Geologist: Dr. Magnus Urquhart

[John Gaunt]

"Fine," he sputters acidly, "do what you needs to be done but keep me out of it!"

Magnus retreats into the kitchen and dampens a hand towel. With bloodied fingers he attempts to administer to his wound but his efforts just make matters worse and he shrieks in pain.

[Laraqua]

Gemma starts rushing about her little apartment, searching for her stash of drugs. The 'toy' simply stands by the shut door, pressing his weight up against it.

[John Gaunt]

OOC: Do the botched 1st Aid and Con check have any other repercussions?

[Laraqua]

OOC: No, as far I was aware you only botch skill checks at 100. It's guns that can botch on lower rolls. Feel free to direct me to the relevant page if I'm wrong.

[John Gaunt]

OOC: No, that's cool. Another game I was in had negative effects at 95-100.

[John Gaunt]

"Fer Chrissakes, would someone call an ambulance!?" Magnus roars.

[Laraqua]

Milly's mobile phone begins to ring. Her ring tone is the sound of barking dogs. She answers it on the third ring. "Hello?" She continues to bustle about, searching.

[John Gaunt]

OOC: Milly or Gemma? I'm confused.

[Laraqua]

OOC: Whoops, Gemma. Problem with running so many games.

[Laraqua]

There is a knock at the door. Gemma turns to look at Magnus, arching an eyebrow as though inquiring him for what she should do. She's holding a small bag of marijuana and some tabs.

[John Gaunt]

"Well, I hardly think our murderer forgot something and has the manners to knock first! Tell your idjit to open the door! I'm fookin' bleedin' to death here!" Magnus bellows.

[Laraqua]

The 'toy' immediately goes over to the door and opens it up.

[Laraqua]

Background music.

OOC: Magnus left this thread to join a Combined Milly LeCrique and Magnus Urquhart thread and has now returned.

The foyer is empty and somehow looks even more disheveled than when he first entered. The shadows seem deeper, the nicotine-stained wallpaper further aged, and the soggy carpet by the partially opened door that has become so warped by time it no longer appears to self-closes, being further testament to the shabby disrepair of this apartment building, and by extension, of his trip abroad. For a short time he had held a beauty in his arms, only to have it snatched away by the horror of brutal death, the threat of his own death, his injury, and later abandonment by her.

His neck screams in agony as the blood continues to pump from the wound, making him feel light-heated, nauseas, and slightly dizzy. As he reaches out a hand to steady himself, as he leaves the elevator, he feels the world start to turn upon its axis somewhat, as though threatening to leave him lying on the floor. The wound requires attention. He knows it with each pump of his heart.

[John Gaunt]

He stabs the elevator button repeatedly with his bloodied finger, stifling a moan of pain. This evening has been a surreal nightmare. "I shoulda ordered in tonight," the wounded Scotsman muses, his tumescence long since retreated.

[Laraqua]

The elevator doors close and with a lurch, it begins to descend to the ground floor. Lurching out the lobby, he sees a taxi still sitting there.

[John Gaunt]

Looking about the shabby lobby and doing his best to wipe off his bloodied fingers on his leather pants, Magnus grasps the door handle of the awaiting taxi and attempts to recall the German word for hospital...

[Laraqua]

The taxi driver may or may not have understood the word, but he gets the message, snarling at Magnus as he drips blood onto the interior of his vehicle as he drives off, presumably in the direction of the hospital. Water falls onto the windshield, wiped away into droplets that sparkle in the light.

[John Gaunt]

Exhaling, his relief palpable, Magnus gazes out the back window of the departing taxi, his eyes casting about for signs of the mysterious assailant, his erstwhile playmate(s), the mysterious and sexy interloper, and/or the local constabulary...

[Laraqua]

The taxi driver soon takes him to the front of a hospital that has a lot of brightly lit glass. He snarls at Magnus, waving his hand about and pointing at it, tapping the fingers, then rubbing them again. He stabs a sticker stuck onto the dashboard that has a money value on it and a picture of a man throwing up - you can't read the German it's written on.

[John Gaunt]

"Lovely," Magnus mutters through clenched teeth, wincing as he grasps for his money roll. Flinging a generous amount of bills onto the driver's side, he takes his leave from the taxi and its surly driver.

"Gute Nacht," he sneers insincerely through a faux Cheshire grin. Purposely leaving the rear door ajar, with his good arm, the ill-tempered Scotsman extends the universally understood middle finger.