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Room 507, Sunday Evening
Oct. 21st, 2007 07:47 pmRoom 507 looked remarkably like it had two and a half days before, just after Ronan had left for the weekend: nothing had changed. Papers were slightly out of place, having been shifted by the breeze stirred up by air rushing in to fill a no-longer-occupied space. And then, all at once, with no fanfare or sound, not even the normal rushing of air, that space was occupied once more.
"Ugh," Ronan moaned, sagging slightly; he leaned against his bed before himself up onto it. He dropped his bag on the floor, then flopped backwards, exhausted. "That was some weekend," he muttered, dry humour in his voice. "... It's Sunday. I have clinic. At least, I think it's Sunday. Is it Sunday? It is. Thank the Powers for time-keeping manuals."
After a moment, he got up, rubbing his face, trying to wake up, energise. He moved to his dresser, pulled a power bar from the bottom drawer. Munching on it, he moved to his computer, booting it up, checking his email. He pulled out his phone; smiling softly, he plugged it into his charger, brushing some dust off of it. It was a little beat-up, like it had been through some hard times.
But then, Ronan looked that way now, himself.
His phone beeped after it came on, indicating waiting voicemail; he dialed in, the automated voice telling him, "You have one new message. First message."
Carmela's message made him smile; after deleting it and hanging up, he called back. He contemplated making some other calls, but figured that he could look forward to a quiet clinic shift, and then track people down tomorrow. Tell everyone tomorrow.
"No time for a shower," he murmured, as he checked the clock; a glance in his mirror showed, however, that he didn't look too bad. Nothing a change of clothes wouldn't fix, at least. Although the new scar dividing his left eyebrow was... well, it wasn't too large, he decided, although finally seeing it in a mirror made it real in a way it hadn't been before. But he ignored it, at least for now, changing his clothes and grabbing one of his smaller bags on his way out the door on his way to the clinic.
It was strange, almost, how the room seemed alive again, even after he'd left for work; it was no longer quite so empty.
[OOC: Establishy only.]
"Ugh," Ronan moaned, sagging slightly; he leaned against his bed before himself up onto it. He dropped his bag on the floor, then flopped backwards, exhausted. "That was some weekend," he muttered, dry humour in his voice. "... It's Sunday. I have clinic. At least, I think it's Sunday. Is it Sunday? It is. Thank the Powers for time-keeping manuals."
After a moment, he got up, rubbing his face, trying to wake up, energise. He moved to his dresser, pulled a power bar from the bottom drawer. Munching on it, he moved to his computer, booting it up, checking his email. He pulled out his phone; smiling softly, he plugged it into his charger, brushing some dust off of it. It was a little beat-up, like it had been through some hard times.
But then, Ronan looked that way now, himself.
His phone beeped after it came on, indicating waiting voicemail; he dialed in, the automated voice telling him, "You have one new message. First message."
Carmela's message made him smile; after deleting it and hanging up, he called back. He contemplated making some other calls, but figured that he could look forward to a quiet clinic shift, and then track people down tomorrow. Tell everyone tomorrow.
"No time for a shower," he murmured, as he checked the clock; a glance in his mirror showed, however, that he didn't look too bad. Nothing a change of clothes wouldn't fix, at least. Although the new scar dividing his left eyebrow was... well, it wasn't too large, he decided, although finally seeing it in a mirror made it real in a way it hadn't been before. But he ignored it, at least for now, changing his clothes and grabbing one of his smaller bags on his way out the door on his way to the clinic.
It was strange, almost, how the room seemed alive again, even after he'd left for work; it was no longer quite so empty.
[OOC: Establishy only.]