@notastreetguy
The flowers in his hand suddenly didn’t seem very appropriate, hiding them in his heated jacket as he takes in his surroundings. So this is a black market hospital. It looked like a hospital, but smaller scale. Almost like an elementary school with its multicolored linoleum squares and kid safe doors, dark blue paint bleeding through the attempt at painting it white, trying to make it seem more sterile, more professional.
He did not see himself in this position three years earlier. There was no turning back now however, stepping quietly into the room a man dressed in thankfully clean scrubs pointed him towards. “Hey Tyson, you awake?” Nick tries not to speak too loud, the steady beep of the others’ monitor reminding him underground or not, he was in a hospital, approaching his almost mortally injured colleague. Who’s going to most likely be tired, drugged up and asleep.
