Medical Exam

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:21 Pacific Time on Tue Jan 19 2016.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.62 and rising, and the relative humidity is 97 percent. The dewpoint is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (68% full).

Phoenix Park Plaza(#3023RJehs$)

Swimming * Skating * Climbing * Assault Course * Racquet sports * Children's playground * Restaurant * Hanging out in the park

Phoenix Park is modern oasis in contrast to the near derelict appearance of the rest of this district. Set amongst landscaped, naturalistic parkland are well designed, airy, attractive modern buildings for outdoor pursuits, sports and leisure, covering many of the areas not catered for by the pitches and team sports facilities of Silver Street. The wide paved plaza of the pedestrian entrance leads past the soaring rocket-jet of a fountain that cascades back into a circular pool, and on to the signature Phoenix Building- a structure reminiscent of soaring birds' wings or yacht's sails, all sweeping lines and vistas of glass, clean whites and silvers that reflect the sky. From the plaza, a footpath can be seen winding through grassy walks, flowerbeds and scattered trees, past the Half Pipe Heaven Skate Park and the Cascades Water Park. The path heads onwards towards a wide lake with a white marble tiger statue, a waterfall-fed stream beyond, and a little Japanese-style bridge leading to the Sky View Restaurant. To the left is an oval all-weather running track, bleachers, and a hall for racquet sports backed by an extensive climbing wall. Around the perimeter is a dirt running track, a cross-country assault course with timber obstacles, and a well-equipped children's adventure playground.

The sun has only just set and the rain has definitely set in. Between the wet and the chill, the outdoor areas of Phoenix Park are poorly attended, and that mainly by people hurrying from one indoor location to the next. (Business at the Sky View Restaurant is just starting to pick up, in fact.) Salem's short, slight frame looks even more undersized in the big black wool overcoat he's wearing; it looks like he might have raided his father's closet for it. He's brow-furrowed and frowning and deep in thought as he wanders down the path toward the assault course, not looking like he cares much about the rain.

Low Traffic O'Clock is Zach's preferred hour for his more mobile shenanigans. Not that anything he does breaks any laws (not even gravity), but it is easier to run a course unimpeded when one doesn't have to constantly watch for potential collisions. The explosive nature of his free-running shatters the customary 'hard to notice' aspect of the fellow. He comes flying up over the top of a geodesic, dome-style jungle-gym in a kong vault. He sails with apparent grace past the apex, but the far side holds an unpleasant angle for him.

"Shit..." he mutters aloud, to himself, moments before taking the impact with the ground - first on the heel of his right hand, then on the associated shoulder. He rolls well, obviously no stranger to falling, and comes to his feet in a fluid single motion. The run is checked, and he hops on the balls of his feet a few times to come to a complete stop. Only when he's fully still, does Zach turn back to the jungle-gym and shoot it a withering look. One that says: Judas.

"Nice recovery," Salem says, coming upon the scene just in time to see Zach's miscalculation in action. He's not being sarcastic. He does eyeball Zach with more than a little guardedness, though. "You all right?"

"Fine," Zach says, perhaps a bit sharply - the note of humiliation at being caught in the flub in his tone. His shoulders sag a bit, too. "Not my worst by far." He looks back in Salem's direction. "Jack, right?"

Salem nods. "Jack, right. Nick's friend." He stops a very polite, very reserved distance away, though close enough for conversation. "He told me he'd talked to you."

Ghost is recognizable more by her seemingly unchanging wardrobe than anything else, as tonight she has the hood of her jacket drawn up over her head, and she's hunching down against the chill. Her usual layers don't seem to be quite enough to keep warm tonight, or she's feeling otherwise withdrawn. She's heading in their general direction, which is probably not a coincidence, though not quickly.

"Yeah," Zach says, nodding. "Looks like I had the wrong guy. Which..." a shrug. "Happens. It's not like every lead I get handed pays out." He reaches up and puts a hand on the back of his neck, rocking it this way and that as if working out a kink he picked up off the ground. "Either way, I'm done with him, so you're not going to get to rumble with me on his behalf." There's a grin there, that tugs at the right side of his mouth, "Sorry."

Salem gives a tight little twitch of a return smile. "That's fine, really. I'm... pretty much full up on people I need to, ah, rumble with anyway. I'd rather another ally in town than an enemy. Or at least a neutral." The way the kid talks, you'd think he owned the city or something.

Ghost angles more toward Salem and Zach as she gets closer, and now that's clearly intentional. "Hey," she says quietly, once she gets close enough. She both sounds and looks tired, her face just a little colorless.

Zach's gaze is drawn by Ghost's approach and it rests there a moment, then his mouth draws into a tight, thin line. He looks away, converting the weakness into a glance toward Salem. The rogueish smirk is late. "I wind up on everyone's shit-list sooner or later," he promises. "For now it's enough that we probably hate the same, ugly people."

"Good enough for me," Salem says, before looking at Ghost. He's less guarded toward her; his expression as he studies her face is concerned -- worried, even. "You don't look well."

Ghost inhales slowly before replying. "Normal sick. Feels normal anyway. Uh, it's something else that's a little weird, I guess." She glances toward Zach, and then gives Salem a questioning look.

"You were right," Zach offers to Ghost, shrugging haplessly. "I had the wrong guy. Wrong place, wrong time sort of deal. Not that the records I peaked at before coming out here were particularly coherent, or even current. We try things, sometimes they succeed."

Salem shrugs. "Shit happens. Nobody was killed, nobody got hurt." He looks at Ghost. "Zach's been checked out. He's okay."

Ghost nods, first in response to Zach, then Salem. "I figured," she says to the not-a-mage. "He's a nice guy though, you might like him. Are we um," this is apparently toward Salem, "filling him in on everything?"

"I'm not putting on a jersey," Zach cautions, "if that's what you mean. I diverted here to find someone I was hoping Mr. Dalton was, and give warning to the folks who owned Harbour Park about the riots. Anything beyond that is..." He shrugs. "I'm not much for the king-and-country bit."

"Not even if said country's in danger from reality-eating ooze that turns people into monsters?" Salem asks, raising an eyebrow. Right after saying that, though, he takes his hands out of his coat pockets and spreads them, palms out. "Not that anyone's asking you to march in lockstep or take an oath. But it's more than just factional turf wars going on, you know?"

"I'm the last person that should uh, should be asking someone to sign up," Ghost murmurs. "I just wanted to know if it was okay to fill you in. There's a lot of dangerous shit in the city right now." The tip of her tongue briefly touches her lower lip. "Although M...Jack knows a lot more than I do about it. I'm still catching up myself."

"Self-damned in a tower," Zach recites, counting items off on his fingertips, "riots that didn't seem to take the first time," the very astute would catch the way his eyes flicker in Ghost's direction, even as he tries to police them, "ooze."

Salem runs a hand back through hair now quite wet from rain. "And earthquakes. And potential cataclysm." Like he's adding items to a grocery list.

"Really weird monsters," Ghost says, though she hasn't raised her voice any. "Weird in a different way from your weird." It's clearly meant to be a joking barb of sorts, but it falls rather flat, sounding weary rather than teasing.

"My weird takes years to cultivate," Zach offers, doing his best to lift the joke up so that it can be more comfortable before it dies - maybe give a one-liner before expiring dramatically and giving Zach the motivation to See It Through(tm). "So, yeah. A lot of these are properly related, but I'm guessing no one's really gotten around to doing all the math yet." Back to Salem again, "I get it. And where it involves me? I do my thing. But I don't play well with others. It's been tried."

Salem scratches his chin, then sniffs and shoves his hands back into the pockets of his oversized coat. "I see. And it's not so much that the math isn't being done, it's that every time it seems like the equation's solved, another variable gets thrown into the mix." He glances around; the advantage of the weather is that nobody's remotely near the three of them. "I feel like we're getting closer to working out /what/ is going on. Stopping it's another issue."

"I've got," Ghost says, a little stilted, clearly reluctant, "I don't know. You know uh, that fight the other day, Jack? Did...you didn't get hurt, did you? I didn't see any injuries. But the others did. Have you seen them since we got back?"

"Stopping is generally more my speed than diagnosing anyway." He keeps an eye on Ghost as she speaks, then adds. "I don't offer much in the way of resources, anyway."

Salem shakes his head at Ghost's question. "As far as I know, the, uh, they headed right back into the mountains. Why?"

Ghost's discomfort is pretty easy to read on her face now. "I got hit once," she explains. "It's uh, nothing serious, not for us. It's just...it's still bleeding. Normally by now something like that would be gone for me. I'm worried about the others."

Zach's shift in attention is as obvious as it is direct and focused. "I can take a look, if you like. I've stitched a few things here or there," the tone is at once disclosing that he's not going into important details there, and that despite the details, he believes he can be of use."

Salem raises eyebrows. He looks from Ghost to Zach and back again.

Ghost looks even more uncertain, and she echoes Salem's look, though between Salem and Zach. "I think someone should check on them, is all," she says, as if the question hadn't been asked, before she does seem to address it. "I don't know how that works for you. Uh. Here's probably not a good place, in any case. It's not really that bad, it's just...weird."

"As you like," Zach says, shrugging. "I'd go with diagnostic Reiki for something like this. I'm assuming you're a natural talent for healing - wounds automatically close up and so on? Something disrupting that usually falls into one of two or three patterns. But, I'm not a doctor, and if it's not bothering or impairing you, that's fine." He shrugs, and crams his hands into his pockets.

"Do we need to move to some place private for this?" Salem asks, looking up at Zach.

Ghost's expression turns to blatant curiosity, in spite of herself. "Yeah," she says. "More than uh, more than people that weren't born quite like I was, even. Normally this would be gone already. No mark. Maybe a little sore for a bit. It's not a big deal for me, but...but it wouldn't hurt to take a look, I guess." A beat. "Or does it? Does it cost you any to look?"

"That's up to her," Zach answers, indicating Ghost. "I don't give two shits." To Ghost's questions, he addresses her directly. "Cost me? Nothing. Just time. It might cost you, though. It's easier if I touch the effected area, and there's other things that come along for the ride. If a doctor would figure it out giving you a solid look-over? There's a good chance I'll figure it out. No awkward gowns, though." This time the shrug is meant to downplay the sartorial advantages of his methods.

Salem rubs his chin, looking thoughtful. "I know a place a couple of blocks from here. An apartment. Temporarily empty, but at least it's out of the weather."

Ghost nods once. "Okay. Let's try it, anyway. If you can see what's wrong maybe we'll know how to help the others if they're having the same problem."

Zach nods, once, and turns to Salem. "Lead the way, then, man."

(...)

Salem leads the way out of the park. On the way, he pulls out his cellphone and calls Rina up -- for moral support maybe, or to get her impressions, later, about Zach -- to meet them at a recently vacated apartment a block or two from Phoenix Park. Why Salem has the key to an empty one-bedroom that smells like new (beige) paint and new (cheap) carpeting is anyone's guess, but the power's on and it is, as he mentioned, out of the weather.

Ghost keeps up without apparent difficulty, though the very observant might notice a regular hitch to her step. She keeps the hood up until they reach the apartment, but regardless of that, her hair is pretty damp when she finally pushes it back. That lack of color to her cheeks is stronger under artificial lighting; she definitely looks under the weather, though not to the point of concerning. As they step inside, she looks around, taking the place in, with sharp interest.

Zach nods, approvingly. "Better than plenty of places I've managed," he confesses as he sheds the leather jacket and rather damp hoodie he'd been wearing as outer layers. "Yours?" He inquires, of Salem. It's implied by the circumstances of his access perhaps, but Zach asks as if to confirm a suspicion.

Salem shrugs out of the big black adult-sized wool overcoat and drapes it on a kitchen counter. "Borrowed," he answers Zach. "I have access for a few weeks, maybe a month, before the new residents move in. So if there's going to be a mess, we should move to the bathroom."

"Bathroom," Ghost agrees. "You have uh, spare gauze, tape? It's just a cut, but like I said, won't stop bleeding."

Zach gestures to Ghost, "It's her body, her call," he says, nodding. He pulls back his arms to straighten out his spine and loosen up joints as if warming up for something. Perhaps he's simply dispelling the cold.

There's a fairly quiet knock at the door.

Salem shows Ghost to the bathroom, which looks like your standard tub-shower-vanity-sink-toilet affair. He produces a decently-sized first-aid kid from the cabinet under the sink (where is also stowed a bucket, bleach, and other cleaning supplies; the kid comes prepared). He leaves Ghost and Zach to it while he goes to answer the door.

Ghost immediately strips off her jacket, the button-up long-sleeve shirt underneath (currently and almost always unbuttoned), and then, without any real sign of shyness, the short sleeved shirt under that. She's already taped up the injury, which judging by where she's placed it takes up a fairly sized diagonal slice along her ribs, and true to what she's been saying, the bandages are reddened. "Sec," she mutters to Zach. "Gotta get this off." There's something a little...odd, about her exposed body. Something a little /too/ perfect about the toned muscles and how they move, but it's only a tiny, uneasy sensation, a sort of quiet uncanny valley that sits at the back of the mind and mostly the subconscious.

Mini-Bowie narrows her eyes at Salem. "Don't say a fuckin' word," she mutters. "I was on my way somewhere." She steps in, leaning the umbrella in a corner and shrugging out of her jacket. "So what's the deal?" She keeps her voice down, her peripheral attention taking in the empty apartment.

"Don't," Zach says, raising a hand, "Leave it covered for now. And uhhh... you can stay clothed." He sets the first-aid kit aside. "Technically the ideal here is you'd be laying, supine, palms toward the sky. But fuck all that; get comfortable. This can take some time. Maybe fifteen minutes."

Salem raises a single eyebrow at Rina. That is all. Closing the door behind her, he explains, likewise keeping his voice low. "A group of us went to Olympia to check out the bunker where Ghost's pack were killed. Found some of those creatures made up of the Ooze. She was hurt in the fight, and it's not healing. Zach offered to take a look." He pauses a moment, mouth thinned. Even quieter, he adds, "I'm worried about her."

"Been worried since we met," Rina murmurs in answer. The exposed shoulder holster looks a little odd, to say the least, strapped over the crimson silk pirate shirt; she takes it off, tucks the gun at the back of her waist gangster-style, and tosses the empty tangle of leather atop her jacket.

Ghost pauses just as she starts to peel off the tape, then shrugs and turns to sit on the toilet, seat down. "Habit, I guess." That look of intense curiosity is back. "What's the reason for that? The position, I mean."

Salem nods, expression rueful, one hand scruffing through wet black hair. "...Yes, I know. Interestingly, the things were afraid of her. Once she actually engaged with one, it practically shat itself trying to get away."

"Officially?" Zach offers, in answer, "Connects the Yin channels to the Earth and presents the Yang channel to the stars. But let's face it. We're in a building made of steel and concrete, surrounded by plastic and ceramic besides, and even certified practitioners do this stuff on massage tables." He shrugs. "Very little in this world happens under ideal conditions. I'm good enough to work with whatever, it's a matter of learning to listen despite the noise." He's washing his hands as he explains and is drying them now. "Is touch okay?" The question, in addition to being a little awkward (he's brandishing his freshly cleaned hands at her) is full of gravitas. "I can work without. It's just easier with."

Rina frowns at the kid. "Shit," she drawls.

Ghost hesitates a moment, as if she has to think about that one, but then she nods. "Yeah, it's fine." Her skin feels, should he touch, somehow a little too warm, and a little clammy together. Slight fever, maybe. "The people I've seen do any kind of healing weren't very symbolic about it," she says. "They just sort've...touch you for a bit and that's it. Maybe say a prayer, depending on the person."

Salem nods again. "...At the very least, we were able to bring back the bodies," he says, looking in the general direction of the bathroom. "I'm hoping we can arrange a decent Gathering for them. They were family, after all. Hers as well as ours."

Rina's expression tightens, and she follows the direction of his gaze. "Yeah," she says quietly. "So he's a healer?"

Zach nods, once, and lays his left hand on Ghost's forehead. The other he lays over, though without any real pressure, on her wound. His own hands are only superficially warmed by the washing. Beneath, the long time he spent in the weather has chilled his extremities. They are, however, quick to warm as his work begins. His eyes close, and his voice goes somewhere distant. "Not everyone's into tradition," he admits. "I'm probably not good enough to actually heal this, but I can probably figure out what the hell is wrong."

"Either one's more than I can do," Ghost points out. Her forehead is definitely warm, but not dangerously so. She sits still, just a little comfortably slumped. "Does it help if I tell you what's usual? We, uh, that is, people who can do what I do, heal up pretty fast on our own. It just happens as long as we aren't pushing ourselves."

Salem scratches at the side of his neck. "He said he knew enough to look and see if he could figure out what was wrong. He's not a complete stranger to shifter things, apparently. Though he's not willing to step up and sign his life away to us the way, well, you-know-who has."

Rina frowns a little, looking over to Salem in mild confusion.

"I know," Zach assures Ghost, distantly, as if his attention was decidedly elsewhere. "I've had friends here and there." His breathing settles in to match her own. It's a subtle thing, the sort of thing that most people don't notice unless they've been told to look, but it's the moment that Zach's presence changes from a person easy to overlook, to a person who couldn't be more obvious. 'Forceful' is a shorthand, here, for a presence that fills up space in a stereotypically masculine fashion. It sweeps aside whatever is before it. The shock-front of a detonation.

Up close, Ghost becomes /decidedly/ aware of Zach's physical proximity. He is In Her Face, Taking Up Space, and being Loud and Proud about the fact. Even so, there isn't anything overtly or directly invasive in how he works, but even just this tangential contact fills the small bathroom.

At a distance, the press of Zach's handiwork is less... immediate, but still palpably present, raising the hairs on the back of Salem's neck the way a proper staredown might, albeit without the direct clash of wills involved. Not a flash in the pan thing, either. This is sustained.

Ghost's casual conversation comes to a rather abrupt stop as he begins, and he can feel her tensing beneath his hands. There's a short breath from her, and another, before she seems to get the full handle on herself. "That's..." she says, a little breathlessly, "...different."

Salem's about to answer Rina when Zach starts doing his thing, and the boy goes quite still, nostrils flaring in a quite animal manner. With light, careful, quiet steps, he moves through the apartment toward the bathroom, though remains in the short hallway outside.

As before, Rina's focus follows Salem's own. She tips her head a little, as if trying to catch a distant sound, and her expression is just a little puzzled. She doesn't speak, but follows him almost silently.

"Just breathe," Zach says to Ghost. "This wound is... nasty. Like... to the bone nasty." He frowns faintly as he says the words. "What the.... found the problem... wait... no, that's... not an injury... per se." He doesn't react to Salem's presence, if he's even aware of it - and there's good evidence he's not. The amount of focus written on his face makes plain that right now Ghost is Zach's whole sensed world.

Ghost's eyebrows draw together as she watches Zach, but she mostly seems torn between that heightened uneasiness at the feel of his power, and her utter curiosity at what exactly he's doing, which she can't see at all. "Breathing," she says, and she does make an effort of it. She relaxes a little, if not as much as before, and draws in a very careful, very long breath.

Salem remains very quiet and still just outside the bathroom, watching without invading the space. One hand rests on the doorjamb, thin fingers unconsciously and silently tapping -- fidgeting, really -- against the freshly painted wood.

The minutes pass. Zach suggested fifteen, it's probably more like ten. But with nothing else to do, ten minutes takes its sweet time. Finally, that flood of Zach-ness that fills the air around him recedes. It's a gradual process, much slower than the swiftness that it arrived when he began. After a moment, though, all that's left of that presence is the slowly fading memory that it existed at all. Then his hands come away from Ghost. "Okay," he says. "Couple of things... the first? Is that's not a minor injury. That's a pretty nasty gash you got there? And it's not healing - you're right. That'd have most folks in the hospital for several days, though. This is not minor boo-boo country."

Ghost grimaces a little in response. "Sorry, I guess I should have, uh, clarified. Minor to people who can turn into big hairy angry things. Especially people born as big hairy angry things. Normally that would have been gone in a day. No sweat, just keep it clean, tape it up, I'm good. The others in the fight, they were /really/ torn up. I should have said comparatively."

Salem grimaces and drags fingers back through his hair, making some of it stick up in a comically unkempt way. "Shit," he says, eloquently.

"Don't think you're so special," Zach cautions, but there's little force behind it. "A wound is a wound, and for this one you're following the same rules as everyone else... except this won't even heal on the timescale it would for me - unattended." Which brings him to, "Second: This is related to the ooze problem you say? So... I've only heard second and third-hand descriptions of the stuff, but here's what it did:" his hands come up before his chest and he interlaces his fingers. "The wound is basically separated," his hands come apart without changing their pose, pulled by the motion of his arms as he opens his shoudlers, "from the part of her entelechy that drives the healing. It's like a blood vessel being severed, so you don't get circulation to the injury - but on a more essential, even spiritual level. It's like the wound has forgotten how to repair itself - the instructions were deleted. Someone more familiar with this stuff could knit it back together, someone more familiar with the whole shebang might be able to re-install the instructions, as it were. I haven't had the time to sort all that shit out, myself."

"I didn't mean..." Ghost starts, but then sighs. "Alright. Sorry. I'm just used to not worrying much about injuries this size." This size. Yes. "I've never had to. But...okay, if it did that to me, then we really need to check on the others soon. As for the ooze, I just..." She glances toward Salem. "I really don't know. They were some kind of monsters. It was really hard to look at them."

"Aright," says the one voice that might be unfamiliar to Zach. A low alto, slightly scratchy from overuse, with a mild Chicago accent. "Talk to me about this ooze thing? I've been... outta the loop, what with my significant other." Really, there's no final 'r' on that. "Or maybe go over the whole fight, even, after we get home."

"Salem passes a hand across his face, looking weary. "Have to get word out to check the others," he mutters, then looks at Rina. "...There's a lot, but, yes, I can fill you in."

Zach nods, sighing again. "Well whatever they are, they're serious business. You need to get this injury examined by people who know better. Anyone you can trust, ideally."

"Hmp." The noise sounds almost like a laugh. Ghost reaches for her shirt and begins redressing about as quickly as she undressed. "I'm uh, I'm not sure those people exist. But point taken." The button-up overshirt is next. "All I know about this ooze stuff is somehow I'm connected or...there's just something about me that interacts with it strangely." She slides an arm through one sleeve. "The monsters were..." A pause. "Big. Uh. I don't think they had any eyes."

"Maybe my guy can look at it," Rina says, painted eyes sober as she glances in. She's probably stolen at least one glance during the process of Zach's magic, but this time she looks at Ghost, a touch of worry in her expression. Then she gets out of the way entirely, leaning against the wall outside the bathroom to wait for the others.

"Maybe my guy can look at it," Rina says, painted eyes sober as she glances in. She's probably stolen at least one glance during the process of Zach's magic, but this time she looks at Ghost, a touch of worry in her expression. Then she gets out of the way entirely, leaning against the wall outside the bathroom to wait for the others.

Salem blinks at Rina. "Fuck me, why didn't I think of that?" He pulls a face, nose wrinkling, annoyed at himself. Looking to the metis in the bathtub, he asks, "Ghost, you still using that place I showed you?"

"They sound like charmers," Zach agrees, leaving the room in two steps as Ghost begins dressing. "Either way, you're going to have to unlearn your habits of jumping in and expecting to shrug it off afterwards if you see them again. I mean, if you asked me how I'd hit someone who constantly healed like that? This is basically the ideal of how I'd do it. I'm not even sure I could pull it off without a whole lot of forethought, either."

Ghost gives the doorway a curious, questioning glance, but it's not entirely clear which of the three sparked that reaction. "Sometimes. I uh, rotate. There. Emma showed me her place. Your tower. I don't sleep at Edgewood though."

Salem nods slowly. "Maybe you should stay at the tower for a few days. It's more secure. Safer." The kid is worried for sure. He scruffs fingers back through his hair again. "Can you see her to there, Rina? I have to take a hike."

"Our place? Yeah, shua," Rina answers. Then, with a touch of something bitter, she adds, "Maybe the Dancers got a world-warper on their side." She crosses her arms and studies Zach.

There's a pronounced roll of Zach's eyes, entirely for Rina's benefit. "There's no mystique to the self-damned," he says, tiredly. "They're here and they're working as a group..." he includes the trio in the gravitas of that statement. "They don't tend to do that. So yeah, whoever's calling the shots has a LOT of pull."

"I don't think these were Dancer monsters," Ghost says as she gets to her feet, though there's no real certainty in her voice on that statement. "But it's hard to even think about them now. Big, like I said. And...no eyes? And cold. It felt cold when I got hit too." She puts one hand to the part of her shirt covering the bandaged wound, forehead wrinkled. "...But I really don't know anything about mages."

Salem shakes his head again and heads back out through the apartment, gathering up the oversized overcoat and bundling himself into it. He heads back toward the bathroom to thank Zach, sincerely but definitely distractedly.

"Walk safe, Jack," Rina says when he passes by again. The glance she gives Salem conveys *something*--maybe no more than the depth of the relationship between them.