Hospital Shenanigans

Having pulled up one of the chairs from the waiting area, Ella makes herself useful by sitting cross-legged on the seat and generally staying out of the way of the medical professionals surrounding her. True to her word, every person that enters Patrick's room gets the hairy eyeball, though once they are dismissed as either harmless or hospital personnel, she goes back to paging through her tabloid. She hazards a few glances at her cohort who seems to commonly be propped up against the door itself, though for once she tries to be quiet.

Adrien does, indeed, sit in front of Patrick's door, right upon the sterile floor of the hospital, his back propped up against the barrier, with one leg stretched out, and the other bent with the knee upward. He was talkative, at least, his usual amount of so, but after the first hour he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and just started staring at it with a certain amount of intensity.

A smile curls Ella's lips as she catches that hungry look from the corner of her eyes, murmuring in a lowered voice without looking up from her tabloid, "I can hold down the fort if you want to slip out and have a fix. I don't mind. It's been completely quiet, all told."

"..No. Fuck it. No God-Damned cigarette is going to get the best of me..", Adrien admits, glancing at Ella for nothing more than a minute before going back to staring down the cigarette once more. It's a long battle, with neither side blinking or willing to budge, and the thin man with the unkempt hair murmuring to himself, "..I will not smoke. I will not smoke. I will not smoke..", over and over again. After just four minutes though, these stacked upon the past two hours, he glances up and down the sterile halls of the hospital, with a bit of a wild look in his dark eyes. Without warning, he eats the cigarette. Literally chewing it up, and his eyes roll back into his head.

This peaks Ella's interests rather abruptly, her nose pulling out of the magazine as she turns to stare at Adrien with obvious surprise writ across her face. "Oh no, you're not—" she begins as she sees the cancer stick disappear into his mouth. She lets out a burst of laughter, her head tipping backwards and the tabloid falling from her lap to the floor. "Ohmygod, that's the best expression EVER!" she exclaims before falling back into a fit of laughter.

In a simmering sort of silence, Adrien Cross, the man who has danced with more than a few supernatural enemies of mankind, sits there and chews upon his cigarette, swallowing it whole, from the deliciously dry tobacco to the cigarette butt. Calmly while doing it, he raises a hand and a middle finger, pointing them at Ella in that universal gesture of displeasure at her sheer delight in his misery. Luckily, he doesn't speak.

Ella unfolds one leg to dangle to the ground, though she keeps the other tucked away beneath her as she leans to the side and closer to where her surly companion sits. She holds up one hand against her face as if she were trying to disguise what she was saying from anyone but Adrien, her voice coming out in a rather amused stage whisper, "You know, they make patches and gum and lozenges for that sort of thing so that.. you know.. people don't have to devour their cigarettes." She lets the hand fall back to her lap as she adds, "But hey whatever floats your boat, right?" while giving him a wink.

"..I don't chew gum. And patches are for women..", Adrien mutters, swallowing down the last of his cigarette. Almost out of some weird spite, he opens up into a very wide grin. If that didn't look maniacle enough on him, then the small pieces of plastered tobacco would help along with the concept of a man who has lost his mind. From the pocket of his shirt he pulls out a toothpick, and inserts it between his lips where it's held fast.

With a shake of her head, Ella bends over at the waist while still sitting in her chair to grab up the magazine she dropped before someone could slip on it. "How would anyone know you were even wearing a patch unless you decided to walk around naked through the city? And why are they just for women? They're not like Girl Scout patches or anything. Then there's always the lozenges…" she pauses as she sits up again, a wicked grin crossing her face. "And you can't say you'd be against lozenges. I see old guys buying them all the time at the drugstore."

Adrien Cross glances up, shooting a look at the woman with the wicked wit and the sharp tongue. He appears to be on the edge of speaking his mind, which could be nothing else but hateful at the moment, up until the last comment flutters forth from between her Oh-So-Innocent lips. Glancing up and down the hall to make sure that no nurses are coming to do their rounds, he pulls his Desert Eagle from his concealed shoulder holster. Ejecting the clip, and then the bullet from the chamber, he places the barrel into his mouth and begins to fire blank shots, over and over. Each makes snaps with the sound of dry-fire. The whole time his dark sights stare up at the much younger woman. Doesn't this seem familiar?

Ella is the first to break the intense staredown from across the barrel of the gun, her smile faltering by some measure even though she can't quite banish it completely. Her gaze falls instead to her messenger bag as she shoves the magazine into it, looping the strap over her shoulder when she's done. "Yeah, I know. I get it. I wasn't what you expected," she whispers in a surprisingly even tone as she stands up, her fingertips lightly touching the top of the gun. "Think maybe I should go. You're good at keeping an eye out."

Adrien snaps off two more dry-fires from his gun, before pulling the end of the barrel from his mouth and going, "..Pfffft.", followed by a rather derisive snort. If there was any sort of insult to his next words, it would be that they were coming from a man who just shoved a gun in his mouth, "..Don't be a fucking drama queen, lady. Sit down..". That said, he replaces the bullet back into the clip and then pushes the clip back into the handle of the Desert Eagle, before flicking on the safety and slipping it back into his concealed holster.

Ella peers down at Adrien for a moment before making any sort of move, either to leave or listen to his suggestion. "It's always hard to tell if you want my company or not," she admits at length. "I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with or be around for any extended period of time." She appears to come to a decision though, deciding it'd be better to hang out here for the rest of the evening. She sits herself back down in the chair, though she keeps her bag situated on her lap. "Do you really think one of those deadsies are going to come for him?"

"..I don't know. And I'm about tired of caring. If they turn him, then I'll just shoot his ass too..", Adrien admits, pushing to his feet and brushing himself off, "..I'm about fucking tired of sitting in this Hospital. It's too cold. It's too quiet. It's too white. And I can't smoke. Let's get the fuck out of here..". And with that, the thin man with the unkempt hair proceeds to just walk off.

Having driven her poor little Escort to the hospital, it's only right that she drives it back out though with a passenger in tow. She takes the most direct route she can back to her place, since it's the closest, and once inside the building she walks with a confidant gait towards her loft. As she unlocks the door and opens it, many points of multi-colored flickering lights glow in different places of the room. Her smile broadens as she strolls inside, holding the door open for Adrien. "I really need something to eat and probably something else to wear."

"..You do that, then. I'll find something to amuse myself with..", Adrien admits, allowing himself entrance into the apartment just behind Ella. First thing first, he loosens his black tie a bit and makes his way right over to the fridge, which he opens, sniffing at it a few times and wrinkling up his nose before starting a hunt for the ever-elusive alcohol.

Dropping her messenger bag gently on the papasan chair, Ella keeps right on walking by. She spares a glance for Adrien as she starts up the spiral stairs, "The pizza's the only thing in there I'd trust and there might be a Corona or two hidden away in the vegetable bin. Matter fact," she adds as she pokes her head over the railing, "There might be some Absolut left from New Year's." She continues on her trek upstairs to her bedroom, already peeling off her black ballet flats.

"..Sure. Thanks..", Adrien calls up, with his head still stuck in the fridge. He lifts the top of the pizza box, but only for a second before closing it in horror again. He pulls open the crisper drawer, but doesn't have to dig through vegetables, thankfully, to get two Coronas out. Shutting the door with his foot, he makes short work of the bottlecaps, using the counter as a fortunate pry-spot.

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