Visiting Hours

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Where: Zan's Hospital Room

When: May 10, 2012; Lunchtime

What: Making sure the wounded isn't totally bored during his stay, and explaining a few things, if vaguely.

Outside Zan's room at the hospital, Rylie's voice can be heard, fast talking over a nurse who apparently doesn't think she should be bothering the patient. When she opens the door around the woman, she looks professionally dressed, like she might have actually been in to work, aside from one arm sitting in a sling. And she's carrying some bags.

"— won't be a bother. Official business, see? Straight from the mayor's office, thanks much!" The blonde closes the door behind her before the nurse can get another protest out, and leans against it to let out an exaggerated whew.

Maybe surprisingly, Zan's awake. And probably has been for a while, though it might be difficult to tell. Any form of entertainment is non-existent, at least, the television is off and there are no books to be had. The bed he's been mostly confined to is raised at the top end so it's not resting completely flat, covers are strewn haphazardly, and somehow he's managed to procure a set of scrubs rather than one of those questionable hospital gowns.

His attention is already turned to the door when Rylie closes it. A grin touches the corners of his mouth. "They're worse than prison guards," he jokes quietly. Overall, he looks like hell. Cleaned up at least, but the various abuses left quite the mark on him.

"They are. Although, I think it's easier than that to get into a prison," Rylie says with a smile of her own. She leans of the door testingly, but when it doen't fly right open, she walks over drop into a chair next to the bed. "I brought you some stuff to pas the tiem in here. DVD player. Some movies I'm assured will intrigue the film maker types. Or anger them, which is just as entertaining."

She drops the bags she's brought to the floor, using her one good hand to dig around before she pulls out a bag of snack food that actually tastes good. But she slides it into a drawer to keep out of sight of the nurses when they come along. But when she finally actually looks at him, her smile falters just a little. "Well. You don't look so bad," she says gently.

While he doesn't try to sit up further, Zan turns a little to look curiously at the bag. He grins when the contents are described, brows lifting as snacks are produced and hidden. He shoots a glance toward the door then says a little conspiratorially, "Think you can smuggle some real food in here too?" Might be more difficult, but pizza has got to be better than the stuff they've been feeding him.

His grin fades a little, the edges soften toward a smile when hers fails a little. "C'mon, be honest," he teases gently then shakes his head. "I'm alright, Rylie. Little worse for the wear, but I'll heal and be out of here in no time. Soon as I am, I'm taking you out for burgers and shakes."

"I'll give it a try next time. Maybe I can scale something up the side of the building." Rylie leans on her good arm on the edge of the bed, chin resting in her hand. "Yeah, this place is tripping over itself to give the prince of Vegas the best care they can manage," she says with a chuckle. "Burgers and shakes. Now I feel spoiled."

"Prince of Vegas," Zan echoes, not quite chuckling himself. He sounds amused by the title, though, finding it better than some others he's been called in his lifetime. His head turns toward her again, gaze settling on her as he gives a little lift of one shoulder. "You should, you deserve it. We'll go all out, bacon, cheesy fries, chocolate shakes. And chocolate chip cookies after."

"Yeah, that's you apparently," Rylie says, her smile crooked. She sits up some, and her hand drops to cover his. It's not quite hand holding, but near enough. "Then hurry up and get out of here, because that's exactly what I need."

She looks down a moment, though, and then over to the door for a glance before she looks back to him. "So you're not mad? About… the thing." You know. That thing that happened. It's all very clear.

Zan smiles and rolls his eyes. "I'd be out today if I could convince them. Anyone." He turns his hand over and gives hers a light squeeze, looking at her again. "About …being kidnapped?" Though that's not exactly what he means. His brow creases slightly, it's not really a frown and he doesn't seem angry at all. "I… I'm still trying to understand it. What happened. How… I'm more confused than anything."

"Well, maybe when you look a little less like a punching bag they'll listen." Rylie squeezes his hand in return, as she nods. "Yeah— that part at the end…" She watches his expression, understanding on her own. And apology. "Well, I'll explain everything once we can be… blunt." And likely not in a place with other people hanging around, "but I just— That wasn't meant to happen. But I'll help. You know. It's a little bumpy at the beginning." And she's been there. Obviously.

"Part of me wishes it could be passed off as a dream. —Can you…" The rest of the question is implied, if not spoken, and Zan watches Rylie while the rest trails off. He can't help but be curious, he hadn't been dreaming after all. "Rylie," he continues, gently and without waiting for her to answer, "you don't have to apologize. I'm not upset and… You didn't do anything. Just… is it going to happen again?"

Rylie looks down at their hands when he speaks, nodding here and there to prove she's listening. But that gaze shifts back to him at the last question. "Yes. With or without me, it'll happen again. It's part of you now." Her tone is gentle, like she's not entirely sure she's delivering good news. Sometimes people don't take it well. "My part won't, though. Not ever. Not unless you want— it to."

Part of him. That, more than anything else seems to temporarily sober Zan. He looks up at the lifeless television, expression a cloud of thought, parsing the information. So many questions, yet they have to wait until there's little worry for listeners. That much he's easily certain of. "I'll be alright with it," he says finally, turning his head to look at her again, giving her hand another squeeze.

"Of course you will," Rylie says with a wider smile. "I have to admit, it was pretty awesome to watch." And considering the randomness of these things, lucky it wasn't something more widely dangerous. "And like I said. I can help with practice. Luckily, we've got this wide expanse of desert to play around in."

"Even after I bit it," Zan asks with a grin. That landing was not his most graceful moment, though unlikely to be the last time he crashes so artfully. "I'd like your help," he adds, giving her hand a light tug. "Probably going to need it." His eyes tick past Rylie toward the door, then focus on her again. "Enough about me and my convalescence. How are you since that…? I hadn't seen you since we got out."

"Even then," she agrees with a soft laugh. "Maybe especially then, I'll have to see it more often to judge." While she smiles at the tug, his question dims her expression. "Oh, you know. Just trying to get back to normal. I had to arm wrestle your dad to let me go back to work. And then he made me take three hours for lunch. But I decided to use them productively." Which is why she's here just now. "You know, just trying to… move on. The arm's not happy with me, though." Bullet wounds, it's one weakness.

A nod follows, Zan's gaze picking up the sling. Concern settles in and he rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," the words come, though the incident isn't his fault he still feels partly responsible. "You look nice, though. Can't even tell anything happened." He smiles a bit though it does little to mask his worry.

"Yeah, I just tell people I tripped on my heels and fell, they buy it." Rylie squeezes his hand, her smile returning, if a little sad. "I don't blame you. Crazy things happen. It's no one's fault but theirs. Seriously. I don't think it's even because of you that they took all of us. I think some people just live to hurt people. And to cause chaos. Burn things down. You know."

Her excuse causes Zan to smile a little more. It's a good excuse, and safe. Far from the truth. "I know you don't blame me," he says finally. "And it's not wholly my fault. Just…" He shrugs, some things just can't be explained. He turns his head, looking up at the ceiling. "Think I should tell people I took a crash course in rugby. Something."

Rylie laughs there, nodding a few times. "That's a good one. Rugby initiation. Maybe a college prank gone awry. You're not in a frat by any chance, are you?" They're a good excuse for just about anything. "Fortunately, the PR guy is the one that has to dream up a good excuse for you. Poor guy."

"No, I'm not in a frat," Zan chuckles himself. Likely not the most comfortable thing, wincing slightly as it happens. It only seems to make him laugh a little more. His free hand pulls over his middle, and it's a comical moment of pained giggles before he quells the laughter. It's still in his tone, though, when he speaks again. "So glad I'm not the PR guy. Seriously."

"Whoa there, soldier, don't make me call the nurses in because you got the giggles." Of course, it all only makes Rylie laugh, too, which probably doesn't help. But she presses her lips together in an effort to stop her own contribution. "Yeah, could you imagine? Horrible job." There's a glance up toward the clock, which helps even out her mood a little. "Speaking of jobs. I really should get back to mine."

That definitely helps stop any remaining laughter, and though Zan still smiles it's a little on the down side. "Probably," he agrees, though in a tone that asks her to stay anyway. "Don't want my dad upset. He can be a real taskmaster sometimes."

While his words have her nodding in agreement, when Rylie looks back to him, she hesitates there in her seat. A smile sneaks back into her expression, soft though it is. "You know. I think he might be able to survive this afternoon on his own, actually."

She tilts her head toward the bags she brought along. "And movies are always more fun with two anyway. Yeah?"

For a moment, Zan just studies her while she works out her agreement to stay. His hand tightens around hers again when it's settled and e nods. "If not, just blame me," he says easily. Such a horrible influence sometimes when it comes to responsibilities, this one. "It's a good day for a movie, too," he states while he scoots himself aside to make space for moving watching.

"I would never. I'll just start crying. He never knows what to do when that happens." Rylie glances back toward the door when he scoots over, like she jut knows some nurse is about to come in and yell, but when no one does, she kicks her shoes off and grabs the movies before climbing up beside him. It's all sort of haphazard, being one handed, but she can only grin about once she gets settled. "Now hopefully at least one of these is any good," she says when she pops in the first movie. Art house films. You never know.

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