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As Anton begins to awaken Josephine, Anasztaz moves behind her head and leans his hands on her shoulders. He was certain the Bishop could handle it if it came to that, but he wanted to avoid any more mess than it was necessary.
That, and he didn't want Josephine to do something under the throes of torpor that she would regret. Like biting the Bishop's face.
In the throes of Torpor, held down by medical restraints, fingers continued to claw at the doctor's skin. In her mind, as she peered up at each of the Kine, scalpels carved out irregular, vicious incisions on her body. Her skin was peeled back, and the intense pain of her organs being poked and prodded in an experimental fashion, brought a savage cry.
The closest, an elderly grubby face the doctor recognised as the last tramp she had experimented on before being thrown from Chicago, loomed closer than the others. He reeked of garbage, of dirt and the scent filled her nostrils. It was repulsive. He reached out a hand, her own blood dripping from the fingers, and grasped her jaw. He yanked it open.
In the other hand he held a surgical saw. The tramp, becoming hazier now as she dreamed, brought the saw closer to her mouth. Blood dripped into her mouth, filling her throat. The saw cut steadily through her gums...
And suddenly the images faded further, dissipating into dull, murky colours. Some manner of clarity began to enter her vision. There was a ceiling, where previously there had been a cloudy sky. The old man was replaced by a hard-faced Hispanic Kindred...he was the one who had stabbed her. How did she get inside? Who was holding her down?
The urge to fight, and flee at the most opportune time flooded her. Josephine began to struggle, finding her hands free of restraints she raised her hands. Anasztaz had seen her fighting before, trained and measured - this time however, there was a wilder movement. It was more a desperate flail than any attempt to take out the assumed enemy.
Josephine bared her fangs, irrationally relieved to find there had been no attempt to cut them out, like...
She let out a hiss, momentarily stilling her efforts to flee. "You!"
"Of course, your Grace," Sidor said, with a respectful inclination of his shadow-wreathed head. He stepped towards the door and held it open for Conner Greyson. "After you, Deputy Greyson."
He trusted that Josephine would be well-cared for, and gave a concerned look towards the formerly torpid Kindred as she came around. He made no comment to Greyson's assumption that Anton would be Priscus. While it was likely true, he didn't like the idea of the Mekhet interferring with his family's business. Particularly when there were much more important things to worry about.
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Anton pressed a hand against the side of Josephine's head, pinning her gaze towards faded floral wallpaper that peeled near the ceiling.
"We've never met before," Anton replied. "As I understand it, somebody made my first impression for me."
The Bishop looked up at Anasztaz, as though prompting him to confirm what he'd said.
Amelita Cardoso|Striking Looks •• (Curvez)|Presence ••• (Miss Thang)|Conner held up a hand to Sidor instructing him to wait a moment as he watched the resurrection of the Doctor. "Doctor Powell, The Priscus speaks the truth, Priscus Flores was with me, at Moore House when you were attacked." Conner says.
Once that issue was resolved Conner turns and makes his way into the adjoining motel room. "Tell me what happened. I will be analyzing your aura so be truthful." Conner says, he had no doubt that Sidor would be honest, being as his people was attacked and his Bishop was set to take the fall.
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"Steel yourself, Doctor. As hard as it might be." Anasztaz follows on queue with a nod after the Bishop looks at him.
His arms won't ease. He wasn't ready to let her go. Not until he was sure she was completely herself.
"It was a... misunderstanding. We'll seek to remedy. In a way that you'll find fitting to your tastes, no less. Trust me."
Her eyes narrowed still as she studied the Deputy, her attention only flickering away when she was forced to look at that disgusting floral print. It was probably inappropriate timing, but Josephine had never been partial to floral wallpaper; it was simply too busy for her tastes.
When the second, unfamiliar voice spoke Josephine tried to turn around but to no avail. It appeared the doctor would have to wait until she was allowed to sit... But surely they were lying? Why would someone attack them so savagely? It was a meeting! Clearly the second man was enforcing some bizarre lie: after all, Dirge, the Kindred she had met only fleetingly, was Priscus.
Unless a vote had taken place. How long had she been torpored for?
Needless to say, the comment did not reassure her in the slightest and the issue was not yet resolved. However, as Josephine heard Anasztaz spoke, some normalcy resumed. She knew that voice, at least. Slowly, the doctor started to relax.
"I...I'm fine," Josephine forced out, the words still a hiss. On the otherhand, it appeared the fight in her was dissipating. Coherence was returning.
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"You're more than fine, you're well. Welcome back, Doctor." Anasztaz says, easing the pressure on her shoulders with a pat and allowing her back up.
He tried to be as comforting as he could, he could only imagine how harrowing the experience had been.
"We missed you."
Josephine gave a curt nod in the first instance, as she swung her legs over the bed. She felt irritatingly out of odds with herself; it was not a feeling that she was too accustomed to.
"Thank you," the doctor stated to Anasztaz, her tone lacking the polite curiosity displayed at the start of the meeting. She seemed brusque, aloof as she internally shook herself. "What happened?" Josephine questioned, her gaze shifting to from one Kindred to the other.
"If you aren't the bastard who gate crashed, where's your twin fled to?" she questioned Anton coolly. It felt good to concentrate on anger; it kept her mind from straying to recent, less savoury thoughts.
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Anton watched the dead flesh of his arm knit together as Josephine questioned him coldly. He looked down at her, distracted.
"Keep a civil tongue, please," he croaked. "I couldn't say, being that I was across the city with Greyson."
He looked to Anasztaz and Josephine, tugging his sleeve over the healed wound.
"Tell me what happened. The weapon used. The direction the assailant took off in. Grigoriev believes this was Dirge's doing. I have no reason to disbelieve him. It fits. It pays to be certain, though. This is a grave matter."
Amelita Cardoso|Striking Looks •• (Curvez)|Presence ••• (Miss Thang)|
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