2019-10-06 - Flu Shots

A blessed, blessed lull falls over the hospital waiting room around seven in the evening. All the panicked parents with feverish kids have been seen and sent home - plenty of fluids, bed rest, Tylenol - and all the people that really need help are getting it from people who aren't Hailey. She's collapsed into a chair in the aforementioned waiting room, staring at the television with the news on it in the way of a person not really watching it, just sorta looking at it because it's there and moving and stuff. Rumpled scrubs, lab-coat stain-speckled, hair messed, she's had a day - but that's hospital life, amirite?

Her attention shifts abruptly when someone with an awful lot of sneezing and coughing starts attacking the vending machine because it just ate their LAST GODDAMN DOLLAR. There's about to be a fight between the robbed patron and the Coke machine. She intends to watch.

Today, Abby's light blue scrubs with the smiling daisies on them cut a contrast with the woman wearing them. The lower half of her face is currently covered in a mask, and the circles under her eyes are dark and deep. She shuffles along, half dragging her colorful clogs along as she comes to stand near Hailey, hands resting on her hips for support as her shoulders deflate. "I def'tly 'ave the flu," she says, and sniffles behind the mask, raising one hand just long enough to wave at her face.

"I never catch the flu," she says. Grumpy. Like this is a personal affront and someone is doing it on purpose. On a normal day, she might intervene to try to smooth over the altercation between man and machine. Today, she just stares.

With an edge of apology in her tone, like she's really sorry to even ask this question (just not quite sorry enough to NOT ask), Hailey tilts a tentative smile up at Abby. "Did you get a flu shot this year?" She hooks a foot around the leg of the chair next to hers, scraping it across the cheap-tile floor till it slings toward the suffering nurse - then extends her foot so it's like the entire length of her leg away. Germ-safety! "Take a load off, at least till the eight o'clock rush rolls in? You want some ginger ale?"

Which probably won't happen. The guy just punched the Coke machine right in what would be its face with all his strength. The light behind the logo on the machine sputters. The security guard approaches. The guy makes LOUD NOISES about his last damn dollar.

Hailey tries, "Or maybe a juice box?"

While Erin Addington had done her the incredible favor of healing the worst of her lacerations, prior experience has dictated that she should be keeping up appearances at the very least. So Isabella is still here. She is still in her embarrassingly backless gown and there are still staples running down her back from the gash that used to be there, taped up and bandaged. It makes her look a little bit like a stegosaurus, if a stegosaurus had flat spinal scales and had a penchant for wearing navy blue boyshorts, which she is unashamedly flashing people with as she walks carefully down from her recovery room and towards the vending machine she knows is there. Because there's a point where people sometimes just hit their particular threshold of Had It With This Nonsense and enter some manner of enlightened state of apathy; she doesn't care who sees anymore.

What she does care about is the sight of an obviously afflicted patient treating the vending machine like a bouncy clown, because she still needs that. Green eyes narrow, her expression tightening, because the urge to grab the back of the person's head and shove it deep in the receiving slot and holding him there while feeding the machine so many dollars just so she can push all the buttons and rain cans on him in perpetuity is there. She manages to control herself, though. Somehow.

"I swear to God if that thing breaks," she murmurs.

Why is Harvey in the hospital? He doesn't look hurt, he doesn't even look sick, although he's wearing one of those super cool looking face masks that he currently has tucked way down over his mouth, so it's more of a chin-scruff mask than something that would keep him actually protected. He comes ambling down the hall back from the patient rooms, one hand shoved in his pocket and a notepad dangling from the other. It puts him in the direction of the Mad Man with the Coke Machine, and while you should never get between a Man and his Coca-Cola? Harvey lives on the side of danger.

"You kill more flies with honey," or something like that. "Pretty sure beating the machine isn't going to do anything. You try shaking it?" Helpful Harvey is helpful.

"Yes, I got a flu shot," Abby answers Hailey's question with the faintest hint of a frown, and gestures to the waiting room. "I'm not the only one. I don't think the vaccine caught this strain this year," she continues with a shake of her head, and wipes her forearm at her brow. "I'm fine. I'm going to have to call it in tomorrow, though," she groans, grumpy again, before letting herself flop into the offered chair. "Thank you, I'm good though."

She sniffles a little more and watches the scene over by the vending machine, because at least it's some form of entertainment that doesn't require any mental engagement on her part, and that seems to suit her fine. She does look around, and her gaze catches over Isabella. Alas, mask, so she only smiles with her eyes, and that's a little strained right now. But she does wave her fingers, before starting to go through her pockets.

Since neither ginger ale nor juice will do, Hailey pulls a sympathetic face at Abby. "I could call in a scrip for you? Cough syrup with codeine, and I'll wake you up in five days." But she shakes her head, 'cause that's not a real offer (probably), and because there are people over there trying to help the guy that's molesting the Coke machine. So she leans forward, elbow on the arm of the terrible lobby chair, chin on the heel of her hand. "I don't know whether to root for the machine, the guy that got robbed, or all the spectators."

While the guy that lost his money is like, "REALLY?! More flies with honey? Thanks for that!" He mashes the 'gimme my money back' button a bunch, to no avail, and the security guard chimes, "Don't shake the machine. If this thing breaks..." Unwittingly echoing Isabella's unfinished threat. The guy immediately starts shaking the machine.

She's still eyeballing the frantic vending machine assaulter when some of the nearby individuals look familiar, and there's something about Abby that has always managed to soothe her temper. From homicidal to smiling, if not somewhat ruefully, at the drop of a hat, she wiggles her half-bandaged fingers at the other Reed, and takes in the look of her scrubs today, because she always tends to wear cute ones. "Super Nurse." Her voice, too, is low and thready from the flu she is just getting over, though the state of her pulls her smile down in a frown. "Oh, no. It got you too, huh?"

Hailey, too, gets a polite and affable smile. "Doctor." Green eyes fall on the tag, faint recognition crawling over features rendered gaunt by her recently illness, though she hesitates from saying anything more. Stevenson isn't an uncommon surname, after all.

This is really where all those fancy Glimmery skills come in handy. But you know what Harvey's not gonna do? Use his crazy mind powers in this situation. Instead? He's gonna use pure brute strength. Rolling up his sleeves, he welcomes everyone to the gun show, flashing one of those patented dimpled smiles towards the security guard as he steps to the side of the machine. "It did steal his money. There's no harm in giving it a little shake-down, yeah? You get it from the right, I got it from the left," then he tips his chin to the angry-dude's way. "You shake it from the front? Maybe we'll get free soda for all."

Harvey's gonna start shaking this machine whether or not the security guard joins in. But who can resist those DIMPLES?!

"I'll be fine," Abby answers, though her nose is a little too stuffed for that to come out sounding right, raising a hand to wave off Hailey's offer with a small crooked smile pushing up her cheeks behind the mask. "I have tylenol and tea. I just need to pick up some lemons," she swings her legs ahead of herself. "I never need anything else." She's definitely very sure about her immunity to the worst of it, even if she did catch the flu this year.

Abby extends the smile to Isabella and makes a face. "It had to happen with how many people are coming in sick," she looks around and shrugs, then raises her eyebrows. "How are you feel...ing?" The pause is to tilt her head and watch Harvey try to convince the security guard and/or the vending machine.

Hailey tips a look up to Isabella, complete with a smile that's appropriate to the greeting. "Hi," she tucks in alongside Abby's greeting for the woman. Then a question is on the tip of her tongue - it's a question about lemons - but she gets there on her own: "Oh. For the tea." Forgive her for being distracted by disarmingly dimpled people attacking soda machines; it's a hard act to ignore.

Or maybe it's because the security guard is like, "Sir. SIR. I'm going to have to ask you to stop - " And that's when all the cans in the machine release at once, falling out of the chute in a loud clatter of aluminum, tumbling all over the floor, rolling everywhere. There must be at least 60 of them. One of them pops open, spraying Squirt everywhere. The guy that started it all (after going "WHOA") leans down and grabs four Cokes, stuffing one in either pocket and one in either hand. Victory! \o/

There's a concerned glance at Abby, though she knows the smile is still there - she can glimpse the way her cheeks round into apples above the mask. "I hope you feel better soon," Isabella says. "This bug's pretty rough." Hailey's smile earns her an answering grin, a gesture to the hanging television screen. "Anything good in the screen out here?" She lowers her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. "The nurse put mine in the Lifetime network. They've been playing the Prince Harry - Meghan Markle movie over and over. Escape was necessary."

But yeah - considering how full the hospital is, it's bound to happen. There's a slight shake of her head at Abby's query. "I'm doing alright, all things considered. I mean, it could be worse..." Her voice, too, trails off as she stares at the newcomer, who decides to aid the hapless vending machine violator in retrieving his last dollar, or the soda that it owes him.

"Wow." The last is a whisper. A ripple of amusement enlivens her wan face.

One of the spilled cans rolls towards their direction. Her foot lifts, heel braced on the floor, letting it stop on the underside. Picking it up, she wordlessly offers it to Hailey. Not that Abby doesn't look like she needs one, but she remembers their last encounter very well and how she was avoiding sugar.

This damnable machine. Harvey puts his notebook aside so that he can give the machine one gentle little push to its side. Then another. Then just as the guard is going: "Sir, SIR!" Harvey puts his entire fucking shoulder into the vending machine to shake the cans loose. He was only trying to get one; the other fifty-nine that proceed to roll out are bonus prizes. "Err. Uh. Someone should probably clean that up, huh?" Ho-hum, he flashes another dimpled grin to the security guard - he's trying SUPER HARD this time. Let's see if it works out for him!

Clearly the security guard isn't susceptible to dimples. Which is why Harvey does something he'll probably regret later. From down the hall, there's the sound of the emergency door being jostled. "Oops, looks like someone's trying to escape," he comments, looking completely innocent as he keeps on grinning to the security guard. He has no choice but to do his job, and thus the security guard points a meaty thumb Harvey's way. "I'll be back," he warns and heads off to figure out wtf is going on. And Harvey? He swoops a couple of sodas off the floor, whistling as he ambles his way towards Hailey and Abby. "I hear you're looking for some lemons?" Abby gets tossed a Sprite which is basically the same thing as lemons. He presents the Cherry-vanilla Coke to Hailey.

Abby nods her head as she reaches up to retie her ponytail. "For the tea. And maybe chicken? I was going to make chicken, if I have it in me to cook anyway," she says to Hailey, dropping her hands and making them wobble faintly to signal uncertainty. She grins again across to Isabella, nose wrinkling visibly behind the mask. "I'll just have to take a few days off and catch up on some sleep. That's not so bad. I could come in if I wasn't contagious..." she flicks one of the bands holding up her mask.

Her eyes stray back to the vending machine, popping wider as the cans suddenly come tumbling down, pulling her swinging legs back towards herself and away from the radius of any soda sprays. Looking up as Harvey heads their way, she blinks. "What?" And then yelps as the Sprite gets tossed her way, bouncing off one hand, then the other, before finally landing on her lap. "Thank you! I don't think I'll be marinading the chicken in this, though. It would probably be terrible, wouldn't it?"

"There's a movie about Prince Harry and Meghan Markle?" Hailey asks this, wide-eyed, while she accepts the soda from Isabella with a quick but authentic thank-you, turning it in her fingers with no indication that she actually intends to drink it. This performance is about to get repeated - she takes the soda from Harvey, too, now one in each hand (like the guy that started all this but with less triumph), though he gets told with a brow-lift, "We need that security guard to keep us safe from ruffians. Unless that's why you're here? You don't look sick or hurt..." (There's more to this pose.)

And now she's knows for suresies that he's not! "So are you here for a new job? Because Abby and me could use someone to marinade some chicken for us while she's at death's door." Silently, she offers one or both of her sodas to Abby in lieu of the Sprite she just got handed: maybe Cherry Vanilla Coke and/or Coke Zero would make a more delicious marinade.

"Oh, god, yes," she tells Doctor Stevenson. "There's two." Two movies, fictionalizing their romance.

Abby's remarks has her grinning again, with a look of unbridled jealousy to match. "Chicken with lemons sounds amazing right about now. I can't cook worth a damn," Isabella says, from a woman who hasn't managed to keep anything down for a week, and now she's starving, and as she eyeballs the vending machine assaulter pocketing cans of soda in his jeans, she looks like she's tempted to eat him. Thankfully, this doesn't happen.

Harvey with his Dimples steps up to them and he, too, gets a casual wiggle of her bandaged fingers.

"Just call me your knight in shining.. coke cans?" Harvey's lips bend into a contemplative frown as he casts another look at the soda cans still littering the ground. The guy who was angry about the vending machine stealing his money takes a few more, shoving them down his shirt. "I don't see any ruffians around here, so I think we're good." Which is why he collapses onto a chair right beside Hailey, sprawling out and tossing his notebook on the empty seat. "I don't know the first thing about marinating chicken, but you're sick?" This to Abby, brows raising, as he oh-so-casually lifts the face mask back up over his mouth and nose. His voice is subtly muffled through the paper now.

"For the record, I was here because all my reporters are tossing their guts up and blowing up the toilets in the office, so I sent them home. Which means I have to be a regular ol' Jimmy Olsen and get back on the beat. We're running another piece on the flu," thus the notebook. Isabella gets a finger-wag back. "You wanna go on record, Doc?" he twists to look at Hailey, brows up, as he reaches with his fingers for the notebook again. "We facing certain death? Are they gonna have to shut down the city? Gimmie the scoop," he flutters his lashes, since his dimples are currently covered by the face mask and cannot be used.

"There's two for now," Abby confirms. Then she reaches out and after hesitating a moment swaps her mildly shaken Sprite for Hailey's Coke Zero. "This will blow up in my face if I open it, won't it?" She asks, giving the can a suspicious look, and just rests it on her knee for now instead.

"I'll probably end up sticking all the lemons in my tea before I get around to the chicken," she says to Isabella with a little grin, though that doesn't last long as she sniffles her way into a short cough. With her symptoms on display, there's not much point in denying that she's sick, so she shrugs in response to Harvey. "I guess I am. But don't worry, I'm calling in sick the rest of the week! That's when the transformation process should be complete. Though it's fine, really, the infected are indisguishable from real humans." She holds a hand cupped over her mouth and waggles her eyebrows as she shares the juicy scoop with Harvey. Almost deadpan.

"Coke cans are pretty shiny," states Isabella, lips quirking upwards when Hailey offers both sodas to Abby to use as marinade for chicken. Her stomach growls in reminder that it still sounds pretty good right now. "Just don't use them until you get home, and you should anyway." There's a disapproving look in the nurse's direction. "This thing's serious." Words about calling in sick for the rest of the week does reclaim her smile. "Good, or I'm taking away your 'S'." It's said teasingly.

But yes, it is serious, and so serious, that Harvey's writing a story about it. There's a glance between the reporter and Hailey when she's asked for the scoop. "Which paper do you write for?" she wonders, curiosity on her features.

"Have you both had a flu shot? Because you should get one while you're here if not." Hailey puts this to Isabella and Harvey, leaning forward in her chair like she'll do them this favor right now if they just say the word. (She might like sticking people with needles; don't judge.) She shakes her head about going on the record, pointing to Abby's answer instead of making up one of her own (cuz that was funny, she clears her throat against a snicker). Then it's a big production made of liberating a pair of latex gloves from her lab-coat pocket, snapping one on before she takes the Sprite from Abby. See everyone? This is why Hailey isn't among the shambling horde.

Also, she puts her two sodas on the floor by her feet where they will get kicked over and remain unsafe to open forever and listens and stops trying to get people to agree to let her stab them with needles plz guys it would make her happy plz

Harvey twists to turn his focus on Abby, brows staying hiked. "So are you saying you're closer to lizard people or pod people? This is great stuff," he pulls a pen from his pocket and pretends to scribble some notes on his paper, looking incredibly serious. "Is the flu shot just another way of ensuring the disease spread? 'Cause I'd believe that," there's some side-eyeing of Hailey as she delights in poking people with needles. "You're an odd duck, Doc. An odd duck indeed." The smile is heard rather than seen.

As to Isabella? Harvey looks to her next, straightening out a bit. "Only the best," read: only, "Newspaper in Gray Harbor. The Gazette," he puffs out his chest in pride and then immediately deflates. "I'm actually the front page editor but I guess we all have to roll up our sleeves and get back in the trenches when the troops are shitting their brains out." It's a lovely image. He tips his head back to Hailey. "Do I get a sticker if I let you shove needles in me?"

"You should," Abby adds her support to the notion of a flu shot, though it's clear it hasn't done her much good. She sniffs, eyeing the can on her lap like she's considering her odds of a faceful of soda right now, then gives Harvey a thoughtful look, tired eyes turning aside like she's mulling the question over. "I'm going to say it feels more like a pod situation? Mucus seems like a pod thing, somehow. But I'll only get hooked into the hive mind around wednesday, so I'm just guessing here." She shrugs, then draws another breath, sounding a little shallow, nose crooking at the mention of the reporters' intestinal distress. "Well, I hope I don't get that."

"I'm just getting over the plague," Isabella tells Hailey, but then she pauses. "....if you think that it'd help prevent a relapse, though, sure." There's a faint smile. "Not a doctor, so I'm perfectly happy to defer to your expertise." She'd even hold out an arm helpfully, in the event that a medical professional actually tells her that yes, indeed, she should get a flu shot, if not just to stave off an actual flu and not a strange illness from the other side.

"Abby's the best Hive Queen there is, she just masquerades as a Super Nurse most of the time because she delegates," she tells Harvey, though she might be a biased audience, though when he starts talking about lizard or pod people, her brows climb higher to her hairline. "You know, this is the second time I've heard lizard people mentioned since coming back here, so you might be onto something." Mention of the Gazette has her grinning faintly. "I've come across one of your reporters once or twice - Kevin Walters? Wait, does this mean he fell in with the sicks, too?" Her expression is indescribable. "Yep. It's official, almost everyone I know's got this thing."

"Considering you just called me a quack?" Hailey squints dubiously at Harvey's request for stickers, hissing in a breath across her teeth before she's willing to commit, "I wouldn't bank on it, but I'll take you up to pediatrics and let you pick your own band-aids." PLURAL. But seriously for Isabella, "If you're still feeling unwell?" Blah blah, she says some stuff about immunizations triggering something and the long and the short of it is, "...so you should wait till you feel better, but I'm game if you are." It's when she's going to get up to accomplish this thing that she knocks over the two soda cans; they roll around on the lobby floor, disappearing beneath chairs. She goes off to try to find them and is thus bending over and peering under chairs when she adds to Abby, "If you do, we should go back to the place that wasn't a soap store and talk to that kid about all those antiemetics he sells." (Translation: they should go buy pot from Greg to settle Abby's tummy.)

"Interesting, interesting. Maybe it's a hybrid? Lizard-pod people, mixed with a little 21-Days-Later Zombie virus. I'm pretty sure this whole town's a government training center anyway," scritch scritch goes his pen upon the paper; Harvey's actually drawing a stick figure that looks vaguely doctory. When Hailey mentions that he called her a quack, he pulls down the face mask to show her the FULL FORCE of his dimples. "I said you're an odd duck. It was meant to be endearing. But I'll go down to Peds because I assume they have lollipops, too." And as he says this, he rolls his shirt sleeve up more, basically expecting to get shot right now.

"I'm actually pretty good," Isabella says to Hailey. "Just achy and sore, but not from the flu." With the woman rising, she turns her attention to the doctor, perhaps making to follow, though she surreptitiously winks at Abby in the doing.

"This whole flu season is odd, so... better safe than sorry," Abby adds, but smirks when Isabella holds out her arm for the shot. She takes out her phone, and apparently scrolls through a couple of messages, though she does lift her eyes to give Isabella a look, "I hope not. Do you need more or less moisturizing if you have scales? I'm getting worried about my budget."

She lifts her legs when Hailey starts looking for the cans on the floor, and lets slip a brief laugh, cut off into a snort at the mention of antiemetics. "You know, I'm... not even sure what hospital policy is on that," she comments after a couple of seconds, then waves it off. "I'll be fine. I never get GI symptoms." She will keep telling herself this. Then arches an eyebrow, glancing from Hailey to Harvey and back.

Brightly, "Oh. Endearing. I get it now. Like - you're a total hack, Harvey." Hailey stops looking for the lost sodas long enough to beam at said hack like that was a great compliment, though the smile slips after a glance at Isabella. "Ahm. I bet," she decides of the achy soreness, eyebrows twitching to put a crease between her brows over fast-blinking, nonplussed lashes. It takes a second for her to get back to the here-and-now, thus meaning she misses the free show (sorry harv), shaking off the distraction with a quick inhale and headshake. "What was I doing?" she asks at Abby. "Oh. Right. Flu shots."

Those sodas just live in the lobby forever now.

"Make sure they don't escape," while she goes and gets things to stab them with. And an employee handbook for Abby.

"Aww, thanks," Harvey touches his hand to his heart and sighs dreamily at Hailey, looking at her with wide, bright eyes as he slumps into his chair. It isn't until she's headed off down the hall to go get needles with which to stab that he looks to Isabella and Abby, a big grin plastered on that pretty face of his. "I think she really likes me," he tells the group. In case they hadn't guessed it.

"Definitely need more. But moisturizing is a must these days anyway, especially when it gets colder. It didn't take long, did it? The moment Summer was done, it was just..." Her fingers wiggle to the side.

There's a startled look when Isabella looks over at Hailey, when her smile slips - because she knows why, and now she knows why she knows why. Lips part faintly; somewhere in the back of her brain, her identity clicks, because while there might be other Doctor Stevensons in the hospital, just how many have that?

For a moment, she's left watching the other woman as she walks away to get them flu shot, and possibly band-aids and stickers. She then slowly sinks into a chair.

"Right? I'm hoping for newt," Abby informs Isabella. She watches Hailey go, glances at her phone again, and keeps an eye on (apparently) her two charges, making sure they're not running anywhere. Her eyes squint meaningfully to let Harvey and Isabella know she's watching, though she's grinning behind the mask. "I don't know, wanting to stab people with sharp objects isn't typically a good sign..." she gives Harvey a look of exaggerated doubt.

Assuming no one escaped while she was gone, and that everyone just sat there on pins and NEEDLES waiting for her, Hailey returns pretty quickly. "Orderly Joe," she's saying on her way back; Harvey should take notes, 'cause this conversation is one more reason the American health care system is so fucked up, "says the hospital has no official policy on cannabis. Then he said some things about schedule one drugs and I walked off. So...?" She makes weighing motions with her hands at Abby. One of those hands has capped syringes in them; the other one has alcohol wipes and MLP band-aids. "I feel like I should at least ask your name before I stab you," Isabella. "I'm Hailey."

"It's fine. It wouldn't be the first time." About being stabbed, and really, Isabella says it with such an exaggeratedly bland face that there's equal odds that she's either joking or not. Her smile lifts up higher, though, at the moment in a good mood, if not just because it feels good to walk around again.

With Hailey returning, she tries to help by dutifully rolling up her sleeve for the doctor, and presenting the meat of her non-dominant arm. "Isabella Reede," she supplies. "It's nice to meet you, Hailey. I wasn't sure before, since I was only told of your last name, but you looked after someone I know while he was here. Also he thinks you really like him." She jerks a thumb over her shoulder at Harvey.

"I mean if that's what she's into, I'm not about to kink shame," Harvey winks at Abby, straightening up when Hailey comes sauntering back in. If he's taking notes on the policies of Addington Memorial, it's all in his head, but he makes sure to flash her the dimples when she returns. "I assume if you're not coming to work high..." he rolls his shoulders back into a swift shrug, and pushes up his sleeve further to make sure Hailey gets the full gun show. Does he flex? Of course he does. Subtly.

"I'm Harvey," he adds in the middle of all these introductions, even if no one asked. Then Isabella's jerking her thumb at him and he gasps in mock offense. "I said no such thing."

When Hailey returns, Abby stands up with the faintest of groans. She smirks at the lack of an official policy on cannabis, and smacks her hands together, "I'm going to go and get the break room bong ready, then!" And then, in a lower voice, just in case, for Harvey's benefit. "There's no bong in the break room." Pause. "It's in one of the janitorial closets." She touches a finger to her lips and winks. Then, a smidge more seriously, she points at herself and points down the hallway. "I have to do a thing, if you'll excuse me." That's for everyone, quiet smiles all around before she hurries off in the direction of the nearest bathrooms.

Having looked after Abby for a solid five seconds silently, Hailey finally tells the room, "I really don't know if she's serious or not," about the bong in the janitor's closet. But whatever! Stop getting distracted, Hailey, and finally notice the muscles before Harvey gives himself an aneurysm. "It's going to hurt worse if you flex." Womp womp. For being such a kill-joy, she will now have to muddle through giving vaccinations without a nurse around to do all the actual work; watch her fuck up ripping open the little alcohol swabby thing, despite focusing intently on it. She'll get there eventually, so be patient, patients!

"Wait, your friend that I looked after thinks I really li-- oh." Hailey doesn't have to finish the thought, since Harvey (who could've let it ride and she'd never have been the wiser) jumps right in. "I'll leave it to you two to figure out who's telling the truth and who's fibbing. Arm please, Miss Reede?" NOW EVERYONE IS GETTING STABBED EXTRA WORSE BECAUSE LIARS ARE BAD.

At least she actually got flu vaccines and not, like, syringes full of snake venom.

"You're a newspaper editor, Harvey. For the best publication in town. People deserve the truth," Isabella returns, grinning over her shoulder at the man and...wait, is he flexing? She squints at him slowly.

She also offers her arm to Hailey now that her sleeve is rolled up.

"The people deserve a version of the truth," Harvey finger-guns in Isabella's direction, pew-pew, after relaxing his flexing arm. Was he flexing? He totally wasn't flexing! But he may be no less than a little relieved that Isabella's getting hers first. It means he has time to lean and streeetch to grab himself a floor soda. "And as you can see, she's not denying anything, so.." He cracks open the soda, holding it away from himself in case it sprays everywhere - it doesn't, it's been resting - and tips the opened can to Isabella before he takes a sip. Slurp. Ahh. This is the life, sodas and stabbings.

Hailey swabby-wipeys Isabella's upper arm, crouching down next to her chair (with new latex gloves on) so she can do all the things that come with immunizations. Like chit-chat with someone about to get a shot so they aren't paying attention because that's what good doctors do for their patients. "This is why people don't trust the media," she mutters and stabs at the same time, shaking her head. "Fake news." And she rocks back onto her heels, smiling up at Isabella. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you've had worse," than one little syringe-prick, she means, then stuffs a cotton ball on the little dot of blood and digs a couple pony band-aid out of her pocket. Isabella gets to pick between Rarity and Twilight Sparkle!

"I hope that version has the lizard people in it," Isabella quips, though really, she's starting to wonder now. Is that actually a thing around here? Because honestly, at this point, she wouldn't be surprised. "Anyway, he's clearly an upstanding reporter and I'm a free range patient who hasn't combed her hair in days. The optics aren't exactly on my side here as far as credibility's concerned."

There's a pause, and lowers her voice to Hailey. "But he totally said it."

She barely flinches when the needle is stabbed through her arm and with the flu shot injected into her bloodstream, she picks Twilight Sparkle, nevermind that that Rarity was the prettier pony by a mile, because Twilight Sparkle is a gigantic nerd and nerds have to stick together.

"A little," she says, her expression taking on a more sheepish bent. "With the worse, I've been falling out of trees since I was a kid, a couple of accidents in the field. Have you been here long, Doctor?"

"Upstanding editor, actually," Harvey points out with a chuckle, "But your hair looks nice." At least he's complimentary while Isabella continues to THROW HIM UNDER THE BUS?! He sips at his soda again, being polite enough not to slurp loudly, while Hailey sticks Isabella with the pointy things. "Pleeeeease tell me there's a Rainbow Dash bandaid in that pocket of yours?" he asks Hailey once the bandaids come out. Harvey is clearly basic.

"Not to mention whatever happened to your back, hands, and feet." Hailey shrugs like it's fine that she just Knows These Things, then plops that band-aid on to hold the cotton ball in place on Isabella's arm, and rattles off some things about flu shot aftercare (tl;dr - the flu shot doesn't give you the flu or whatever Jenny McCarthy thinks it gives you). Straightening, she answers a cheerful, "That really depends on how you define here, but I'm going to go with... no. Two months-ish? Abby's my roommate." No one asked, Hailey, but thanks for sharing.

She continues being irritatingly cheerful to tell Harvey, "Maybe! I know a sure way to find out." About the band-aids still in her pocket. "Arm please, upstanding whatever-you-are."

Upstanding editor. "Not right now you aren't," Isabella tells Harvey gamely with a hint of a grin, nodding to his notebook. "Walking the beat like Woodward and Bernstein, but with more X-Files if you're really serious about the lizard people angle." A hand lifts to pat on her tangled hair at the compliment, but there's no self-consciousness there. She looks terrible, but that isn't stopping her from being appreciative of the fact that someone with those dimples is being nice. "You know, he might not be so bad, if he can be sweet." This as an aside to Hailey.

When the doctor shrugs and outs her injuries, the sheepish look returns again. "Yeah, thankfully I'm a consultant - or consulting, at the moment, otherwise it's going to be really hard to explain to someone how I managed to fall down a hill of knives and broken bottles. Alexander said you were good. At what you do."

She falls quiet then, observing the two once it's Harvey's turn to get the needle.

"I'm sweeter than syrup," Harvey declares to Isabella and promptly grimaces. "But not the syrup you put on pancakes or waffles. Maybe the kinda syrup that Starbucks puts in your coffee? We'll go with that." He cocks his head back to Hailey, looking from her eyes down to her pocket, and there's just a blip in time where it looks like he might help himself to figuring out whether or not she's got Rainbow Dash up in there. He thinks wisely of it though, and instead holds his arm out to her. "Treat me good, Doc," he insists, flashing Hailey dimples. Notably, he looks anywhere but the needles. Hailey's eyes will suffice.

Hailey actually, legitimately gasps when the word 'syrup' gets dropped, though her eyes unwiden because it's just Starbucks syrup, whew. "How did you land on 'syrup' and not 'pie' or 'sugar' or pretty much," alcohol-wipey time, "any other sweet thing ever..." She trails off, shaking her head and making it look like she's about to stab this mofo right in the bicep with the syringe, balling her fist around it and cocking her arm back and everything. But relax, everyone, she's a professional , so this is probably mostly painless for Harvey. He gets his injection while she's asking, "Alexander? Oh, Clayton. I remember him. He was - " Crap. She has nothing nice queued up. " - an odd duck. That's a compliment, right? I heard it is. He's your friend?" She gives Isabella a doubtful glance, like maybe they're talking about different people?

Here's a cotton ball for Harvey and what is apparently a Cutie Mark band-aid for Harvey. No [whichever one he wanted], sorry, but omg these ones are adorable, she's very happy to slap that band-aid on for him.

Abby returns. She looks just a little damp and a little refreshed, like she at the very least splashed some water on her face and redid her hair, not that it's done that much to help her not lock sick. But she does seem a little more peppy as she strolls over, stopping to watch the stabbings in progress. She doesn't sneeze on anyone, just pauses close enough to keep an eye on Hailey's technique. "Oh, aren't those cute?" She says, probably refering to the band-aids rather than the needles.

"Sure, we can go with that," Isabella tells Harvey with a wry grin. "Or one of those syrups that bartenders put on those fancy cocktails." Not that she drinks them often, she's been a scotch girl for years. But the way the two of them banter only tilts the corners of her mouth up higher. She takes this time to inspect the sticker she's been given.

"He is," she says. "He mentioned you when he talked to me about his most recent hospital stay. That you weren't from around here. I didn't know Abby was your roommate, she was my afternoon nurse the last time I was here. Small towns and all, people who know the same people just keep running into each other, I guess."

And then a text message drops into her smartphone, which she picks up, unlocking the screen to take a look at it with a furrowed brow. "I'm sorry, I gotta answer this," she says, rising from her chair. "Thanks for the shot, Doctor Stevenson. Nice meeting you, Harvey." She waves to them both, before she starts moving down the hall.

"I'm pretty sure it's because of you. Every time I look at you, I see the breakfast that never was and never will be," Harvey exhales a dramatic sigh, and he'd probably make big puppy-dog eyes if it weren't for the way that Hailey grips that needle. Puppy-dog eyes turn to wide, scared eyes, and he shields his sight with the back of his free hand when she comes in for the stab. He yelps before the needle even hits him, likely proving that he was faking it this whole time. He doesn't look again until the band-aid is slapped on, and then there's just a pout. "Rainbow Dash is better," he remarks with a shake of his head. There might be more to say, but Isabella's leaving and Abby's coming. The former gets a wave and a, "Nice to meet you!" while the latter gets a raise of his brows. "You should probably go home."

"I know!" That they're cute. "I almost grabbed the Paw Patrol ones, but then I thought..." Hailey trails off, gesturing to the ponies on Harvey's arm now - look how pretty! Then she straightens up, giving said arm a little squeeze while he laments about the lack of Rainbow Dash. "Next time. I promise. 'Kay?" With the big, adorable eyes at him (dimples are for losers). Anyway, "Oh bye!" gets called after Isabella and, "He's right," agrees with Harvey of going home. "You don't look good." Er. "I mean, you've looked better." Whatever, she throws away all the disposable things that come with getting flu shots and stops trying to nicely tell Abby she looks like shit.

Abby waves after Isabella, then pauses, glancing curiously between Hailey and Harvey with the tiniest little curious crease on her brow. Then, she glances at the watch on her wrist and shakes her head, flapping a hand to wave it off. "Oh, I just have a couple of things to do before my shift's over. Nothing that involves sneezing on patients, though," the nurse promises, hand on her heart and everything. She sniffles a little again, undoubtedly from the fat rails of Bolivian marching powder she did in the restroom. "I already called in sick for the rest of the week, so... nothing but laziness for me! Maybe chicken. Probably no chicken, I might just freeze it," she says the last bit with an apologetic look in Hailey's direction. "Okay, I should go... do that. Things."

If Harvey's noticing the curious glances that Abby's throwing, he doesn't mention it. Instead? He's just all smiles and internal regrets of not having a neato Paw Patrol band-aid. He'll just have to suffer with his Cutie pony, ugh. "I'll send over some chicken noodle soup. Apparently we're neighbors, so I can just walk it over," he offers to Abby. "Not like, homemade? But I'll stop by the store and get the microwaveable stuff. Just don't like, microwave it with an egg." Beat. "Or an apple." Don't ask, Abby. He lingers a look at Hailey before he gets up out of his chair without a word, taking his notebook with him and tapping it to his forehead in mock salute to the ladies. "I should go and get this to print. When I win the Pulitzer for revealing the lizard-pod-zombie-people conspiracy within Gray Harbor, I'll be sure to mention you both," he promises.

Then, to Abby, he says sincerely: "Get better, yeah?" And then, entirely unselfishly, he also offers: "I'll even do you a favor and invite Hailey over so she doesn't make noise and wake you up. Sleep is important! I'll see you two later." And then he's off. Which is a good thing, because that security guard that said 'he'll be back' is totally on his way back.

Hailey also doesn't notice the brow-crease, alas, but yeah; zombie Abby's vibe receiver still functions just fine, there is one. Right now, from over by the trash can, she calls after Harvey, "I don't want to be in the paper because of zombie pods, please!" Then sighs and drops into the chair she was trying to sit in when everything happened with the Coke machine and the flu shots. "I'll bring home bunches of boxes of tissues for you," she promises to Abby, quietly so the security guard doesn't hear her talking about stealing from the hospital. "And some Jell-O cups!" But later; right now, she's back to watching whatever is on the TV. Maybe it will be My Little Ponies!!!

"Can't have apples in the house. Doctor." Abby patiently explains, pointing a finger at Hailey as she gives Harvey a look. This is basic stuff here. Then, a little less jokingly, she smiles, adjusting the mask. "Thank you. Oh, that's fine, she's not that noisy." And on that note, and with a wave for Hailey, Abby heads off to make more pod people.