Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Oh," the nurse's eyes fell, her gaze landing on the unconscious form of Mr. Grayson, lightly built form drowned by a hospital gown, perfectly still. "Poor, poor thing. Such... an unfortunate chain of events."
With a sigh, she continued to wheel the bed down the long, sterile-white hallway: it smelled of chemicals and antiseptic wipes, but she was used to it, really. An Audinoe shuffled along behind her, a tray clasped gently between two fuzzy-looking paws.
Her nametag shone as it passed under each light: A. Ishida. The last name, of course, was fake - you didn't need to be exceedingly smart to work it out, either, she'd been hopping from hospital to hospital all around the globe.
People are far too trusting, nowadays.
Room B-16. She backed into the door, kicking it open with a sharp blow from the heel of her shoe, and wheeled the bed inwards.
And now, we played the waiting game.
She'd requested to be assigned to this patient, Mr. Grayson, after spotting the rather unlucky murder of his every relative on the news the evening before - the massacre had taken place rather near to her post at the hospital, so she figured he'd be brought here.
After all! The Nurse herself had been responsible for many a murder, you wouldn't believe how easy it was, being in a workplace such as this - simply slip something a little lethal into some sorry, sad-shack of a human's blood bag and, well: there you had it. If you picked out the individual carefully, nobody'd care enough to perform any sort of autopsy.
Originally, that'd been her plan with the pitiful Mr. Grayson here - she'd been craving that high of such power for a while, now, but something had formed what you could've called, ah... a restraint.
This man, by Arceus, was a useful.
Some files'd been pieced together on him - after reading them, it would have been difficult to put such a thing to waste, he seemed - useful-! A prodigy, even, he'd solved a cold case in his spare time that everyone had considered long, long gone; while Arya hated the authorities, this man was... well, he wasn't an officer, was he? A freelance detective, perhaps, a diligent worker, who was not employed under the name of the police, and if she was to have any sort of say in it then she'd keep it that way.
Pulling up a stool beside the bed, she watched as he begun to stir.
"Ah!" She smiled, her voice carrying a sing-song lilt. "You're up, I see."
Groggily, Jack Grayson turned his head in the Nurse's direction. He grunted, a noncommittal noise, and blinked.
"You've been out for... let's see, ah... thirteen hours, almost! I don't blame you, really, not after the events of last night."
The man's stare grew slightly glassy, and he said nothing.
"I'm Nurse Ishida - but please feel free to address me as Arya! Myself and a few others shall be taking good care of you for the next two weeks."
The fan hummed in the background. Mr. Grayson gave a slow, sleepy nod.
"You must be shattered, Sir," Arya gave a sickly-sweet smile. "Sleep, I think it'll do you a world of good, yes? I'll wake you up in time for dinner.
His stare seemed to linger, bewildered, for a few moments - without a sound, his eyes slid shut, and his breathing slowed. After Arya was certain he was out cold, she laughed softly to herself.
Unscrewing the cap on the medicine port of Grayson's drip, she silently removed a small, glass syringe from her back pocket and gave the plunger a quick press.
(Sedatives, nothing else.)
She had some work to do.
