(Untitled)

[fuckyousoleil]

[Outside of the hospital today, the last medical kit - "X" - sits with a print out attached to the lid (accompanied by some simple text: "disney fucking endings never help ever, this page is bullshit"). The kit itself isn't quite as stocked as the other ones, but there's still a decent amount of supplies being offered up in it. Another copy of the

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[doctorquincy]

[has been periodically checking out the lobby in between doing other work and he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the box being brought in]

Oh, good.

[doctorquincy]

That explains the kits.

What group?

[adroitism]

Doesn't it?

The whole group with the carnival. Which isn't really a carnival. It's more like . . . military.

[doctorquincy]

That's what I was referring to.

[adroitism]

It's military. We're a ragtag group of sorts . . .

[doctorquincy]

How did you come together?

[adroitism]

[that gets some vague hand motions.]

How they came together, I have no fucking clue. I got picked up later. Long as hell story.

[doctorquincy]

I'm sure.

[bitchgineer]

Are you really that strapped for supplies?

[doctorquincy]

You can never have too many.

[bitchgineer]

How is your equipment?

[doctorquincy]

Decent. Why?

[bitchgineer]

Let me do a bit of a fix-up. You'll need them to be excellent.

[doctorquincy]

. . . And you are?

[bitchgineer]

The engineer. Meric Winthrop Hambleton-Smythe the XXIII.

[doctorquincy]

Ishida Ryuuken. I've got most of what I think we'll need moved underground already, so you'd have to go there . . .