Carrie Martin
Junior Member
Healer
Pffft....you know I look damn sexy in my work uniform
Posts: 107
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Post by Carrie Martin on Aug 17, 2006 8:14:33 GMT -5
"Your daddy's little girl, princess. Never forget." "Am I really a princess, daddy?" "Real royalty, and I'm going to give you anything you want." "I want a pony." "Done." "Goodnight daddy. I'll see you tomorrow..." "Yeah...I'll...I'll see you tomorrow." Caroline Martin sat up in her bed, her sheets tangled around her legs, her pillows strewn on the floor. Groaning loudly, she flopped back down on the mattress, rolling from side to side in frustration. The same damn dream, the same cruddy ending. Just once she'd like to wake up to father who would always be there. But that day wasn't today. Glancing at her bed side clock, it read 5:08. Five oh freaking eight on a Sunday!. Wait...it wasn't Sunday. It was Monday! "We're late..." she muttered to herself first, not really believing it. Then realization sunk in. "We're late!" She squealed, jumping off the bed, she scurried over, still wearing nothing but white cotton underwear and her oversized St. Mungo Hospital t-shirt, to where Aimee lay, enjoying her beauty rest. Oh, this was going to be lovely. Aimee wasn't exactly Miss Sunshine in the morning. Her best friend usually wasn't fully up and kicking until she had some caffine and a good breakfast. But the best way to handle a situation like this was like ripping off a bandaid. No second thoughts, just make it fast. Grabbing the end of the covers, Carrie winced and tugged hard, yanking them off her best friends sleeping body. "We're late! It's five! We have to be at the hospital in exactly 22 minutes! Lets go!" She screamed, clapping her hands. Tearing down the hallway, she poked her blonde head into the boys room. They both seemed asleep, although Ben had his pillow forced over his head like he was trying to block the sounds of the morning out. Uch, boys. Rolling her eyes, she dashed into the room, flicking on the light as she entered. From the corner she could hear Darcy groan. "Get up! Common! We're late! Ben, lets go. There are people on floor number two that need OUR help!" No response. Yanking the pillow off of Ben's head, she threw it on the ground before jumping on him and his bed, shaking him awake. Sighing overdramatically, she gave up, and tackled Darcy on his bed,trying desperately to pull the covers away from him to no avail. He had a death grip on them. He mumbled something rude and rolled over. Sitting on her knees in a big pout, she wrinkled her nose at them both, before lowering herself to practically on top of Darcy, bringing her mouth close to his ear. She smirked, and licked her lips, and she could feel his body tensing. She knew that both Ben and Darcy liked her, and that this little game she was playing was messing with both there hearts. But this was a matter of importance. The boys could lose their jobs, or even worse, their patients. "Wake! Up!" She yelled in his ear, hopping off his bed and exited their room still in a bee line for the bathroom. She was standing just outside of the boys door when she saw Aimee emerge, just outside their bedroom door. The boys bedroom was a little closer to the bathroom, but both girls new what it meant to be the first one in. Especially on a day like today, when they were all running late, and bathroom time was precious. She got in her ready position, knowing it would be a mad dash for the shower. Aimee was fast, but Carrie had a lesser distance. No sooner had she readied herself when she felt a bump from behind her. Darcy stood directly behind her, and Ben behind him. This was war. Taking off down the hallway, she scrambled and managed to reach the bathroom door first, but Darcy was right on her heals. Squealing, she yanked the door open and they both wedged themselves between the door frame, pushing to get in. "Common Darcy! Please! Just once I'd like the toilet seat to be down, and have some hot water to shower in! Please! Oh common! Ladies first!" And with that, she squeezed her tiny figure into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and locking it defiantly. Leaning against the door, she looked to the two sinks and the tiny clock they had set between them to remind them of the time. 5:15. No time for a shower. Sighing loudly to be sure everyone in the hallway heard her, she unlocked the door. Might as well let everyone in to share the sinks if she wasn't going to be able to shower. Opening the door with an exasperated look on her face, she saw Darcy, leaning against the frame. Gesturing to the bathroom, she sulked back to her sink and picked up her tooth brush. Ben, Darcy and Aimee filed in, crowding the bathroom she had just seconds ago rightfully claimed as her own. Brushing her teeth quickly so as to get out of the way, she escaped back into the room she shared with Aimee, looking to her floor for something to wear under the work uniform. It was a little known fact that Carrie couldn't sleep unless her room was a mess, a thing which often bothered Aimee, but now, in the rushed state of things, she was quite happy for her weird mannerisms. Picking a pair of jeans, she slipped them on and just decided to keep the St. Mungo's top on. Pulling her hair up out of her face, blonde curls still going slightly askew in a way that would only work for Carrie, she slipped out into the kitchen where she grabbed a handy muggle breakfast, the PopTart, as well as her zebra stripped purse. Tapping her foot uneasily, she waited by the door for the others to hurry it up. Late was not acceptable. Carrie could hear the rest of the group stuggling to get ready, but the clock in the kitchen read 5:25. There was no way they would make it halfway across the city to St. Mungo's on time. That left only one thing. Floo. Grabbing the pot they left on the hearth, she through some into the fireplace and it roared to life with green flames. She held her hand up to shield it from the sudden blast of light, before taking a step closer to it. "We're going to have to Floo over! See you guys in five, cus' that's all you got!" Stepping into the flames, she felt as if she was being wretched out of her body as she spiraled through the fire place. It seemed like ages until her feet landed on something solid and she faltered out of the St. Mungo's fire place, stumbling right into an angry looking nurse. "Your late." "No, I'm not...I still have...30 seconds." She beamed, sliding into the longue to change into her work outfit. Looking at herself in the mirror, she sniggered. "Damn. I look good in green." She snicked sarcastically, making her way back out into the hallway. Grabbing her clipboard off of its post, she scanned the few new names on her patients list, before making her way toward the elevator. Floor number two, here I come.
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 18, 2006 3:24:00 GMT -5
[Insert Emmy's fabulous post here.] -Grin- I will post but I have to go to a play. Rawr. So...later. I will post later.
Oh yeah and anyone else can join! -Snorts- I'm not, like claiming the thread.
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 18, 2006 10:42:06 GMT -5
In Aimee’s earliest memory she was four and drowning in the backyard swimming pool. Her parents had sworn black and blue that it wasn’t a natural memory, that she had in fact convinced herself that she could remember only because it had found itself the topic of discussion so many times in her life but Aimee was certain. How could she have imagined that feeling that burned in her chest? How could she have described in such detail the way the water rippled above her head as she had slipped from the step into the depths below? Bubbles had frothed overhead, a rush of escaping pearls blossoming around her skin and heading in the one direction she could not go. She was four years old and petrified of swimming pools. Not swimming itself but swimming pools. She’d been tossed off the back of boats in the middle of no where since she was tiny but the idea of being contained shocked her and the idea of swimming pools fitted into that. She was four years old and she was sinking, pulled by gravity her brown hair had streamed dark in the water above her like a flag. She could remember the arms that had reached in and snatched her up, the tears that streamed down two cheeks pressed together, a promise without words. Her mother had clutched her sobbing daughter, blinded by her own relief that streamed down her face. Her clothes were saturated and her husband stood behind her, two towels in his hands. Aimee had never felt safer.
What is it about a rescue that makes you feel so safe? Is it just the fact that you will live another moment, putting a stopper in the jaws of death? Or the fact that you experienced a moment where everything came crashing down into what it was, leaving you defenceless and being able to build everything back up again created the type of security that only after a reminder that you weren’t elusive could bring? Aimee knew she wasn’t untouchable, she’d live long enough to realise the reality of the situation. Heck she had to share a bathroom with four other females for the majority of her life so far.
It was after the drowning instant that she had realised at the young age of four that terrible things happened without the influence of a witch or under –the-bed-monster. It was at the age of four that she realised she could scream and no one could hear her. That the world wouldn’t hold still for the few moments it took to regain her confidence, to glue the smile back to her face. From the age of four Aimee learnt how to cope.
Which is turned out was indeed a necessity of life. So many times she had leant on the fact that she defined herself purely by herself, and always, for herself. She didn’t need anyone else. She’d been raised well with a loving family in a loving supporting environment. So how had it reached this point? The point of no return where the girl who had always been so set on morals was sleeping with a married man, was in love with a married man? It clashed with every fibre in her body and yet in a way, it felt so right. There was a small part of her brain holding hands with her heart, saying it’s okay. You’re not perfect, but you don’t need to change. It’s okay. However, that tiny voice, spoke at almost a whisper, drowned out by the rest of her brain that screamed bloody morals and instinct.
GOD DAMMIT WOMAN. HE IS MARRIED. HE IS NOT AVALIABLE, HE IS TAKEN. GET YOUR BLOODY HEAD SCREWED ON STRAIGHT. END IT DAMMIT, BEFORE YOU WIND UP THE FOOL.
It was her conscience. She knew deep down what she was doing by moral standing, by her own personal standards just wasn’t right, wasn’t acceptable by anyone. Not her friends, her family, society, the law, no one. But she couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t explain herself. When she was around him it was insane. She loved him to the point she hated him. She wanted to live out her life with him, she wanted to be seen with him, she wanted him to be proud of her, she didn’t want to have to sneak around, to hide what they had. But she didn’t want to upset what she had. Cassandra. She even encouraged him to go to couple counselling. Jesus, Aimee was self-destructive.
Covers wrenched off her body, cold air washing over her skin, the pale morning light acting as a spotlight gleaming too brightly in her eyes; and suddenly Aimee wasn’t self-destructive. She was Carrie-destructive.
Burying her face into a mound of pillows she reached, blind hands for the covers, a groan escaping her lips. Aimee was not a morning person. Carrie knew this well and truly before she wrenched her best friends’ covers back. She knew the bite she would receive and Aimee hoped she felt the pillow that was chucked in her direction. Aimee needed coffee. She needed her jam toast. She needed her newspaper and a shower. Instead, however she got a wake up call followed by a time check. They were late? Shit. Lucy would not be impressed.
After the sprint to the shower and never attempting to break it down Aimee began to make herself presentable. Tying her mane of brown locks into a ponytail she tugged an old t-shirt over her head and slid into a pair of jeans. This morning she didn’t even comment on the mess that Carrie forced them to live in. Waving as her best friend disappeared into the green flames Aimee dared herself a glance at the clock. Five minutes. They were really pushing it.
Aimee lover her work. She loved her patients; she loved the feeling of satisfaction that swelled in her chest when they showed small signs of improvement and she loved the time she got to spend with her mum. Aimee worked on the Spell Damage floor where improvement in patients was something you only noticed if you saw them everyday. Anything from as simple as remembering a colour was important to Aimee. It was through her job that she learnt that small things were just as important, that time could change things, and that you should never give up. In a way her patients helped her too. They made her a better person, they slowed her down from the race that was her life. They made her think. They made her notice the small things she wouldn’t. Aimee always looked forward to work, except in the mornings when she was perfectly comfortable snuggled under her covers. Like today for instance.
Stepping into the fireplace Aimee hoped that they had her coffee order ready before she was whisked away into another world. Or more rightly, another home.
Welcome to St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Exiting the fireplace she waved a hand to Lucy before a bumbling trainee stepped forward and offered her a take-away cup from the tray he held in his opposing hand. Taking it from him she erased the smile from her face, a note of seriousness stealing into her eyes. She opened the lid and sniffed. Aimee turned to the younger boy; his eyes were wide, wanting to impress. It was with great difficulty that the next sentence escaped her lips with no trace of a smile, or slip of a laugh.
“This is a triple shot espresso, no milk, no sugar, right?”
The boy nodded in reply and with a small nod in return Aimee was off. Turning her back to him, snatching up her clipboard and sliding her green robe on over her Muggle clothes. She met her best friend Carrie at the elevator. Taking the first sip of her coffee she smiled.
“I hate Monday mornings.”
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Carrie Martin
Junior Member
Healer
Pffft....you know I look damn sexy in my work uniform
Posts: 107
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Post by Carrie Martin on Aug 20, 2006 20:48:02 GMT -5
Carrie surveyed her patient list. She smiled, tracing her finger and stopping it at Mr. Henderson, who had a particularily bad case of the dragon pox which was not good for his age. At an austounding 93 years old, the man was still very active in his life, traveling the world and contracting every disease imaginable in the process. He was a regular patient at this point, and had asked Carrie to marry him seven times now. Last time he actually had a ring. Smiling faintly, her eyes flicked across the list again. Her eyes landed on Michael Mckormin, World's Best Father, in Carrie's opinion. He insisted that the staff let in his five year old daughter every day for a visit, always bribing Carrie to let little Susy stay just five more minutes. Her heart broke. Mr. Mckormin had been in the hospital for three months now, falling in and out of a coma due to an illness that had yet to be detected. One thing was for sure, his immune system was slowly crashing. How could she say no to him, when he asked for a favor like that? She was a sucker in that sense. Afterall, she had only been five when her father left her and her mother. He was a single father, and her heart broke every time she had to tell Susy to leave, and hoped Mr. Mckormin would be concious, or atleast alive, to see his princess the next day...A particularily tired voice pulled Carrie from her thoughts, just before she got to the sappy parts. Aimee. She smiled, tilting her head and hugging the clip board to her chest. "Good morning, sunshine." She smiled as her best friend approached, and she grabbed the coffee cup out of her hand, taking a quick sip for herself before handing it back. She pulled a face. No milk. No sugar. Esspresso. She wrinkled her nose in distaste and watched Aimee smiling. "Right, right, I know. It tastes better if you don't steal it." Carrie rolled her eyes, having heard Aimee's lecture one too many times before. But did that stop her from having a sip of the vile liquid every morning on the way up to work? Nope. Certainly Carrie deserved it, having paid for the majority of the flat they shared, and for the pillow-beatings she took every morning. Thankfully, she had escaped Aimee's morning wrath this morning, but there had been other instances, sometimes even involving flying alarm clocks, which was never fun. There was still the faint bruise just above her elbow where the last flying object that Aimee through in the morning had hit her. It was believed to be a shoe. "You up for The Bar after work? It'll be fuuuuuun..." She nudged her best friend with her hip, smiling hopefully. Carrie's brand of fun was contagious. She was wild and crazy, especially on Monday's after a long hard day at work. She never went without one of her friends though, solely for the reason that she needed someone to keep her grounded. Crazy Carrie, never knowing when to stop. She knew it was a nickname she had earned at many of the local bar's though no one said it to her face. Whatever. She knew how to have a good time, no matter what that meant. Watching Aimee contemplate this, her face fell. No, Aimee wouldn't come out with her tonight. She would have an odd family emergency or some other lame excuse like she did every day after work for the past five weeks. Ugh, she hated fives. Carrie's jaw locked in disappointment. It wasn't that Aimee had changed much, she was still the same roomate and best friend shehad always been, just always less availible and more secretive. Carrie didn't want to admit it to herself, but she knew deep down that Aimee was keeping something from her. She was always coming back at odd hours and blowing her friends off more than her job would require. Carrie, being the best friend, wasn't stupid. She knew it was a guy, she just didn't know who, or why Aimee was keeping him a secret. She would often remember the days when she and Aimee would squeal over the hot new interns, and drool over handsome doctors. Of course, that was a while ago, when they were both new to the business. Maybe Aimee had just...grown up. Something Carrie refused to do. Not full time, anyway. "Never mind. I'll get Lynne or Alyssa to come. But your coming to my Movie Madness day this week, right? You promised me before. It's Sunday, as usual." She didn't look at Aimee while she said this. Carrie was known for just relaxing at the flat and renting about a dozen movies and a mountain of takeout at least once a week. This week was Carrie's favorite muggle movies, The Godfather Parts I, II, and III. Carrie had seen all three atleast ten times in the past few weeks, she couldn't get enough of it. Not that Aimee would know that, though. Her best friend hadn't come to a Movie Madness session in about a month. Stop, Carrie. Common, lossen up. So she's busy? We work at a god damn hospital! We're always busy! Blinking a few times, she looked back up at Carrie, giving her a famous Martin smile. Her gaze was broken and interupted by a ding of the elevator arriving at the ground floor. Even though they were a magical institute, they still used muggle contraptions, just in case someone got in. Hense the reason Carrie's wand was hiding in her back pocket, out of sight. Stepping into the elevator and waiting for Aimee inside, she hit the button for the second floor, before holding the door for a second in case someone else needed to go up. [[ew...crap with extra bits of crapness. left the ending open for someone else to join.]]
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 21, 2006 7:27:04 GMT -5
[[-Pokes- Want me to reply or wait...]]
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Carrie Martin
Junior Member
Healer
Pffft....you know I look damn sexy in my work uniform
Posts: 107
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Post by Carrie Martin on Aug 21, 2006 8:22:59 GMT -5
-pokesback- please, feel free to postie, Emmy. doesn't think anyone is going to join -sigh-
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 21, 2006 9:33:53 GMT -5
Aimee had never been one to sympathise with those who lived on the streets. Walking down the road stretches on a chilly London morning she had watched her sister from an early age toss coins to the huddled figures. She called them the ‘less fortunate’ but Aimee had a different view. Everyone was born the same, regardless of their place in the world. People expected too many things from life itself, were never grateful for just the moments that they had, the air they breathed, the food they ate. Aimee had known people who had started from rock bottom to only work their asses off and get everything that was coming to them; success.
There was however, one thing that made her walk slower as she past them, head straight but eyes wandering, examining them form a distance. Addiction.
Addiction was a sin. No one could say otherwise. It was addiction and lack of self-control that had driven people to the streets, their last coins traded for a quick fix, a liquid, powdered or tablet form friend. It was addiction that spoiled homes, drove good men out the door, leaving in their wake devastation, torment and tragedy. Memories that scared their children, scars that couldn’t be removed. It was addiction that screamed in you head, drained all other thoughts dry until it was the only thing that remained, pounding, pumping. Addiction killed people, mentally, emotionally, physically. Aimee had seen the results, she worked in a hospital for Gods sakes. Aimee had stared in the face of death too many times to count; she’d smelt the fear on people as they faced what appeared to be their last moments. She’d seen the look in their eye, magnified a thousand times over. Aimee could recognise death and for that, she hoped when her time came, she’d realise.
However, her knowledge had failed her before. Addiction. There were three things in life that she could be considered addicted to. The first; her work. She went past what was required; exhausted her hours at the hospital and even when asked to leave struggled. She lived and breathed that hospital. It was everything. The second was her illegal man. Okay, so she wasn’t addicted exactly but sometimes he sure felt like a bloody drug. Or a bus running her over. And lastly; her coffee.
She simply could not function without caffeine. That precious, precious caffeine that had nursed her through painful mornings and exam stress. That precious caffeine that she had the poor trainee get for her every single morning. That precious caffeine that Carrie was stealing.
Again.
But what else could you really expect from best friends?
Aimee grinned and snatched up her cup once again, breathing in the heavenly smells, the rich aromas. She could hear the tone Carrie was using, she noticed the voice drop and swirl, from the bright violent voice she knew to something softer, hesitant, disappointed. It was unfamiliar. Aimee quirked a brow at her best friend.
“You’re on for The Bar. I need a night out with my favourite girl.”
Her voice rose and her smile bloomed. It was the truth but even to her own ears it sounded like she was filling space. Making her voice more joyous so she didn’t notice the lack of it in Carrie’s. She knew she’d been distant, sometimes sneaky and well, not entirely truthful concerning a certain area in her life but it wasn’t life she could. Apart from the fact it was a secret she never wanted to look into her best friends eyes and see disappointment, particularly when it reflected back on her.
The ding of the elevator broke the silence between them and Aimee followed Carrie inside. She took a sip from her coffee and tried to act like this was normal, that nothing had changed and that there wasn’t a giant secret sitting like an elephant between them.
Lying sucked.
[Crap. Crap. Crap. C-R-A-P. -Bows-]
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Post by Darcy Peters on Aug 21, 2006 9:48:20 GMT -5
Okay.....STOP! My turn.
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 21, 2006 9:53:17 GMT -5
-Grins- I knew you couldn't resist.
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Post by Darcy Peters on Aug 21, 2006 21:37:31 GMT -5
[[Yay recycled post-fillers!]]
Would it be so wrong to just lie in bed all day with ones memories, leaving all your work and responsibilities to those around you; to just loose yourself to the dreams and plain thoughts those normal days seem to whip away? For if you were to essentially let yourself go and lie there all day, imagine the things you would discover by just giving your mind time to wander with thoughts. Maybe that is how things are thought of and then later invented; the creator just lied in their bed for a day or so and let the magnificent thoughts come to him instead of wasting his time and energy by going in pursuit after those very same thoughts. Maybe if you were to laze in bed for just a few hours more every individual day, the world would be improved. In theory, it would be. If people took that time to lounge in bed longer each day, there would be less fatigued people to be cross at the government, less people who were miserable because they didn’t know themselves well enough, and maybe even more thoughts on how to make the world even better.
Yes, to lie in bed longer each day was to gain indispensable knowledge. So it was truly saddening that others wouldn’t give people the chance to gain that understanding of themselves or that knowledge there really was to gain. Well, in every utopia there ended up being those people who made it come crashing down. However, in failing utopias the people that did bring it down usually did so because of their pure person; they just couldn’t help it. In the utopia that was being created in his mind, nonetheless, was crumbling because of the idiocy and insensibleness of the people around him. Groaning, he rolled over and muttered something along the lines of “Go da f’ck awa’!”
Much to his surprise, he was not being awoken because of something annoying, but something rather pleasurable. Carrie was practically sitting on top of him, in underwear and a tee no doubt. Didn’t he have a dream like this once? No, couldn’t of been; is most of his dreams, she honestly was wearing an item or two less. He felt his body tense as he felt her warm breath tickling his ear and her lips oh so close.
”Wake! Up!”
With that she jumped of his bed –much to his disappointment- and stopped in the doorframe of the room he shared with Ben. Rolling back over, he caught a glimpse of the clock he had next to his bed; 5:12. Shit, they were going to be late again. Somebody was not going to be happy at work today. Jumping out of bed, he rolled Ben out of his bed and against the wall before running out the door, or rather, running into Carrie at his door. Where was Aimee? There, across the flat still in her bedroom. Late, they were late. Bathroom. He had to get to the bathroom, and apparently his three roommates were having the exact same thoughts. Sprinting towards the only bathroom on the flat, hot an Carrie’s heals, he slammed into the bathroom door a moment later. As Carrie opened the door, both of them jammed into the doorframe, unable to move any farther.
"Common Darcy! Please! Just once I'd like the toilet seat to be down, and have some hot water to shower in! Please! Oh common! Ladies first!"
Groaning, he let the blonde slip past him and into the room. Damn him and his gentlemanly ways. Leaning against the door, he risked a glance at the clock down the hall. 5:15. Did she really have to take a shower? But, surprisingly, she opened the door with a dramatic sigh and let her three flat mates in. Rushing into the bathroom with Aimee and Ben right behind him, he lunged for one of the two sinks and squirted his toothpaste onto his bright orange toothbrush. Dropping the tube into Ben’s hand, he grabbed a comb and ran it through his hair quickly. With a soft sigh, he rinsed his mouth and dashed out after Carrie.
"We're going to have to Floo over! See you guys in five, cus' that's all you got!"
“Shit.”
Diving onto his floor, he searched under his bed for shoes, pants, and a shirt. Finding all three, he pulled them on and snatched a piece of last night’s turkey and jammed it into his mouth. He then walked –slowly I might add- to the fireplace, taking a handful of floo powder on the way. He really did hate the stuff. Stumbling out of the St. Mungo's fireplace, he coughed a few time and smiled at the nurse tapping her foot before him.
“Late, Peters.”
“No really?” he shot out sarcastically. Taking a breath, he looked around for a small boy. “Now, where is that damn Trainee with my coffee? If I’m going to floo over here, the least you can get me is a blasted coffee!”
Winking at the nurse, he put on a very fake angry face for the trainee with his coffee and what looked like Aimee’s as well. Nodding, he walked into the lounge with coffee in hand, picked his coat and other things out of his locker, and headed for the elevator. Seeing Aimee –how did she get ahead of him- and Carrie already there, he quickened his pace and took the spot next to Aimee. With a grin, he pushed the ‘4’ button and looked back at two of his best friends.
“What’s this I hear about the bar?”
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 22, 2006 2:51:55 GMT -5
This is Carrie's post:
Carrie was used to people lettering her down, which is why she was astounded when Aimee said she was up for the bar. She felt her mouth hang open for a second, and she closed it, knowing she looked like a cod fish. She didn't bother to hide her surprise. Aimee knew that Carrie had been missing her, that Aimee had been scarce. Was this Aimee's way of telling her things would be back to normal? Well, what was normal? Twelve sick patients and a bar all in one day? Getting drunk until the tea lights danced before your eyes, making you believe that you were in a fantasy world far away from decisions and dying people? Yeah, that was normal. Except lately, normal had been a Carrie-Ben-Darcy-fest. With no Aimee around to keep her grounded, Carrie had turned to the male species, particularily her flatmates. Lately, she had been drinking with Ben or out to dinner with Darcy. Just the other night she had attempted to cook them both dinner at the flat, only ending up burning the chicken until it was not edible, and ordering take out instead. It had been one of the most fun nights in the past months, truth be told.
She looked up, smiling at Aimee. This would be a nice change of scenary. Even though she enjoyed the boy's company, she missed her best friend, and she didn't know how long she could take the constant flirting-wars between Ben and Darcy. They were two totally different people. First there was Ben. Benny Boy. The only guy who could match her party lifestyle and sarcastic style of humor, and serious sense of work ethic. Ben was rugged, handsome, and had a competitive drive in him that frankly turned Carrie on. She found herself trying to control her heart rate when she was alone with Ben. But then...there was Darcy. Adorable, sweet gentlemanly Darling Darcy, who wanted to whisk Carrie off her feet. Darcy was like the more romantic side of the fairytale, but he also had a slight edge to him. He was so...complex that it made Carrie's head spin. Many would say he wasn't as outgoing as Ben, but Carrie knew that he was, he was just more careful. Like Aimee, he kept Carrie grounded, sane. She really connected with Darcy sometimes, and when she did, she was so amazed at what an amazing guy he was....if only there was some way to combine these two guys into one Super Dude.
Feeling a pout forming on her lips at this thought, she looked back up to Aimee who was raising her eyebrow quizzically. She smirked, raising her own eyebrow back. Maybe tonight would be the time to tell Aimee abuot all this, and maybe even get Aimee to spill her own beans. It was a slim chance, but a chance none the less.
"I smell body shots..."
She smirked, winking at Aimee. When the two girls had first started working at St. Mungo's, the bar was their favorite hang out. They practically made it what it was. They had once had guys lining up to take shots off their stomachs and buy them drinks. It was in Carrie's nature to be wild and crazy. Her fun was contagious, which was turning out to be an excellent thing in her life. Aimee and Carrie were a dynamic duo in that bar. But their best performance, so to speak? A few months back, the nurses had gone on strike. It became so tense, that there was almost a Nurses v. Healers in the bar. Not pretty. Leave it to Carrie and Aimee to liven to mood and break the tension by a round of tequilas for all. Yes, it was time to reunite the duo in their natural habitat. She was just about to let the elevator door slide close behind them when Darcy slipped in with them. Her smile grew. She always like spending time with Darcy. He pressed four and she pouted. It was a shame that the little time their little circle of friends had together was in an elevator. Pressing the two right after him, she leaned against the wall, blowing a blonde curl out of her face.
"You think you can keep up with us, Darling Darcy? We're hitting The Bar after work...join us if you dare."
She smirked, casting a devilish glance at him. Maybe they would get Ben to come along and they would have a flatmates night out. Her body hummed with anticipation, and she felt she could practically howl at the moon. It was no secret what a night owl Carrie was. She eyed Aimee with the same mischevious grin and raised her eyebrows. Her playful antics ended however when the elevator lurched into motion. She swallowed, trying to maintain some level of control. Very few people knew the fact that Carrie was claustrophobic. In fact, in present company, only Aimee knew from when Carrie had accidentally locked herself in her closet. 1... The elevator started climbing. First stop, floor numero two...2... but the elevator didn't stop. 3...4...5... It climbed all the way to the last level before stopping. Five...she hated that number. She cast a panic glance in Aimee direction, wondering why it had gone up to the fifth level when no one had hit that button, and why the doors weren't opening. She was about to open her mouth to say something when the muggle contraption lurched again, dropping a bit before slamming still. The sudden stop sent Carrie's stomach to her throat and she stumbled forward, gripping the railing in the tiny room for support. The lights flickered on and off, and she resisted the urge to scream as a deeper panic set in.
As far as Carrie was concerned, elevators only got stuck in the movies. Never for real. Her breathing quickened and she grasped the railing even harder, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, the walls were closing in on her. She let out a little whimper and exhaled slowly, trying to control her breathing, pacing a bit, making the elevator seem even more crowded.
"I think...I think...oh this is bad...Aimee, help?"
The panic in her voice was eminate now, and she risked a look to her best friends face for support. Groaning in frustration, she sunk against the wall and put her head in her palms, silently counting in her head. One one thousand...two one thousand.... She calmed a little bit, but she still had the under lying fear and destruction of a person suffering from claustrophobia...Damn fives.
[[meh, needed a plot line for the thread before everyone left the elevator. so there you go. dramatic enough for you?]]
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 22, 2006 3:01:29 GMT -5
Oooh. This will be good. I'll post later. And then we wate for Luck, yesyes? -Grins- I heart drama.
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Post by Darcy Peters on Aug 22, 2006 7:52:02 GMT -5
POST NOW POST NOW! -dies- I have the perfect idea! -shifty eyes- Darcy is a caring dude, it would only be for to let me flirt! POST POST POST POST POST!!!!!
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Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 22, 2006 7:54:38 GMT -5
Naturally that's the plan. -Snickers- -Grins- Will start a post sooon lovely. Am just finishing econs notes for tomorrow. -Meeps- -Pokes- Tell me your idea.
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Post by Darcy Peters on Aug 22, 2006 7:56:52 GMT -5
Econ my ass. Post damn you! -twitch- -dies- Sorry. -cough- But I have an idea....Darcy....Carrie....floor....touching.... -snickerfit-
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