Log:Through the Looking Glass
"Conrad?" Comes the small, uncertain voice from the Penitent. The sudden uncertaintity, that hint at a lack of confidence that was deep within Madison, along with the Penitent's own fears about who she is, especially when it comes to Madison. But her gaze is on him, rather than her. She's almost forgotten where she is, why they're even here with the wounded Fool. "W-wh-what ... I didn't think this would ..." She glancing about, vaguely nodding at what Martyr has to say, starting to edge back towards the door and back into the Facility's own parlour. Glancing at the Addict, she shakes her head. "You don't understand," she says in a shakey voice, "This isn't ... good." She retreats further.
Heather returns with a man and a woman, one in white, the other in green. The gurney is certainly ready, lowered so they might ease him onto it as needed. The somewhat familiar woman says, "I don't even want to know how the fuck this happened, or why this guy is-" She glances down. "-naked under this blanket." She already looks like she needs a cigarette, and probably a drink. The short woman snaps her fingers abruptly to the other pair, who already start working on wheeling the Fool off toward a place where they can actually do something about his injuries. The Martyr's worst fears are probably about to be realized as she raises a glance up to him, a single brow arching, but she doesn't actually ask anything. "Whatever this party was about?" Her head just shakes as she leads anyone along toward the treatment room. "We are barely even open yet," she says to the Visionary, her expression flat. "And you're already bringing me trouble, kid?"
Just as all of Madison's insecurities returns to the Penitent, the Capitalist is holding onto the bitterness that Conrad had for the way his father treated him. Unpleasant memories feel sharper here than they ever did in the Facility. In this bit of shock, he even forgets the reason told to him in the Facility on why the Wellson patriarch had shunned him for all of his life.
Still, he had Conrad Wellson's drive and determination, at the very least. Eyes on Heather, someone who Conrad hadn't met yet, but who still looked familiar to him, he's about to say something, but the woman is speaking to one of the adults in the room. Not that he, himself, wasn't an adult at this time. "He's going to bleed out if we have to stand here and answer questions." He's quick to point out, wanting to turn the responsibility of the Fool over to the medical team. Still, his eyes look to the far more familiar face of his sister, noting her hesitation, despite the power of her attire.
"I know nothing good happens in Texas," Briar says. Then, when Martyr puts it in terms of he and Briar being the grownups here, their expression falls. "Here," they say gently as they offer the truffles and thermos of coffee to Dare, because now? Now is the time of nervous-eating black licorice. "Should we go back," they ask Penny, then Teen Josh. "They don't really need us here, do they?"
The Martyr straightens, and gives her his best responsible adult look despite his out fit. Luckily he's baby faced so he might pass for aged student, given his outfit. Who knew he needed lawyer clothes in the facility? "I'm a good Samariton. Someone needed to help them out. You're medics. Help them out." He puts a little of his Finn-ish lawyerly steel behind it. He is holding the thermos and candy and chip bags, "He's clearly the victim here and they did their best given the situation." He eyes the obviously drunk member of the party, then continues to the medical staff, "Why don't you do your best and I'll look after these traumatized students."
"Sorry, sorry," Penitent says quickly, even though Heather's words about trouble aren't even directed at her. She shakes her head, takes a deep breath and exhales it. Madison isn't quite this bad, there's a bit that's more the Penitent's own fears likely amplifying the whole thing. "He'll be fine now, he'll be fine," she assures, and then she's backing away, until she turns to move back away and through the door, back out to where she's just herself.
This is the woman that, some day, will be roosted in the rafters of a stage on an island in the middle of nowhere, wearing a cowboy hat, drunk off of her ass, joint dangling from her lips, blaring AC/DC's 'Thunderstruck' whilst blazing a UV-gel spotlight out over an army of the undead, thoroughly convinced she's going to die in the process. She has no way of knowing that yet, of course, but the look that Heather aims at the Capitalist says, 'I've got this,' more clearly than any words likely could, and offer a glimpse of the crazy woman she'll some day become.
While the two others help get the Fool onto the gurney and into the treatment room, she simply grabs the Visionary -- already the taller of the two by a notable margin -- by the back of her shirt like she might grab a cat by the scruff, dragging the gawky teenager along into the room. "Anybody who doesn't want to have to sign paperwork or explain something if the cops show up? Should probably leave," she says with a heaving sigh. It's followed by a distinctly big-sister-like hiss of, "What the fuck are you doing, kid? You're supposed to be getting ready for college, what the shit is this hot mess?"
Clearing her throat, she looks over to Finn, and, perhaps surprisingly, she takes the story at face value. "Gotcha. Car accident. Didn't see the other car. Somebody probably stole the bike. Nobody got plates." Either she's gullible, knows it's bullshit she doesn't have time to pierce, or more likely, she knows 'Dahlia's' eclectic sort of friends.
The Capitalist catches sight of his sister nervously backing out and away from this whole ordeal. Not that he blames her. This was terribly bizarre. So much that he starts drifting off himself just to catch a mirror or any reflective surface in which to look at himself. Now that's a face he hadn't seen in years on any of his incarnations. Curiously, a hand lifts to feel at that smooth cheek and chin. That's when he has to ask, backing away from the mirror now to look at the teenage Visionary, "Where exactly did you bring us...?" If she'd explained earlier, he hadn't heard. Both the Addict and Martyr's appearances are noted, though they look closer to their likeness in the Facility. Age-wise anyway.
While he doesn't get that same strong feeling of dread that Madison did, though knowing what happens in the future, somewhat, is both disturbing and should be emotionally scarring, he quietly begins to make his way towards the exit, as if wanting to follow his sister. "Are you going to stay with him until they get him patched up?" He's asking this to Visionary, though the same could be said to both Addict and Martyr.
"I'll stay," says the Visionary, still lingering around the door to the treatment room before dashing over toward the others. She can't risk being overheard by the folks presumably native to this time. "Look, I had no idea where else to go that wouldn't be nothing but paperwork. Heather, my assistant from... back then, she ran a free clinic in Houston, when we had to relocate there," she finally -- finally! -- explains. "She dealt with a lot of shit like this, community funded. I helped her out here as an intern. Place actually just opened like, a week ago. And thankfully, tonight? I was supposed to be taking SAT prep." Oh, the high school, it burns. "She's going to kick my ass, but 'I couldn't come in 'cause I had a party', I know she'll... ok, maybe she'll believe it."
When talking to the cops is mentioned, Briar snaps off a piece of licorice from the vine in their hand and say, "I'm out." They chew, swallow, then kiss Dare on the cheek. "I'll be in my room overdosing on this." They gesture with the licorice packet. They take another bite, then relieve Dare of the coffee. He can keep the truffles; there are people here who may need them more than Briar does. "Tell Oz I said hey when he stops bleeding." They turn to walk toward the exit leading back to the parlor.
The Martyr meets Heather's eyes with respect, gives her a little bow suitable for his particular brand of gothic attire, "Thank you, we appreciate it." He eyes the Visionary, nd gives her a little bow too. In her place he would, but it has to be asked. He turns to the Addict and the Capitalist, "Gone sounds good to me." He only vaguely knows what happens here. Something abou a music festival being attacked. He just really doesn't want to spend time talking to police he coulfd be spending literally anywhere else. h hands the Visionary the truffles and scarpers with the others.
The Capitalist, himself, isn't all that concerned about the cops coming in for questioning. Or not as concerned as she probably should have been. If anything, his fascination with this place is the fact that this was a world that he knew, but different. There's a slow nod given to the Visionary as he turns to depart with the others. "I can't believe that this just happened." There's this urge to wander rather than leave through the Facility door, but for now, he's able to quench that desire to confront his father.