[ ☆ ] starter call. for max, @cauifield
click. it’s been a week, & that goddamn sound still drives her up the wall. more so than even the first day of hospital staff or police officers all RUSHING IN, hooking up IVs, offering her food, shoving forms in her face, & asking her questions. SO MANY QUESTIONS. it’s died down since then, but every hour at least, a nurse comes in. & just like every time before, that door clicks again. it’s grating. rachel’s tired eyes flick to the clock on the wall. 4:17. almost enough for her to make a joke, were it the good ol’ days. [ were the days ever really good ? ] it’s not time for a nurse.
‘ well, well. if it isn’t arcadia bay’s hero, ’ rachel says with a click of her tongue as she looks toward the door. sure enough, it’s no nurse. though, she’d hardly call MAX CAULFIELD’S face a familiar one. not yet. her words are raspy from too many months spent quiet. despite that, & despite the dark circles & colourless lips she sports, rachel continues, ‘ that’s what everyone keeps saying, anyway. don’t suppose that means you’ve got a get out of jail free card on you ? i feel like i’m rotting in this bed. ’
