strangetrip | Check-in May 15

It was the 15th of the month and given the possibility of arrivals, Caroline decided that something should be done to make new people a little more comfortable.

So she was sitting in the lobby, wearing a bright yellow sundress and surrounded by a riot of materials. Her feet were bare, as her sandals were lying off to the side, and her toenails were blue. She was creating Inn survival kits. There was a little pamphlet of explanations: people call the guy at the desk Daryl; yes,everything is free; no, you can't leave; just be firm about towels. A basket of sundries - snacks from the gift shop, sunscreen, guidebook, toothbrush etc. There was a towel, because obviously.

She considered adding a bottle of alcohol, but not everyone drank - she'd noticed at least a few of the current residents who didn't - and if they did drink TOO much, she didn't want to encourage it.

Maybe chocolate?

Caroline jotted down that as a note and resumed chewing on the end of her pen. The lobby door opened shortly thereafter and she looked up with a smile.

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Butters mostly avoided the lobby when there were new people, but sometimes it just wasn't possible, so--was that blood on the doorframe? Had somebody been dripping?

"Dammit, Jim, I'm a medical examiner," he muttered to himself, eyes tracking up to... some guy with a spear, limping off down the hall with probably a key, the hotel being what it was. "I swear, one of these days I'm going to catch my death of guilt."

The blonde on the sofa was also watching the guy make his way toward his (probably) hideously-decorated new room, so Butters angled her way. "Is, um, is spear-guy okay?" he asked.

Caroline frowned at the man - Waldo Butters, she was pretty sure, even though her entry on him was basically blank because lived like a creepy hermit - and then shook her head. "He says it's mostly giant blood. But I'm betting he's pretty injured. He wouldn't take any help. Not that I have any medical people to point him to except for Joanna and he bounced after two seconds with her."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

Not that I have any medical people caused a visible guilty twitch. "I, ah, I'm not a practicing doctor or anything, but if you really don't have anybody I do, well, have an MD. And a bag in my room with some stuff. Not a lot of stuff, but, like, needle and thread and bandages. That I have used. To treat alive people. Successfully. On occasion." He hunched his shoulders. "I'm a medical examiner with accident-prone friends."

Caroline blinked.

She tilted her head to the side.

She blinked again and tilted her head back.

"You. Have. An. MD." Each word came out very precisely, like she had to test every one to be sure it was right. "And you haven't mentioned this before now?"

"I'm a medical examiner. My usual patients are dead. And I really didn't think I'd be here this long." Butters sighed. "But I am, and if spear guy doesn't mind getting stitched up by someone who doesn't usually need a lot of anesthetic, I'm qualified."

Caroline did not think this was a reasonable excuse for not sharing his talents before now and it showed on her face. "He's in room 197. He's grumpy, so don't let that scare you off."

She picked up her book and corrected her listing for Butters, Waldo by adding a somewhat aggressive MD.

Edited 2017-05-23 01:12 (UTC)

Butters was going to end up the official terrible limbo hotel doctor, he just knew it.

"He can't be any worse than a Chicago ex-cop with three broken ribs. I'll go get my bag."

"Let me know how it goes!" Caroline called after him in a chipper voice.

Check-in May 15

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