Night 56: F-A Block Hallway
[From here.]
The coast was clear.
A gust of air blew out of him - way too heavy to be a simple sigh of relief. God, were his palms sweaty? When did that happen?
This hallway got the same treatment as the last, a thorough sweep with the flashlight over every angle he could catch. No monsters. No patients, either. Four lonely halls and not a soul in sight. Peter worried his lip. Okay, yeah, he was chickening out just a little bit on the inside, but he was doubting his master plan for a valid reason right now. He could go down and start checking every room, one hall at a time, but what if Senna came and went while he had his nose in someone else's boudoir? Would it be better to wait here? See if she emerged?
The prickle along his spine didn't like that idea either. Thoughts of Harry and what the shapeshifter had done to him hadn't left, no matter how many times he ran through the mantra of Senna, Senna, Senna. Peter gnawed at his bottom lip again, the sting of his teeth helping to ease off the nerves by a titch. He fished in his pocket for the dog tags. Would there be a clue on there? He hadn't examined his own that closely, so perhaps there would be some sort of hint there about 'Sarah Gear' and what room she was in.
Sarah who may or may not be Senna. If they were someone else's tags, then he was screwing himself over by following any lead they gave him. Not that he was finding anything in the first place. The numbers imprinted on the metal plate seemed to have little to do with the numbers on the doors in front of him. God. All right. So...what should he do? Wait for the crowds to come out, or start checking the rooms now?
Peter made a rather lonely figure standing there, gazing out with a lost stare and an unsteady light.
The coast was clear.
A gust of air blew out of him - way too heavy to be a simple sigh of relief. God, were his palms sweaty? When did that happen?
This hallway got the same treatment as the last, a thorough sweep with the flashlight over every angle he could catch. No monsters. No patients, either. Four lonely halls and not a soul in sight. Peter worried his lip. Okay, yeah, he was chickening out just a little bit on the inside, but he was doubting his master plan for a valid reason right now. He could go down and start checking every room, one hall at a time, but what if Senna came and went while he had his nose in someone else's boudoir? Would it be better to wait here? See if she emerged?
The prickle along his spine didn't like that idea either. Thoughts of Harry and what the shapeshifter had done to him hadn't left, no matter how many times he ran through the mantra of Senna, Senna, Senna. Peter gnawed at his bottom lip again, the sting of his teeth helping to ease off the nerves by a titch. He fished in his pocket for the dog tags. Would there be a clue on there? He hadn't examined his own that closely, so perhaps there would be some sort of hint there about 'Sarah Gear' and what room she was in.
Sarah who may or may not be Senna. If they were someone else's tags, then he was screwing himself over by following any lead they gave him. Not that he was finding anything in the first place. The numbers imprinted on the metal plate seemed to have little to do with the numbers on the doors in front of him. God. All right. So...what should he do? Wait for the crowds to come out, or start checking the rooms now?
Peter made a rather lonely figure standing there, gazing out with a lost stare and an unsteady light.