(Heroes) Doctor and Nurse

[Yumyumcrow]

Sutter General was not just a hospital; it was a system of hospitals and research facilities that spread across several city blocks. Tall cubes, some in white and some in grey, punched through the skyline like miniature mountains; the streets were great, shadow filled canyons - a warren and a labyrinth of blind streets and contrived turns that served to confound and confuse. Much like medical jargon, the twisting layout was a language of its own and it kept its secrets bound tightly.

Coco and Star knew their woman was in there. They had rescued her from her burning home; they had witnessed the arrival of the paramedics and they had overheard where the apparently injured woman was being taken. Given the extent of her trauma, it would be quite possible that she was still recovering in a ward somewhere.

But which one?

Over to you Coco Cayce Star West

[Coco]

"Hurray. Brutalism," Coco commented with a roll of her eyes and a rather impressive frown for someone that seemed to smile so much.

"I just do not understand how anyone could think this style of architecture could help cure anyone. It's just so...dead looking, isn't it?" she queried as they walked, turning to Jack for a reply. Perhaps he would take the question as rhetorical, ignore it for some other reason, or make up some sort of generalized drivel, but she was curious. Not about his response, about him.

"Why did you threaten Armitage, by the way? You seemed awfully familiar with the sort of information you received, as well as how to ask for it for just a go-fer with a camera."

[Star]

"Oh, sometimes I get to, you know, do crime scenes!"

Brows bobbed. How exciting, yo. Really, it is. Ever had to pull an all-day at a ribbon cutting ceremony or hairless cat show? File under Wrinkle Cream.

"Photo them. Not, uh, Do as in Do them. Like, sometimes, the detectives even talk to me. Usually it's, you know, 'Get Outta The Way'." That? It's supposed to be a low, menacing law enforcement growl. If it sounds like a terribad Darth Vader, welp. "Or, 'You Can't Be Here On This Side Of The Tape.' But, sometime, they talk. Or I listen. Like, I'm not eavesdropping. That's probably illegal. You think eavesdropping on cops is illegal? I don't know. Just in case it is? I didn't. I don't. Not on, like, purpose. I mean, I'm always trying to talk to them. I just can't, you know, help it if they aren't, or, don't want to, talk. To me. To talk back to me."

It's a mystery. Who wouldn't want to talk to Jack?

"But, ummmmm. Yeah. The architecture? It's on purpose. Actually. It's mean to be reassuring. Like, you'll see wild architecture at high tech places? Like experimental treatment hospitals? It's to give people the idea they're on the cutting edge. Edgy. Or, trendy. You know? With it. Current." A hand slashed out, sweeping into spires and arcs, then fell into low, straight lines. But regular places, they're super boring. Shoe boxes. It's because people want that. It's like architectural chicken soup." Which is a lot like verbal diarrhea. "Boring, but predictable. Solid. Unimaginative. You'd be surprised. Legit surprised, at how many people like that. Want that. Mostly when they're sick, but some people want that all the time. Oh. And sterile. People like sterile. Especially with, you know, hospitals."

Maybe sometimes Jack talks to architects, too. Summer, 2011. Taliesen West. Don't. Ask.

"You know that lady's name? The Bathrobe Lady. Ummmm. The first bathrobe lady. Or maybe we can look up public records. Tax records? Like, on the house. Usually those are totally public, like, interwebs public. And they have the names. Unless she doesn't own the home. But it looked like she did."

Remember, this is Just Business. Nobody's on an Afternoon Stroll with Random Chick. And by Random, it really doesn't get much more.

"So what's your cane for?"

Because Twenty Questions.

[Yumyumcrow]

Don't mind me. Keep going For sake of clarity, one of the hospital's many entrance foyers is coming up

[Coco]

"My cane? It's in case I need it, of course," Coco shot back with a wink. "Old sports injury, I'm sure you know the story. I used to be an athlete, actually. Trained for the Olympics. Sadly, instead of fame and endorsements all I got was a rather...traumatic experience. I might look like one who's more than comfortable with their body, and I am, actually, but there was definitely an adjustment period after what happened."

Which was true, of course. For someone that used to shriek and kill any wasp in that might be in the area, it was more than traumatic to suddenly find herself looking like a cousin to one. Or, no, rather being one. Just a much more...aesthetically pleasing, intelligent, and talented one. Exponentially so...

Anyways, any fool could tell you that the best lies were mixed with truth. The thing was, with this lie, Coco truly didn't care if Jack chose to believe it. Dangerous, perhaps, considering that he was in the business of documenting and blabbing things that were amiss. The watchdog for the ideological state apparatuses. Which, it was, but only for now. Eventually he'd do something incriminating. Then there'd be incentive for him to only tell part of the story.

"As for bathrobe lady, I don't think we'll have any trouble. How many women were hauled in after house fires over the course of the last day? Probably just one! Of course, the five-six-seven-eight ectera local news networks probably did run a story about it last night. You might as well look it up if you have a phone with the capability," she conceded with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

[Star]

Know the story?

Nobody here has old sports injury stories. Old sports injuries require playing sports. Even though somehow baseball was a sport, competitive card throwing still probably wasn't.

"Really? You were an athlete?" Okay, so competitive card throwing still wasn't a sport but, what, competitive hair coloring was? Whatever can be seen the furthest away wins? "Man, that's cool. The Olympics are cool. Citius, Altius, Fortius? Or is is Fortius, Altius, Citius? I can't ever remember, except I know the A goes in the middle."

Olympics were legit, for real. Asp probably would have loved this chick. She's got a cane, she's got a baton, together they do sports? Something was wrong with that story.

"What sort of, uh, traumatic experience? Bad endorsement deals? Fungal infection from shared facilities?"

It's true. Not everyone is Bodie Miller.

Feet slowed as they approached. A phone appeared in deft fingers, and began swiping towards the News app.

Gonna see if that name was on the news! Yumyumcrow

[Yumyumcrow]

Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, it does not take Star too long in locating the story. House fires have a way of worming their way into the screeds of local news sources; this one in particular was spiced up by the timely intervention of some passing locals. The house is effectively a write off. Sophie Miller is not. She is mentioned in passing on most feeds - perfect grist for the story-mill: a hardworking loner from interstate who was given her break through a scholarship offered by the philanthropic organisation, the Society of Penelope (now headquartered in Folsom).

One news source did a follow up story - a tiny stub of text that indicated Sophie was recovering well and quickly from her ordeal.

[Coco]

"Ice skating," Coco replied with an entirely over-dramatic swoon, hand at her forehead. The charade fell away moments later, replaced with an oddly malcontent baring of teeth in the shape of a grin.

"That wasn't what I was going to compete for. Ice skates are the only blades that I'm only decent with, but unfortunately when combined with, hmm, let's say some courage enhancement, they ended up ruining my dreams." Truth.

"Anyways, it was a knee injury. Never healed right, so sometimes I need the cane." Lie.

The artificial red head paused suddenly, turning to fix Jack with a direct stare, the attempt at a smile gone.

"Do you have that name yet?"

[Star]

"Whoah, what?'

Take another look. Picture orange hair brown. Wait, nope. Besides, age.

"You got Kerrigan'ed?" Yep, that's totally a verb. At least, it is now. "Wait, what? I'm confused. Nope, you know what, it's all good." Blades? Cane? Skates?

Squirrel. Poop. File under Nuttier Than.

"Yeah, ummm, right. The name. I have the name. It's Sophia, wait, no, Sophie, Eeeeee. Sophie. Sophie Miller. Okay, it says she's recovering, ummm, the house is trashed but we knew that, right? And, let's see, she won some sort of scholarship. Doesn't say what for. Like, you know, field of study? But it's some charity thing called the Society of Penelope in Folsom."

A long finger tap-tap-tapped the side of the phone.

"Well. The only Penelope I know is, like, that dude's wife. Odysseus? From that Homer book. Not Simpson, just Homer. Oh, and Cruz. Penelope Cruz." Jack may know a thing or two about brunettes. "That'd be super creeper, though, right? A society devoted to an actress? I'm just thinking out loud." As usual. "Like, maybe that's our in. Penelope reps? I dunno. Unless your Sophia's estranged daughter come to check on her mom with her, uh, ummm. Her lawyer. Right. Her lawyer. Me."

Because nobody's playing Boyfriend to flaming squirrel poo.

[Coco]

"In the original Greek, the Odyssey sounds most lovely, but there is little else that I admire about the tale. I mean, in my opinion it's Clytemnestra worthy of respect, not Penelope, but I suppose my perspective is a bit skewed when it comes to imagining that type of marriage," Coco mentioned, an edged smile appearing on her lips as she imagined the wrathful Argive Queen.

"At the least, you have to admit that she's interesting," the fake fire haired woman continued with an artfully ambiguous gesture, then halted before the Hospital entrance.

"Oh, and I like your idea of pretending to be the representatives. I'll be the Director of Human Activity, Ms. Corday. You should be Mr. Kerrigan. My assistant or something. You decide."