat little columns for everything Ripley had mentioned.
"Then, you'll unlock the morgue door for me, and I'll go do my thing. You can help if you want, but most don't. It's fine. Also." The black book was nudged aside, and then he poked at the binder he had initially opened. "This is where you'll put the release form." He was back to the paper in his pocket, finishing up his strange doodle of lines. "When I come back out with the body, you'll want to check the tags on their wrist, ankle or both to make sure I didn't take the wrong person. If you don't, and there's a mixup, the blame also rests on you." Whatever he had been doing with the paper, he was finished, and it was tucked back into his pocket, though he kept his pen out. His gaze lifted once more to rest on the slightly taller man, once more checking to see if the information had been processed and understood.
"Then, you escort me and the body back to my van, and after that, you're on your own."
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2016 2:45 pm
"Or maybe that's just how, and who, I am, which is Connor, by the way." He shrugged again, smirking, and left it at that. Once they were out of the elevator, he had other things on his mind, like why the hell it was suddenly so damn cold (probably just because they were on the sub floor, right?) and what the hell was he supposed to do, now? Luckily, Ripley seemed to accept his role as a teacher to the almost completely clueless security guard with relative ease and, thankfully, without giving Connor a hard time over it, though it was hard to tell what the other man was thinking, when his expression never seemed to change. Mystery. Another strangely appealing thing, though probably what attracted Connor more was the challenge of garnering a reaction from somebody who seemed to do his best not to react. But later. For now, he was listening, and nodding along as he filed away all of this information as it was presented to him. He really didn't want to ask again. He felt he looked like enough of an inept idiot as it was. "Alright than. Who are you here for and where are you from, sir?" He reached for the binder as he said this, and was about to close his hand around it and to pick up, when it suddenly slid, to the edge of the desk where it teetered for a moment, and then fell to the floor with a loud thwap. What. The. <********, wait. He got it. Standing straight again, he let his hand fall back to his side, and he turned to level a stare at Ripley, one eyebrow raising. "This is some kind of ******** prank you guys play on the new security guards, isn't it? Like an initiation thing? ******** hilarious." His tone could not have been any dryer.
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2016 4:02 pm
"Fair point." That could very well have been his personality from the get-go. Ripley didn't know that, after all; though the impression was certainly made. "I'd suggest toning that down. Not all of us have a sense of humour." Said the man who, to date, had yet to display a real one of his own. "Either way, nice to meet you, Connor." It was also nice to meet such an attentive student, too. He seemed to be absorbing everything he was being told, which would go well for him if he kept it up.
If he thought anything about the current situation, it was how disappointed he was in the hospital and the security team when it came to this branch of training; most guards hated this part of it, so it was probably just glanced over from the beginning. He hadn't even entertained the thought that Connor would be lying to him about all of this. It just seemed too honest to be anything than the truth.
"I'm from Crowell Funeral Home, and -" Ripley had started to supply the information easily, finally breaking eye contact to gaze down at his inner jacket pocket, fishing out the paper he needed. The loud clatter had him pause mid-sentence, his gaze immediately lifting to see the culprit; the binder on the floor. He looked at it, blankly trying to process how the hell that happened, before giving a rather pointedly flat look at Connor. Meanwhile, his hands smoothed open the tri-folded paper he had pulled from his jacket, perhaps to show he had been busy when the item fell.
"Very funny. I'm not that mean." Really, what else could he say to that? "Maybe you're haunted." He suggested, his voice just as flat and unimpressed. Pranking. Hah. As if he had time or energy for that. Connor was probably just clumsy, and on edge in the Morgue Hallway. Of course. With a sigh, he knelt down to pick up the binder for him, offering it out, with the hospital-written release slip unfolded and on top of it, held down by his thumb. Then, as if nothing ever happened: "I'm here to pick up Flynn O'Connor."
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2016 7:13 pm
As much as Ripley didn't seem the type to play a practical joke on somebody, Connor had to wonder now if the whole stoic faced, dry toned, not very amused front was just an act put on to mislead him. It was hard to believe, however, because if that were the case, than this guy was one hell of an actor, and in completely the wrong business. His denial on having anything to do with binder was met with a narrow eyed, scrutinizing look. If Ripley really didn't have anything to do with it, however, than that left Connor with few other options, though he jumped to the next most logical conclusion, in his mind, first. "Now who's being ridiculous?" He gave his head a shake, while giving a minute roll of his eyes, "It's probably just somebody trying to mess with both of us. I bet there's..." fishing line attached to the binder to tug it off the desk with, was how he wanted to finish that sentence, but when Ripley bent down and picked it up, it was clear quite quickly that there was not. "........Or not." He snatched the binder, and began turning it around in his hands, frowning in confusion. "I swear it just slid, on it's ******** own." He muttered, more to himself than to the funeral director, of whom he now realized he probably appeared somewhat crazy in front of. "I mean, clearly it didn't. It must have just slipped out of my fingers. Anyways, sorry. Let's just finish this." His mood slightly rankled by the way the events were making him look, he opened the binder and waited to hear the name. And then, his gaze shot back up from the binder, eyes widening slightly in surprise as his heart jerked with momentary panic in his chest. Wait, no, it was okay, it was... "Flynn O'Connor?" He bowed his head back down to the book as he took deep, calming, even breaths. "Right. Here it is. Transfer papers?" He asked, looking back up again, all while wishing very much that they could just be finished here.
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2016 7:30 pm
"You probably hit it just right." He mused thoughtfully, pondering over what Connor was saying; he was still pretty convinced that the other man had simply been seeing things. "Your mind is playing tricks on you. This place is spooky after all." He deadpanned, waving his fingers unconvincingly.
When he was apologized to, he simply shrugged. Connor startling though, now that was something. The look was pondered over further, though his expression, as always, remained fairly neutral. When asked for the papers, he tapped the page that had been given with the binder - the one from the hospital, that already had 'Ripley Crowell' printed neatly on one line, and his signature along the bottom. All that was left was a marked 'X' for Connor's name and signature on the lines underneath.
"If the transfer person doesn't supply you with this paper, send them back to Bed Control on the second floor." He explained easily, still studying him fairly thoughtfully. Once Connor stepped aside, Ripley would move in and sign his name and further information in the required spots, his font neat and efficient. When he stepped back to ready his stretcher for the trek down the hall:
"Someone you know?" He asked, sympathy leaking into his voice.
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2016 7:52 pm
"I don't know about spooky, but it is ******** ridiculously cold down here." He griped, all while pretending he wasn't experiencing and as such suppressing any feelings of the heebie jeebies right at that moment. "My fingers are probably just frozen and numb." Well, whatever had happened, at least they were moving past it with a couple of light jokes, even if Ripley's deadpan delivery left a little to be desired. "Ah, right." He shook his head again, and let out a short huff of irritation, mostly with himself, as he scanned the paper quickly and signed, before moving to the side to let Ripley do whatever he needed to do as well. And when he was done with that, they were ready to set off towards the Big Ominous Door. With Ripley's sudden question, however, Connor gave a small shake of his head, prepared for an inquiry like this after his reaction to the name and thus not surprised by it, now. "No. The name was just very similar to an old acquaintance of mine." He explained, and then felt a shiver go down his spine as he began to feel that same strange unease begin to build up in his stomach once more. Again, he tried to ignore it, swallowing back the impromptu panicked feeling as he reached for his key ring, finding the right one to open up the door to let Ripley inside. "Do you need any help in there?" He asked, deciding to at least be polite and offer even if he really didn't want to go in (or more like make the offer so that he didn't look like a complete wuss-a** pansy that felt a desperate need to go stand back over by the desk).
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2016 8:14 pm
Ripley almost, almost, reached out to take Connor's hands just then. He stopped himself, and passed the motion off to instead take a pair of blue nitrile gloves from the stretcher's top pocket.
"Probably." He conceded, and choose to leave it at that. There was no other reason to dwell on the curious urge, though he quickly passed it off into the same category as his earlier lapse with the whole flattery thing. It was all the same, and it was frustrating as hell on his end; these things shouldn't be a bother to him, but they were. He took a moment to finish putting the gloves on.
"Ah." Was all Ripley said - or rather, noised? - when Connor elaborated. That was fair enough. Familiar sounding names could always trigger little startles. It's happened to him before, on more than one occasion. "And no, thank you." He was certain he didn't need the help, and that Connor could use the time to look over the binders to familiarize himself with them. It was just easier that way for the both of them.
He went into the cooler alone, and a few minutes later came back, the bag opened just enough for Ripley to show Connor the body's tags, without showing too much of the actual body. It was a brief glance, just long enough to read, and he zipped up the body bag, before zipping up the burgundy fabric one as well. He took a moment to make the bag presentable with as little creases as possible, and finally took off his gloves, tossing them in the nearby trash.
"Ready to go?"
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