"you've got to be kidding me" [Io & Calliope]

shrimp
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"you've got to be kidding me" [Io & Calliope] Jan 18, 2015 1:12:18 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Jan 18, 2015 1:12:18 GMT -5

I O W I E

Late nights in the ward are eerie when you're the only one there. Gladys clocked out for the night two hours ago with a "You'd better not sleep here again Io Wie I swear to god," and the patients are sound asleep (I've been able to put some salve on their wounds but we're running out and I doubt there will be another shipment for months).

This is what I do on Saturday nights; I take the graveyard shift, catching up on studying and researching as much as I can. There's still so much more I have to learn - how do the doctors know it all? I'm not even a quarter of the way through this encyclopedia of illnesses and disorders and I already feel like my brain's going to burst. The notebook I've brought with me is useless at this point, because what kind of notes can I jot down that aren't already in this book? Plus everything's important when diagnosing a patient, I can't just take what I think is useful because what if it's not?

The coma page has been ripped out and I don't know why.

I sigh what seems to be more of a groan and flip the book shut with a bang. Oh wait shit people are sleeping. The woman lying on the closet bed turns her head towards me and the only thing I can do is whisper apologies and sneak out of the room. So I change my residency from inside the ward to just outside of it, where the factory still churns on automatic and all optional lights have been switched off.

Where can I get info about comas? District 6, maybe. I'll totally be able to find out from them. Hah, I'm hilarious. But... wait, I could - there was a rumor I heard floating about with the higher ups, conversations that I did not spy upon I just happened to be walking by that led me to believe that there was a coma ward in 6, one that the boss happened to know about. How he does, I have no idea. Rich people have connections.

His office is locked, but I have a bobby pin, and I sneak in and quietly close the door. Maybe the Peackeepers will talk to him about me, but I can explain myself, right? Besides, he likes me. Maybe a bit too much. He's got a list of numbers too, fantastic.

I hope they don't have caller ID.

It rings for a long time before someone finally picks up the phone, and I realize I haven't planned on what to say. I can't say I'm from five, that'll mean that I won't get my answers.

"Uhhh hi! I'm just your um, average student from district 6 - I'm uh, interning at the medical lab and I actually had some questions about comas if you would be willing to speak to me."

Nailed it.

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Last Edit: Jan 18, 2015 1:12:46 GMT -5 by shrimp

L△LIA
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"you've got to be kidding me" [Io & Calliope] Jan 18, 2015 17:17:59 GMT -5

Post by L△LIA on Jan 18, 2015 17:17:59 GMT -5

i’m a born hater
dali van picasso
i’m velazquez, millet
el fuckin greco
it’s my echo

The thing about confidence is that it can make a person stupid. Not just sort of stupid, but the kind of stupid that put the thought in Calliope Bloom's head that she could cook a batch of meth while blindfolded. It was the type of bet her brothers might have made with each other if they'd had some brains paired with their own impulsive recklessness, except she didn't even have the excuse of being dared into it. She was just feeling arrogant and bored — a dangerous combination, as it turns out.

It could have been worse. Nothing exploded or caught fire, but it was lucky she had enough sense to be wearing her trusty gas mask. A few days with the windows open should clear things out enough for the apartment to become inhabitable again and in the mean time she's decided to crash at the coma ward with Poe. The chair next to his bed is comfortable enough to catch a couple hours of sleep, the hospital staff dwindling away with the daylight.

Night comes — her usual working hours and the start of her day — and the place is empty. It's kind of nice, wandering the hallways without the awkward side-glances and whispers. In the wake of the Sixty-Eighth Finale, the Capitol has revived both of Calliope's Top Eight interviews, weaving together the tragic tales of her losses to dredge up old curiosity and pity. (She can only thank Ripred that no one ever knew about her visit to Ethan Taurus, because wouldn't that have been the cherry on top of this fucked up Capitolite treat.) Next year will be the tenth year anniversary of Mace Emberstatt's Victory and this new chapter in Calliope Bloom's story of woe is evidently just the transition and kick-off momentum they were hoping for.

A phone rings from twenty feet away at the nurses station, an audio wrecking ball swinging around in the middle of Calliope's peace and quiet. No one answers and no one answers and, still, no one answers, but the ringing doesn't stop. It's as if the person on the other end of the line has decided to devote their life to ruining hers with a sick determination to summon people back into her vacant hallway. Somebody's got some balls. Impulsiveness pricks at her bones, dangerous with confidence, and suddenly the girl is strutting toward the epicenter of her annoyance and hopping over the counter into forbidden territory. (She already did this once, what's so bad about doing it again?)

The receiver isn't even all the way to her mouth before she starts her mini-rant. "Comas or not, nobody wants to hear this incessant ringing. Patient's rights and whatever — not to mention mine. Show some respect for the half-dead. What do you even want?" She's not blindfolded this time, but that doesn't mean she's not still plenty blind to a couple of unexpectedly important details.

Last Edit: Jan 18, 2015 17:30:31 GMT -5 by L△LIA

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shrimp
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"you've got to be kidding me" [Io & Calliope] Jan 19, 2015 1:38:40 GMT -5

Post by shrimp on Jan 19, 2015 1:38:40 GMT -5

I O W I E

Uh.

What.

If this is a doctor then she sure is terrible at her job. What kind of doctor says that about her patients? I'm sorry that it's late at night but does that mean that I should have just waited to call? This is basically my only opportunity to do so anyway, and since both tributes from 6 were at the ward prior to their reaping they might as well have a big sign on their doors that says "Coma Expert".

And I'm tired and I'm literally breaking the law to do this and I'm not going to put up with her shit.

"Okay I'm sorry but what kind of bedside manner is that? Frankly if this is the fabled center that people praised about in the freaking Tribute Interview then I'd expect them to be a lot more courteous when talking to people on a goddammed telephone. And half-dead? Are you kidding me? They're not half-dead they're unconscious and they can't be woken up by normal means. Treat your patients like people." Huff.

"And I was calling, because you guys are supposed to be the best at what you do and I had some questions about it, but if this is how you act maybe you're not so great after all. No wonder he didn't make it out of the arena."

I can't handle this right now. I just want to know more, I need to know more and this jerk probably isn't even going to give me any information and so what do I do now? It's only like, what - wait - actually I don't even know what time it is where is my watch?

Fuck.

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Last Edit: Jan 19, 2015 1:39:13 GMT -5 by shrimp

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"you've got to be kidding me" [Io & Calliope] Jan 25, 2015 16:45:08 GMT -5

Post by L△LIA on Jan 25, 2015 16:45:08 GMT -5

i’m a born hater
dali van picasso
i’m velazquez, millet
el fuckin greco
it’s my echo

"Listen up, little miss average." Bad luck can be a black cat crossing her path or a cracked mirror, but it can also be something that broke a long time ago. Glass, laying at her feet, unswept and walked across again and again. "Here's everything you need to know about coma patients: They are half-dead — that's what all the life support machinery is for — and, seeing as how they're totally unconscious, they couldn't give less of a fuck about how godawful my bedside manner is." It cuts and bleeds, but mostly it haunts her so she sees it in every shadow and hears it in the most off-hand of words. "Even if they were awake, what do I care? Poe would be K.O. all over again if he woke up and mouthed off to me for being a little less than polite to him after this —" her voice turns so high pitched and mocking that it's impossible to hear the sincere tone of abandonment hidden within, "— duces, Cal, it's coma time! stunt. Even he's not that stupid. Almost, but not quite."

"You, on the other hand?" Taking a seat in one of the swiveling chairs, Calliope Bloom looks like she's just claimed her throne as Queen of Fuck You You Fucking Fuckatopia and the law of the land is clearly about to be laid down. "You want help and you think you're going to get it by ranting and insulting me? Stellar. Plan. Ranting and insulting are the only reasons I talk to people." Fact. "You can't do that. That's what I do. Me not you. No half-rate lab intern is going to take that away from me. So here goes: You're a lousy, two-bit failure of a suck-up and I hope you have a better back-up life plan than becoming a phone sex operator after you flunk out of medical school, because so far you have seduced me not at all into helping you."

She's got the phone pinned between the side of her face and her shoulder for hands free mode. Like this, she's able to turn her fingers into two jabbering hand puppets, mockingly chattering back and forth at each other. "No wonder he didn't make it out of the Arena," her voice is doing that high pitched ridicule thing again, "oh yeah, that's a grrreat way to win over Galaxy Rose-Clements' best friend and Aesop Bloom's little sister. Next," her voice thrums with sarcastic laughter, but her feet are surely bleeding again within her shoes, "you should say something about my shitty parents or my ugly hair! You're definitely who I want to take sensitivity lessons from." Who the victim and who the black cat in this conversation is might be up for debate, but everything else has probably just become very clear. "Please oh please, teach me how to be just. Like. You." There's a pause and the corner of her mouth hitches into a sardonic smile. "Asshat."

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