2019-08-08 - Old-Timey Gunfights and Aftermaths

Isolde hadn't wanted to stay in the hospital but the doctors had insisted. She wasn't as injured as Isabella or the Captain, but she was still shot up. Two to the chest - a miracle that it hadn't hit anything vital - and she did also get grazed on the side of her head and it was badaged up some to show!

She was awake, unable to sleep any kind of restfully even though they had her on some painkillers. The TV was playing reruns of The Brady Bunch though it didn't seem that Isolde was paying much attention to it. Her gaze wandering around the room instead. Looking a little distressed at being here and lacking her 'security blanket' which was her ragged flannel. That was now totally ruined and in the possession of the cops

There's a knock at the frame of the door. Alexander appearing there. He's got a small bouquet of wild flowers (mostly wild - a couple of Isolde's flowers and a couple of his from the indoor garden have been added, to make things more familiar) in one hand, and a small bag in the other. He's actually overdressed - wearing a long-sleeved button down shirt over his regular t-shirt, although the buttons are open so the band logo (or what's left of it) can be clearly displayed. "You're up," he says, with a smile that doesn't hide the worry in his eyes. "Mind if I come in?"

He's already coming in, to place the flowers by her bed, so if she says no, it's likely to be awkward.

Isolde's gaze slides over to Alexander at the knock. There were a few tears running down her face but she quickly wipes them away. "Alexander." Her voice is soft, clearly her throat some. "Of course you can come in." Even though he was already halfway to her bed by the time she says it. Carefully sitting up a little more, she looks to the flowers. "You brought me flowers. Thank you. They're so pretty." Though her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. She feels bad that she's made him worry.

"How is Isabella? Have you seen her yet?" Worried for the other woman.

"I'm trying to do the rotation," Alexander says, a little dry and wry to hide his own concern. "Since it seems a tremendous percentage of the people who I like all ended up in the hospital at the same time. Isabella and the Captain have more medical staff hovering around them, though." He swallows, once, before pausing at the end of her bed and picking up her chart without so much as a may-I. A quick glance through, then he's moving to sit down, the small bag swinging from his hand. "How are you feeling, Isolde?"

"They did get hurt much worse." Isolde agrees. She doesn't seem to mind him looking at her chart. There isn't much to it, because she is essentially a jane doe. No valid ID and she didn't give them her real name, judging by the 'Jennifer Fields' on the chart. But it says she sustained two gun shot wounds to the chest and a wound to the head. No majort arteries hit. Pain killers prescribed and maybe one more day in the hospital for observation.

Isolde gives a slight shrug. "I won't be doing any running or dancing for a while." A wry smile. "It hurts, but I will be okay. I just want to go home." She took the flowers from him so she could examine them closer. "Do you think they will let me come home soon?"

"You were very lucky. You were all very lucky." Alexander frowns at her, a touch of anger rising there despite his best efforts to project calm reassurance. He's just not a very good actor. "What happened, Isolde? The police reports that I've been able to access are," a harsh, derisive sort of breath, "inadequate. Not that I would expect them to be otherwise, but a little effort would at least be appreciated on their parts." What the police could possibly do about a whole bunch of people getting spontaneously shot is not something he goes into, because there's no good answers. And it doesn't matter - he has to be angry at SOMEONE.

His hands tighten on the bag, making the plastic crinkle. "But we'll get you back on your feet. You'll be okay."

"You won't like it." Isolde murmured, looking to the bag. "What's in the bag?" Stalling a little. And then she drew in a careful breath. "It was Gohl." She said quietly. "We were all sitting in the bar. And...he came in. I didn't know it was him. He was all...westerny. Called Easton, Chuck." Closing her eyes a moment. "Then these old timey cop cars were there...it was a stand off...they were shooting at us. I tried to protect Bella..."

"There is absolutely nothing about this situation that I like, Isolde, except the fact that none of you are dead," Alexander says, tonelessly. Otherwise, he listens. His brow furrows. "Old-timey? And Isolde..." a soft, exasperated sound, "trying to protect others is good, but you should protect yourself, as well. A gunfight is something to stay out of, if you can." Her question about the bag startles him, he glances down. "Oh. This. Yes." He reaches inside, brings out something cupped in his hand. "I thought...I actually started putting it together a few weeks ago, but hospitals are terrible, I thought it might be a good time to give it."

He reaches out and places something on the blankets just above her lap. It's a bracelet, a pretty little thing with multicolored stone beads separated by charm links. And from the links dangle almost a dozen small charms: each one a frog. They look like they're from different places - there's a couple of goofy plastic ones, and a rather lovely silver one, and two tiny ceramic ones, and a couple of carved wood ones. He smiles at her. "I thought that you should maybe always have some frogs to count, near at hand."

"She tried to protect me too." Isolde looked like she might laugh, but laughing hurt. So she just smiled a little. "I will try to stay out of gun fights for now." She promised, watching the bag with curiosity as he set it down. She reached into it, pulling the bracelet out. Eyes wide. She could feel tears starting to well up again and tried hard to swallow them down. Carefully thumbing over the frogs. "It's beautiful Alexander." Looking up at him, wiping at her eyes again and smiling. "I love it." Holding the bracelet out, "Will you put it on me?"

"Of course she did," Alexander says, fond and exasperated all at once. "And I would appreciate it. If you did." He tries to say it lightly; it comes out heavy and worried, instead. But the furrowing of his brow eases at her reaction to the charm bracelet, his shoulders softening. "It's not particularly fancy, but I'm glad you like it." There's a nod at the question, and he carefully reaches out for it, unhooking the simple clasp and slipping it around her wrist before refastening. It's a delicate maneuver, care taken not to touch her in the process. The sleeves on his long-sleeved shirt ride up a bit, revealing one arm with its own bandages. "There. Portable good things, for a good friend."

Isolde watches intently as the bracelet is put on. A touch of concern when she noticed badages on his arm. She rests her hands in her lap then, toying with the charms carefully. "Thank you again." Smiling a little brighter. Then it faltered a bit. "What did you do to your arm?" Because he had been getting himself hurt enough! Really now. Everyone was going to need to be wrapped up in bubble wrap soon.

"You're welcome." Alexander glances towards the door. "I'll see what I can do about getting you the hell out of this place with alacrity. Your wounds seem like you could recover just as well back at my place. If you want." A glance back to her, just to make sure. Then the question. He frowns at the sleeve, twitches it down to cover the bandage. "I cut it in the kitchen." A pause. "August, a friend of Itzhak's, brought us a large bag of vegetables. I begin to feel like every man in this town knows how to cook except me. Time to fix that, probably." A brief, bright smile. "Which means that you'll have to agree to be my long-suffering test subject while I figure things out."

"I would rather be home, than here, yes." Isolde agreed with a nod. Peering at him when he said he was trying to cut vegetables, but she wasn't going to pressure him. And who knows, he very well could have! Isolde feigned a cringe. "I guess I can suffer through it." Brightening up then. "I will look up recipes for you to try while I'm stuck in here."

"A good idea. I'm a little lost, myself. There are aubergines, Isolde. I have no idea what to do with aubergines," Alexander confesses, eyes wide open in mock panic. Not that isn't TRUE - Alexander has quite possibly never seen one in a pre-cooked state before that bag - but he's clearly exaggerating his general air of panic so that he can try and make her smile. "I'll talk to the doctors. My mother used to work here, so I know a couple of them. A little."

"Aubergines?" Isolde repeated the word. "What is that even?" Then she does laugh, it's quiet and short. A little wince to go with it. "Okay. Hopefully they let me go." She nodded, looking down at her bracelet and there's a shudder with her exhale. "I need to get a new flannel." Fingering one of the plastic charms. "Maybe I can find one at the thrift store. They have good things."

"Eggplant. I believe. Large, purple, sort of shaped like..." Alexander starts to sketch it out in the air, then blinks. "Ah. I suddenly understand the Captain's question." He makes a breathy laugh. A smile at her. "They'll release you as soon as possible. My word on it. Luigi already misses you."

He winces at mention of the flannel. He doesn't know why it's so important to her, but he clearly knows that it is. "I'm sorry, Isolde. Did they dispose of it, or has it been taken into evidence? If the latter, we may be able to retrieve it."

There's a bit of a smile again at the mention of Luigi. "He really just misses the meerkats." Isolde focused back up on Alexander, lacing her fingers together. "I think the police have it." She shook her head a touch. "But. It has blood on it. Lots. They may have thrown it away." The grip on her fingers tightens but then relaxes. "Maybe we can get it back." She doubts it. But even if it's not wearable anymore, she would like to have it. Time would tell, Isolde supposed. "Can you tell Itzhak I'm okay? I don't want him worrying."

"I'll see what can be done." Alexander doesn't sound incredibly hopeful on that front, but his jaw is also set in a mulish sort of line, so some poor evidence clerk may be about to have a bad day if the flannel was just casually tossed in the garbage. To the request, he nods. "I was going to ask about that. How your date went, and whether you wanted me to give him your room number, visiting hours, all of that?"

Isolde brightens then, at the memories of the date. "It was wonderful." She admitted. "The saxophone man was there. I felt so...happy. More than I have in a long time." She relaxed back against the pillows. "Yes, I would like that. You can give him the information. If they make me stay, he can visit. I just don't want worrying."

"Good. Good. No tossing into the ocean and fleeing required, then," Alexander says, oh so solemnly. "I'll let him know. And I'll convey your wishes that worrying is strictly forbidden." Now that? He clearly doesn't think that's going to go well, but she asked, so he'll do it. "And even if you get to come home, I'll make it clear he's welcome to drop by anytime to visit. Because, even at home, you will be resting. You should call the farm, when you get a moment. Let them know you'll be out."

He frowns, thoughtfully, looking at her. "Have you ever done any receptionist work?"

"I hope your future date with Isbella also does not end in anyone getting pushed in the ocean." Isolde mused, closing her eyes again. "Tell her I said hello. When you see her." Thinking for a moment. "I will let bossman know. I shouldn't work, you're right." Peeking one eye open. "Receptionist? Hrm...a little bit. Long, long time ago."

"She might actually consider it more of a success if it does," Alexander murmurs, as much to himself as to her. But he smiles. "I will. And you're getting tired, so I won't keep you too much longer. But Dr. Vivian Glass - she's a psychiatrist that I'm seeing. She's only recently come to the city to build a practice, and she's having trouble finding a full-time receptionist. I thought about you, but wasn't sure if it was work you might want. It'd be in town, but it'd be in an office." He reaches out to gently pat her arm over the hospital gown. "Don't worry about it right now. But if you decide you're interested, I'll give you her number."

"Dr. Glass." Isolde nodded and gave another smile. "I will think about it. Thank you." She sighed quietly. "I am glad you came to see me. Tell Luigi I said hi too." Closing her eyes again and it wouldn't take long for her breathing to even out as she fell asleep.