SUP NIQQA [prp]

[Evelynn]

It's turning out to be a long day already, and Doctor Evelynn Black is already wishing that she could go home early-- and she's only four hours in. It's the night shift, what is quite possibly the worst shift in the emergency room, and she finds herself becoming steadily more and more busy with the progressing hours. After nearly getting spit on by a rather moody geriatric, yelled at by a family for discharging their elderly gomer, and better yet-- she has to avoid the clashing between security guards and a violent patient after overdosing on benadryl. And of course, someone else has to start something. There's always something. Nothing in the hospital ever seems to calm down for more than three minutes at a time.

And it's not even the full moon. Hah.

She makes her way into the doctors lounge for coffee, and instead finds two of the men standing a foot away from each other, arguing. One of them being her own attending that had seen her through her residency, and the other an unidentified surgeon that she had never met. She peers up at his breast pocket, where EIZEFETTI is stamped in large letters across his badge. The attending calls the surgeon a scalpel jockey, asks him if he has anyone to go slice up-- a clear indication to go away. The surgeon fires back but Lynn isn't paying attention anymore, and instead is staring straight ahead with tired eyes and a coffee mug in hand, walking between the two of them without so much as turning to face them. "Put the rulers away, boys." It's too late for such petty things.

She's only able to enjoy her coffee for the next three minutes until her pager goes off. With a huff she unclips it from her waist, looks at it and immediately is filled with dread. "Back to the ER." is her answer to the quizzical expression given to her by another doctor in the room. It's a minor call, and her first instinct is another ATS to waste her time. Setting her coffee down on the way out she strolls smoothly into the ER, past the small groups of doctors and the hoards of nurses and into one of the ER rooms,

And tries her best to ignore the smell of werewolf that soon overwhelms her senses.

"'Sup niqqa."

[Billy]

She's out for a long time she thinks.

Drifting somewhere between consciousness, floating in a endless void. It's just after a shift and she's - god knows where - and she doesnt have enough control yet to do anything but fall out at the side of the highway which in retrospection was the worse idea ever.

How the fuck is she suppose to pay the hospital bills.

Billy fiddles with her IV frowning something fierce as she waits for a doctor to come in. Even after trying to assure the nurses and men in the ambulance she was alive - look, look at me touching my face! Im not a zombie! - they'd still brought her in kicking and screaming. How was she going to explain what she was to them?

'btw im a werewolf' she could see how that went just now. A) Insane asylum B) GOVERNMENT. Nerves jitter and send jolts through her body, her animal crooks it's head up from a short hibernation and bears it's teeth wild and cornered. Mirroring how she feels in this white room with these white sheets.

Billy's mama has always had a saying, it ran through their line, it was tradition, and it was bred in her: FUCK DA POLICE.

Up the ass

NO LUBE.

(I'm taking the motherfucking window and flying this chickens coop!)

There's a different noise near the door and Billy tilts her head fractionally in expectation. She thinks if it's a man maybe she can try charming him right out of his god damn sweatervest to let her go. But it's probably karma slapping her in the face when a small woman strides in confidently,

"'Sup niqqa."

She groans visibly. Rolling back into her bed tense and bitter. But as the woman steps closer there is something ringing like a church bell in her head. Something that has her wolf perched to attention like a dog waiting for a bone. Later on in life she'd recognize the tall tale sign of her kind, but youthful and naive she mostly peg's this curiosity as dangerous.

Billy throws up a south side sign with her fingers, weakly perking her lips and responding. "What's crackin docta'. Come on in an' holla at me.'' Just because this isnt a man, and her wolf wants to kill this woman, doesnt mean she's gotta have a bad sense of humor though.