OPEN SIGNUPS - Perchance to Dream
When the announcement came on, Uma had been in the one-person bathroom in the clinic, one of the few perks of working as a medic in the Warehouse. There wasn't the need to take a piss with another fifteen people to your right and left, even if the door was made of cardboard and the walls out of tissue paper. Uma held the sides of the sink before her with blanched knuckles, her eyes locked on the drain below. She glanced up into the mirror and hated what she saw.
Her eyes - bloodshot. it was a bad, bad sign, to have red eyes like this. Because the only people who got them needed the sleep. She had coached other Narcs to wear sunglasses if possible when the dreaded red filamentous veins began to show, but within the clinic, hiding her eyes would be suspicious. Instead, she just had to make something up, for why her eyes were so irritated.
And god, she was exhausted. After her stint at the Colosseum, she had sat down at her apartment for the five hours of life she was afforded before her shift at the Warehouse, and for whatever reason, she just couldn't get comfortable. Something's wrong. Adderall must be screwing with me, hard. She had changed meds, especially after what happened at the Colosseum with Finn, worried that perhaps her medicated mix might be off. Now, however, she felt as if a truck had run over her, then backed up again when it realized it hadn't done the job.
She was awake, but exhausted. Not a good mix.
The announcement was like a bucket of ice water over the head. They've never done this... they've never called everybody off their shift. What the hell is going on?... Uma, correlation ain't causation, it probably has nothing to do with you. But the thought still punched her in the back of the head. She and Finn had seen something they weren't supposed to see. Her younger Narcs were seeing things they weren't supposed to see. Something was happening - and she didn't believe in coincidences.
The minute she knocked on the door, a DP opened it, and she was careful to keep her expression neutral. Rarely was Uma rattled - but she had about fourteen months' worth of Narc paraphernalia in her bag, and it would be just her luck that the black-faced goons would start asking questions now. She took an available seat.
To her surprise, Benoit actually made an appearance, and her stomach continued to wriggle like a fish on a deck. They were fixing the Patch... Well, fat lot of good that would do. Her Narcs had gone to fix their patches multiple times before turning to her, and nothing ever seemed to do the trick for them. Sometimes amphetamines and a little coke were all that would make a dent in the deprivation and make life livable for a little while. She swallowed as he mentioned talking to the authorities about others with problems on their Patch, and another flutter of unease stole through her.
Her phone buzzed, in chorus with the others in the room. She glanced around at the occupants of the room as she checked her own. Don't have to tell me twice, buddy... whoever you are.
She lingered in the room rather than get up to leave, hoping that would help dispel any suspicion that she was desperate to leave.