#bvhqchat

WHERE: The Broom Room

How he was supposed to wake up every morning and go about his day as if the Johnson farm massacre never happened was beyond Gui. It certainly was not his first experience with the undead, but spirits were far less terrifying than… Zombies. The thought kept him unsettled. The very idea that it had happened once and could happen again almost made him sick. But he would, for all intents and purposes, pretend like he was not bothered. Just like he always did. Guillaume sat at his table- the one in the corner of The Broom Room- with his cards and his crystals, and the perpetual whisper in his ear. There were no appointments as his business was barely legitimate, so he relied on word of mouth and the brazen nature of curious people. “Come in, come in.” He’d usher a patron once he’d heard soft steps gather from the other side of the curtain. “I won’t bite. But don’t let Violette catch you lurking. She does.”

Who: Anyone.

Bennett allowed his hands to hang comfortably in the loose pockets of his white lab coat, the fabric near the back of his thighs moving with the breeze that was created as he walked. He gave a friendly nod and momentarily smile to every person he passed by, both colleagues and patients, feeling completely in his element while in his place of work. It was in his blood to be a caregiver, ultimately — he had a line of practitioners in his family and so, despite his years of dedication and hard work, the skills he had acquired came to him with a sense of naturalism. Some days, not that he would admit it, but it felt as though he was operating on pure instinct — adrenaline and endorphins taking over so much that he felt as though he was moving fluidly and without much thought. It was completely mechanical, his hands knowing exactly what to do even in times when things were going completely off the rails.

“Doctor Delaney, there’s somebody in the waiting room asking for you.” One of the people at the front desk called to him as he leaned on the counter, interrupting his casual conversation with one of the working nurses on the other side of the desk. With a friendly nod, Bennett finished up his conversation and moved toward the elevators, taking the next few floors to ponder curiously about who could be wanting his attention.

And in a matter of steps, he would find out.

“You were asking for me?” He asked, eyebrows raising as he stepped into the waiting room, the chairs flooded with people waiting to be seen or heard or helped.

WHERE: The Broom Room

Caitlyn had never been one to use guns. That was always Sarah’s forte, and she was a bad shot. She couldn’t hit a bull’s ass with a bass fiddle on a regular day. Though the wolf persona was more in tune with reality it wasn’t very sure how to work the instrument either. After an innocent fell down to the side of her, ribs exposed she quickly picked up the shiny metallic thing and aimed it towards the zombie that neared.

Except she froze and felt her heart break in place. Wolf or Human it didn’t matter when it came to her aunt. Dead when she failed to defeat Tiber for the alpha position, yet there she stood inches away slowly closing the distance. Caitlyn’s vision blurred as the wall of tears gathered and her hold on the gun started to tremble.

“Auntie.. you’re..you’re dead.” The mangled corpse let out some inaudible grunting noise. She knew she wasn’t alone near the silo, but her feet were planted in spot.

“Help. I can’t do it.” She whispered hoping someone was just an ear away.

Who: Anyone else who’s stuck there.

Zombies. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. As if we really needed more undead freaks in this town. These were Sawyer’s first immediate thoughts as he found himself backed into the field with a group of other bystanders. His hand had easily found the gun tucked into his waistband, the hunter knowing better than to leave his place without it. Always be prepared, he figured, even in the event that one of the supernatural freaks he so often wanted to kill stepped out of line just a tad too far. He had always been pretty good at deciphering whether or not someone was one of them, but now with the invasion of the undead, Sawyer hardly had to think twice about what was going on.

“Go, run, get down somewhere low. If this is a prank, someone’s getting marked whether they like it or not.” The man told the person standing next to him, not particularly concerned with keeping them calm as he lifted his gun. He was glad his aim had always been perfect, the practice drilled into him from the moment he could hold a gun without the help of his father — and, in moments like these, target practice was going to be a big heap of fun.

Who: Everybody and then some.

The last thing that Meredith wanted to do was sit around with a bunch of community members she didn’t particularly know, trying to gather moral for the town in times of despair when (admittedly) she felt as though her life was going down the toilet. It wasn’t, at the end of the day — she still had a wonderful job and a roof over her head, food in her belly as well, but her relationship was trashed and for the time being that was enough for the woman to consider alcoholism as a permanent profession. It was with a heavy heart that the woman would walk onto the grass in front of her, breaking the barrier of contact between her and the event she had been invited too.

It was a plan to meet a couple of her friends but, alas, she had come alone and would have to go on the hunt for them at her own accord. Bitches, Meredith thought in a rather sarcastic way, knowing that the only one deserving of the word right now was her. Getting caught in her own tangled web of thoughts, the woman didn’t realize that she had run directly into another person, side swiping them with her vigorous walking.

“Oh, Christ. I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.” She spoke out loud, allowing her hands to find the person on their arms so that they wouldn’t completely wipe out. “Got stuck in my own head. My eyes froze over.” The woman allowed a soft smile to land on her lips, hoping that the person she had just plowed down wouldn’t rip her head off for her less than exhuberant exterior.