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[...are you fucking kidding me, Misty?]

There's a huff inside of him. Don't worry, Arthur, he's also annoyed.

[Fighting her will just take more time. I'll guide you back.

Once we get in the elevator, Misty should put Natalie's legs down and tell someone what's happening. We'll be clear and protected by then, but whoever's fighting the killer might need help.]

Edited 2022-12-12 01:15 (UTC)

Arthur pointedly does not press the button, and it's only a little bit because he's rankling at Misty's orders.

"Miss Quigley, we can get Nat to the infirmary ourselves. Go back and call someone, find another warden to stop the fighting now."

"What are you-- I have her legs, I can't just drop her." Shifting around herself, she carefully turns until she's parallel to the elevator, awkwardly using her elbow to hit the button to ding the doors open. "My communicator's in my pocket. Where's yours?"

Ugggggh. No noise, but he's just a little frustrated. His voice holds a bit of that.

[Guide her to the idea, Arthur, just as you did for me early on. The sooner we're through with this, the sooner we can help Natalie and young Mandrake.]

He's not sure the effect of mentioning Arthur's ward to him right now might be but he has to hope that it reminds Arthur of what's important here.

[The legs can be put down for a moment; feet go on the ground anyway and we're holding her top half.]

"Misty, I can carry her on my own," he says, and it's not a snap but it is unbelievably tense. "What I can't do is use any sort of communications device to make the call myself, mine is in my jacket-" the one he is conspicuously not wearing "-and John is attending to his inmate. That bastard downstairs also killed mine, and is no doubt going to kill whoever he's fighting, whom we don't know to be able to identify."

He is trying very hard not to loose his patience but this is so fucking trying. "Please, Misty, call someone. We're not going to let anything happen to Natalie, and we are wasting time arguing."

Edited 2022-12-12 02:07 (UTC)

"Her neck is broken; you're not carrying her over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Whatever happens to her body while she's dead comes back to her during the death toll. We can't let her head flop around."

As she relays this not-entirely-correct assessment of how death tolls work, she wiggles one of Natalie's legs under her arm, pinning it there as she pulls out her communicator.

"Take her head in first; I need to be near the doors so I can press the button." Into her communicator, she adds, "Level [X], hallway. Two, maybe three down."

The message is then sent off to Dracula, who she hopes to god is not alone on infirmary duty today.

[That does not match with what I was told, not that it's worth the argument. She's probably being overly protective.]

He knows he would be. He knows he is. The fact that they got Nate to the infirmary before coming to get Nat is something he's just going to have to live with, even if he stands by that choice. Even if it was the smart call.

[If you turn your head, Arthur, I can guide you backwards. As I recall, there's a slight lip between the door and the floor, so lift your feet a little higher than you would normally on the way out.]

...does he want to argue about whether they should be going backwards? Is Arthur still blind, Misty? For fuck's sake? Yes. Does he think it will do anything more than make them carry Nat for longer? No.

On my way. comes from Dracula's communicator.

"I cannot believe that's accurate," he grumbles - simultaneously to John's complaint, incidentally - but he turns his head, lifting his feet as John advises to get inside.

But he's not ~~tame~~ polite enough to keep quiet on the brief fact: "If you can help it, please don't make me walk backwards more than necessary. Having John with me doesn't mean I can see any better."

"And you wonder why I don't want you carrying her by yourself. Turn around, then; I'll go backwards."

But first, she'll press the button to send them up to level two.

[...that doesn't even make sense. We wouldn't be going backwards if-]

No, no. Arthur does not need him to start getting frustrated. Arthur needs him to be calm and give directions and keep things as smooth as possible through all this.

He's proud of how calm he sounds when he speaks.

[It shouldn't take too long. Then you can go to young Mandrake and I can stay with Misty and Natalie. I'm sure the infirmary has some way to help us get them to a room that isn't so awkward.]

Arthur doesn't need John being frustrated to feel a flash of the cursed emotion himself.

"Miss Quigley, my strength is not in question."

He could certainly go on, about how the only reason she refuses to leave and be reasonable about this whole thing is her pathetic, obsessive hero complex with regards to Natalie, when she is dead and won't even know that Misty is helping her--

--but he is being responsible, and keeps all of that inside. Clenches his jaw with the effort of it, but he keeps it in.

"Okay, well, good thing we're talking about your navigation," she mutters, internally grumbling at Arthur's ridiculous insistence on picking fights now, of all the times--

Keep on task, she reminds herself. Arthur doesn't fucking matter.

The doors slide open, and she steps out backwards, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder.

"Don't you dare let me bump into anything. And don't use the excuse of being blind, either; I know he's talking to you in your head."

[Is there some reason you can't walk sideways? The hallway is wide enough.
Or at least slantways. Or- wait, wasn't she walking facing forward before when we were going down the steps?]

Edited 2022-12-12 04:12 (UTC)

"Face forwards, Miss Quigley!" he snaps, and it's a lot more vicious with his fraying patience. "By the time John warns me you'll have already hit something. Be fucking sensible!"

"That is not how you lift people properly, and is a great way to strain your back or your arms," she hisses, anger finally breaking through. "Turn sideways once we're out of the elevator and stop being a fucking asshole."

John can't speak outside of Arthur, but he's holding half of Natalie, which is why he's going to nudge from his side specifically.

STOP.

And then he's going to start moving and they can both just shout or they can fucking get Natalie to the Infirmary, for fuck's sake.

[You'll be done with her soon, Arthur. I'll handle Misty once she's in a bed.

Don't worry. I haven't forgotten what we talked about.]

John's nudge is entirely what prevents Arthur biting back, but his mouth opens to do so when John nudges Nat, and he adjusts his grip quickly just in case.

"Fine." It's a furious snap, more akin to the growl of a muzzled fight dog. "Fine." But he finally acquiesces, opting to walk sideways so John can see and Misty won't fucking trip like an idiot and they can get Natalie somewhere safe for her sake and John's and fuck Misty. "Come on, then."

This would be so much easier with the potato sack method.

Luckily, the infirmary doors are wide, and she's able to bump the one on her end open with her shoulder.

"There are private rooms in the back; I don't know how many."

"We're putting her on the bed next to Master Mandrake," he says, and while before he has been angry in hot flashes, there and gone again in a second, this is a low, cold growl that demands not to be fucked with. "And we are not discussing this. Both us need to watch our inmates, and we cannot do so in separate rooms."

The thought of he and John separating right now? Is not even a question.

"Fine," she says, though it clearly takes effort.

"Thank you."

With John's help, he's able to make their way to the right bed, and it takes hoisting his own knee onto the bed to be order to lay down Natalie in the rough centre of it, but finally - finally, they manage to lay her down properly.

John's hand finds a chair left there, and Arthur flops heavily into it; and now that the situation is apparently resolved, with both their inmates secured and another warden on the case to solve it, he finds that he's trembling, aggressively. And he lifts his hand to rub down his face, with a long, tired sigh.

"How are you holding up, John?"

Misty says nothing. She perches herself on the side of the bed, near Natalie's cold, pale arm. She pulls out her communicator, and sends a short text to Pagan.

Only now that they're no longer walking does she start to breath heavily, like she's just reached the top of an eight-floor staircase.

[I'm all right, Arthur.]

Very calm, very collected. It's one of those times when it's more obvious than not that he's a fragment of an ageless entity. He's not unfeeling, no, the farthest from it... but he's drawing on some of that part of himself to keep himself steady.

The other hand will lightly run through his hair, straightening it a little bit.

[You're trembling, Arthur. Did- you weren't hurt by the fight, were you?]

There's a little bit of alarm at the idea, but not much. Just concern, and the knowledge that something might have happened, there's an off chance. And a greater chance that Misty wouldn't say anything about it since she'd hardly looked at Arthur.

"I, uh." He swallows and takes a deep breath, breathing it out slowly to try and settle himself. "I'm not harmed. Strained, certainly, I-I think I rolled my ankle on the stairs earlier, but. I'm fine."

A temporary limp was a nothing price to pay for his negligence.

He glances over towards the sound of Misty's heavy breathing, and his expression finally softens. Something more compassionate, now. "Are-- are you alright, Miss Quigley? I understand what a... a-a shock this must be."

Her response is delayed by a few seconds, but when she finally looks up, it's to give him a surprised look.

"Sure," she says, and swallows. "Sure, I'll be fine."

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