Underground Nightingale

Sadly, all good things have to come to an end, and like Artie predicted, Barlow wasn't thrilled that they prescribed her nurse with a few pills that would 'assist in her efficiency'. Instead of lecturing them directly, She had decided to burden them with Mitzi's medical review. She was sure that they would be delighted to listen to the facility's little ray of sunshine.

"I know ya must be so busy, Art..." Her tone was apologetic as she took her seat across from him. It was hard to say if Mitzi felt bad for bothering Artie, or that she came into their office empty-handed. Maybe a bit of both. "I appreciate the five minutes outta your day for lil old me."

She then produced her own file, which much to Artie's surprise, Mitzi had filled out most, if not everything Barlow requested of them. Admittedly, it wasn't too hard to mimic the doctors' handwriting. To Mitzi, they all wrote with a hasty, messy hand. She was just lacking a signature, which she wasn't foolish enough to try and replicate.

"The meds have been real nice. They're makin me a little woozy, but I ain't hearin' her as much. Goodness, even when I start to think 'bout..."

For a split second, Mitzi froze when she caught herself beginning to yap and admit that she started to have questions about the therapy. Thankfully before Art could pry, she opted for a more harmless admission. She'd rather get perscribed another medication than get terminated. Or worse.

"How it's real funny for my stockin's to feel on fire when I think about gals too much." She let out a small giggle, shaking her head. "Anywho, I know my lady issues ain't for those precious ears. I just need a signature and I'll be on my way."

//She's baaaack. I'm so sorry lol

Peace and quiet could only last for so long in this place. They adjust their tie as Mitzi made herself comfortable in the chair across from their desk. They take the prescription quietly in their hands as she yaps on, only to dart their eyes up towards her when she giggles.

“. . . What makes you think my ears are too precious for lady issues?” They ask, setting the prescription down, not signing it just yet.

Mitzi's giggles settled into a small sigh as she rested her head atop her hand. She had expected Artie to sign away without so much of a second thought, especially Mitzi fudged the rest of the form on their behalf. On paper, she presented herself as someone where minimal health symptoms or concerns were present. Mitzi only noted that Liliya's interruptions were minor and she didn't feel compelled to act on them. Mostly. She even pushed the review date as far back as reasonably possible. Mitzi might have liked being in Artie's office, but she knew Artie liked being alone even more.

"Emily is insistin' I keep on those little helpers. It's not like they're gettin' in the way of my rounds, and she's appreciatin' the peace and quiet." Her voice had a hint of defence in it. Clearly needing a prescription so soon had given her a chip of insecurity. "But I think the roster is gettin' shuffled real soon. Should be nice see some new faces. Hopefully they ain't gonna be too nippy or loud on the ears."

"They were right about you bein' a peach. Everyone has been sayin' that you hear all kinds of things. I bet you would know a good secret or two."

A part of her was worried that Artie also knew that Mitzi just had the tendency to dote a bit too much on her patients. Sometimes she's too slow in her treatment because she's concerned about pain, or maybe she's handed over her rations to a PA since she didn't want to prescribe a Bennie on an empty stomach. At least Easterman was still oblivious , and as far as Mitzi was concerned, what that old coot didn't know, couldn't hurt him.

This however, wasn't about unwarranted sweetness. This was something, much, much more serious. Mitzi instinctively reached for her cigarettes, yet caught herself as Artie didn't smoke. She wasn't one to test the friendship.

"I don't want you thinkin' I need to be strapped to a chair or nothin', but sometimes when I'm with Liliya... I can hear her in my head. Talkin' about the good book."

Mitzi paused, almost seemingly having to think about what facial expressions she wanted to use. She didn't need to turn on the bubbles right now, but it wasn't safe to look terrified, was it? Seemingly, she settled on concern. Concern looked... Healthy.

"I don't like it, Artie... It's like feelin' a constant itch I can't get at. I know that's unladylike of me, but she ain't natural..."

- 💉

Artie hums thoughtfully at her worries, seemingly unworried themself.

“I’ve heard of that happening with the reagents and a few of the medical personal.” They start, “Her whispers and all. We usually sedate her during checkups to avoid anyone from following her suggestions. My advice to you would be to start wearing earplugs. Or make sure she’s sedated.”

Artie reaches over to inspect one of the snacks on their desk, then notices her reach for the box of cigarettes in her apron. Artie sighs and pulls out a lighter from their pocket and offer it to her. It’s true they don’t smoke, but plenty of their co-workers and patients do.

“Whoever is allowing you to work on Liliya without the proper rundown needs to be written up. Not only is it dangerous but a threat to the entire facility if something were to happen…”

Artie’s seen the reports from Mount Massive. They know what that Prime Asset was capable of. Sometimes they wish they could tell Easterman he was a fool for having Liliya here.

Instability was one of those things that ran in Mitzi's family, and by gosh, she was too young to be getting an icepick in her tear duct, or up her nose, or wherever else it was meant to go. She much rathered performing that surgery than being on the receiving end of it.

Her thoughts began to drift further and further away before she saw the sleekness of Artie's lighter, which snapped her back to reality with a polite shake of her head. They were being kind enough to let Mitzi take refuge here and listen to her talk. Sure, she had given them the majority of her snacks, but maybe they'd pay it back later. What mattered was she wasn't going to stink up their office on their second or third conversation.

"No, no, you put that away, silly. I know ya ain't too fond of the smell. Not to mention, they don't make strong lungs at the doll hospital 'ere. Gotta keep you in tip-top."

Whilst she was polite enough to hold back, that didn't stop her fidgeting with the box.

"But, back to business. She ain't tellin' me to do things. Not yet. She's just preachin', but I wouldn't complain if someone else could listen to her sermen..."

She trailed off, knowing damn well that Emily was in charge of her roster, not Artie. Still, it never hurts to ask the nicer superior every once in awhile.

They listen quietly, now opening one of the snacks to munch on while she talked. Only when Mitzi trailed off did they speak.

“…I remember the first time they brought her to my office. I thought I had finally lost it.” They chuckle quietly, a rare sign of what little humanity they still had, “It’s like a song, do you know what Sirens are? They sing to sailors of their desires in an attempt to have their ships sink on jagged rocks, then they eat them.”

Mitzi admited with a laugh as if they were two friends having lunch, rather than a nurse and a doctor that was going to get their ear talked off until they helped. Her concerns aside, she was one of the few PA nurses that still expressed a genuine worry and care towards the Prime Assets. Although she shouldn't be encouraging smoking - or aiding her patients in doing so - it really was an itty bitty thing that kept everyone comfortable and happy during treatment.

"But you're forgettin' that I ain't your patient, Artie. My comfort ain't worth any more than yours."

With her free hand, Mitzi pushed their lighter closer towards them. It was for the best that the temptation would be out of sight and out of mind for now. She had willingly handed over her lunch rations for the next few days, only leaving her with her cigarettes to remedy those pockets of hunger. Maybe she could use the god awful coffee machine to trick her stomach further.

"If ya could do somethin' about the rosterin or give me a little dose to muffle out her voice, that would be real sweet of you. Thanks, love!"

She smiled as she rose to her feet. Within her allotted five minutes, Mitzi had gotten what she wanted. Of course she would have loved to stay and chat, but she knew not overstay her welcome. She had a funny feeling that Artie prefered their own company when they could get it. Maybe some day that would change, but that was at least several favours away.

"But I meant what I said about talkin' a break. We don't want ya gettin' all cloudy minded and keelin' over from stress."

"You say Toe-mah-toe, I say Toe-Mae-Toe, Artie." As she was at the door, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Not sardonically, but genuinely. They would be seeing her around more often, whether they liked it or not.

"Either way, I don't see someone old enough for wrinkles, and ya best not feel things to encourage 'em."

With that, the nurse slid out of his office, leaving Artie alone with the sound of tapping heels on tiles and a small mountain of snacks.

There were talks of reassigning her to the reagents. She was pleasant enough on the eyes and talkative. Maybe they'd have an easier time trusting her and letting things slip. Perhaps that could be explored.

"Good mornin', doctor." Her voice was as chirpy and peppy as ever. Either she liked her apron being covered in several kinds of viscera, or she was doing her darnest to ignore it. "I got those files you been requestin' annnnd a coffee. Black with a couple sugars alright with you?"

- @undergroundnightingale

S, all things considered, was still new.

He'd only been here for a year, maybe two. It was odd though, despite being here only for a short amount of time: There were things that everybody knew about him. One, He was one of the only people (If not the only person) who was truly here by choice. Everyone else? Sure, some people applied but quickly learned that they would never - ever - be allowed to leave. Others? Woke up in a unfamiliar building and would never have the option to leave.

Her colleagues were cold and her patients were unpredictable at the best of times. It was a lonely existence, but Mitzi didn't outright curse it. No, this was a blessing in it's own way. Not every small-town, no-name nurse could say they were handpicked by Murkoff.

What did stop her in her tracks was the brief flicker of jealousy that overcame her when she scanned his office. The bookcase and the desk could manage with a bit of a tidy, but it was so much grander than the nurses' quarters. Mitzi had been issued a much simpler, sterile eviroment that allowed little room for personal affects. Asides from her med kit and uniforms, she only really had space for her diary, a small doll and a modest amount of cosmetics. She was especially curious about all those monitors! Barlow and her superiors had been keeping her in the dark about what the 'therapy' consisted of. Mitzi's job was to treat and not question.

She almost found herself wanting to ask S if he felt that the therapy was too harsh on the reagents,. Thankfully she caught her tongue before the words could tumble out and result in an immediate lecture. Instead, she padded back towards where she came, however turned towards S before she left completely.

"Remember to stretch your legs at some point today." She chirped, "Ain't good bein' in the dark and cold."

... And Easterman.

Everything was worth it if she could avoid the doctor.

"Goodness, me! Are you the one that bopped the officer over the head? I think I heard some chatterin' about you." As Mitzi was sanitizing her tweezers and preparing for Reynolds' examination, she had to admit he really wasn't what she was expecting. Sure, she wasn't 100% certain on what happened during 'therapy', but with the little briefing she had, she thought the reagents were just as terrifying as the ex-pop or PA population. Instead of a monster, there was someone seemingly pleasant in her chair. He looked just like someone she would have exchanged pleasantries with above-ground.

In that moment, she made the split decision to treat this examination as she would if they were above-ground. It wasn't her business to scold, it was her business to put Reynolds' health in tip-top shape.

"Just the other day I had to pick glass outta-" Thankfully Mitzi stopped herself before she continued that thought with a shake of her head. "Sorry, sorry! Where are my manners? My name is Mitzi and if it's alright with you, I'll be doin' your check-up today."

“Officer? What are you talking about? I have’t attacked any of the guards- wait…oh, you mean Coyle, I punched him, didn’t bop him over the head.” He smiled a small bit at her. He knew a lot of the people here were just trying to survive like him, so he was rather polite to most staff he encountered, plus he always liked doctors and nurses, given that he wanted to be a nurse only a couple years ago. 

He looked like an average guy, medium-long brown-reddish hair with hazel eyes, and scars littering his body, some very old and some very recent. The night goggles that were drilled into his head were covered and stained in old blood. “And it’s alright with me, Mitzi, I don’t exactly have a choice,” He pointed out, knowing both of them didn’t really have a choice. He was a little surprised when he got dragged in here; he didn’t think that reagents got check-ups, but he clearly misunderstood how much Murkoff cared. Maybe he was in trouble for something, and this was how they punished him for it. But he disregarded that thought; she didn’t exactly scream psycho doctor yet. “I’m Mark Reynolds, most people just call me Reynolds though,” he mentioned, as he did his best to relax in the chair. He watched her sanitize her tweezers, trying to think about whether there was some hidden purpose behind this interaction or not, even though he knew he should trust the Murkoff Corporation…Though, a part of him was sure that was the therapy talking and not what he should actually be thinking.

He watched her curiously examine the googles. Must be her first reagent patient...damn, she's really new then. He thought to himself as she murmured and asked herself questions about why they were drilled into his head. He noticed how she didn't hurry through his care like the other doctors, treating him as quickly as possible so they could move on to the next one. Plus, she was so gentle, treating him with a gentle care he hadn't had in a long time...He made a face sometimes when she wiped against certain wounds that were still slightly fresh, but he never said anything or asked her to stop; he could handle the pain after all. He had some clear healing cuts and stab wounds on his arms, thanks to a certain religious psycho. He thought to himself some certain words to describe that prime asset as she cleaned his wounds. But that's what I get for not using the X-ray rig. You get stabbed a bunch of times. He criticized himself internally as it continued.

Mitzi returned that smile as she stepped back to shuffle through her drawers. She knew there was an ointment, or cold cream, or something she could use to minimise those scars on his arms. They couldn't have him out and about like that when he went above ground. Maybe it would be okay if he worked in a field hospital though? Oh, but what if he worked with cherubs or the old biddies? They get so wishy washy on things like that.

Thankfully, she was turned away from him as her lip began to twitch. Why did Mark have such nasty wounding on his arms? She figured they roughhoused in therapy, but surely they wouldn't outright cut - or God forbid, stab him? Right? Inflicting that level of pain felt like the antithesis of what Mitzi thought Murkoff was trying to do. Goodness, she really ought to be taking the tablets Artie perscribed her. If they were good enough to muffle certain religious sermens, they'd be perfect in muffling her more unproductive thoughts.

At least she did find those ointments and rolls of bandages she needed before she spaced out entirely. Even better, she was able to face him with a smile like none of those nasty thoughts ever happenend!

"You seem like a real peach n'a half." Mitzi commented rubbing her concoction into Mark's scars and wounds. "Bet it ain't many sleeps until they give you the keys to your new life."

When it came to bandaging, Mitzi was even more careful than she was when she was just cleaning him. Between studying Mark's face for signs of discomfort, she was moving his arms around to make sure the bandages wouldn't slip off. She had to be a little firm, but it still wasn't rushed. Mitzi was committed to inflicting minimal pain.

When she was finally done, she took an open pride in her work. Sure, it may not have been ladylike, but Mitzi was pleased as punch with how she dressed those wounds.

"You're lookin' as pretty as a magnolia in May!" Mitzi beamed, happily clapping her hands together. "Suppose now comes the reward for bein' such a good patient."

Above ground, this may have meant that Mitzi would have sent Mark away with a sweet treat and a kinder word. Sadly, they were both in the underground facility that was Sinyala. With a guard outside the door and Mark tied to a wheelchair, there had to be some adjustments made. Luckily for him, Mitzi had a damn good sense of smell and loose opinions when it came to some vices. She leaned in so she could whisper in Mark's ear as she pushed a couple of cigarettes into his pocket.

"Forgive me for not havin' a sucker for you, but I got a feelin' these should suffice."

Once the cigarettes were safety tucked away, she pulled with a wink that wouldn't be caught on the cameras. At least not today. Maybe with some luck, she'd get a he opportunity to treat Mark again. A gal could only hope.

"They were right about you bein' a peach. Everyone has been sayin' that you hear all kinds of things. I bet you would know a good secret or two."

A part of her was worried that Artie also knew that Mitzi just had the tendency to dote a bit too much on her patients. Sometimes she's too slow in her treatment because she's concerned about pain, or maybe she's handed over her rations to a PA since she didn't want to prescribe a Bennie on an empty stomach. At least Easterman was still oblivious , and as far as Mitzi was concerned, what that old coot didn't know, couldn't hurt him.

This however, wasn't about unwarranted sweetness. This was something, much, much more serious. Mitzi instinctively reached for her cigarettes, yet caught herself as Artie didn't smoke. She wasn't one to test the friendship.

"I don't want you thinkin' I need to be strapped to a chair or nothin', but sometimes when I'm with Liliya... I can hear her in my head. Talkin' about the good book."

Mitzi paused, almost seemingly having to think about what facial expressions she wanted to use. She didn't need to turn on the bubbles right now, but it wasn't safe to look terrified, was it? Seemingly, she settled on concern. Concern looked... Healthy.

"I don't like it, Artie... It's like feelin' a constant itch I can't get at. I know that's unladylike of me, but she ain't natural..."

- 💉

Artie hums thoughtfully at her worries, seemingly unworried themself.

“I’ve heard of that happening with the reagents and a few of the medical personal.” They start, “Her whispers and all. We usually sedate her during checkups to avoid anyone from following her suggestions. My advice to you would be to start wearing earplugs. Or make sure she’s sedated.”

Artie reaches over to inspect one of the snacks on their desk, then notices her reach for the box of cigarettes in her apron. Artie sighs and pulls out a lighter from their pocket and offer it to her. It’s true they don’t smoke, but plenty of their co-workers and patients do.

“Whoever is allowing you to work on Liliya without the proper rundown needs to be written up. Not only is it dangerous but a threat to the entire facility if something were to happen…”

Artie’s seen the reports from Mount Massive. They know what that Prime Asset was capable of. Sometimes they wish they could tell Easterman he was a fool for having Liliya here.

Instability was one of those things that ran in Mitzi's family, and by gosh, she was too young to be getting an icepick in her tear duct, or up her nose, or wherever else it was meant to go. She much rathered performing that surgery than being on the receiving end of it.

Her thoughts began to drift further and further away before she saw the sleekness of Artie's lighter, which snapped her back to reality with a polite shake of her head. They were being kind enough to let Mitzi take refuge here and listen to her talk. Sure, she had given them the majority of her snacks, but maybe they'd pay it back later. What mattered was she wasn't going to stink up their office on their second or third conversation.

"No, no, you put that away, silly. I know ya ain't too fond of the smell. Not to mention, they don't make strong lungs at the doll hospital 'ere. Gotta keep you in tip-top."

Whilst she was polite enough to hold back, that didn't stop her fidgeting with the box.

"But, back to business. She ain't tellin' me to do things. Not yet. She's just preachin', but I wouldn't complain if someone else could listen to her sermen..."

She trailed off, knowing damn well that Emily was in charge of her roster, not Artie. Still, it never hurts to ask the nicer superior every once in awhile.

They listen quietly, now opening one of the snacks to munch on while she talked. Only when Mitzi trailed off did they speak.

“…I remember the first time they brought her to my office. I thought I had finally lost it.” They chuckle quietly, a rare sign of what little humanity they still had, “It’s like a song, do you know what Sirens are? They sing to sailors of their desires in an attempt to have their ships sink on jagged rocks, then they eat them.”

Mitzi admited with a laugh as if they were two friends having lunch, rather than a nurse and a doctor that was going to get their ear talked off until they helped. Her concerns aside, she was one of the few PA nurses that still expressed a genuine worry and care towards the Prime Assets. Although she shouldn't be encouraging smoking - or aiding her patients in doing so - it really was an itty bitty thing that kept everyone comfortable and happy during treatment.

"But you're forgettin' that I ain't your patient, Artie. My comfort ain't worth any more than yours."

With her free hand, Mitzi pushed their lighter closer towards them. It was for the best that the temptation would be out of sight and out of mind for now. She had willingly handed over her lunch rations for the next few days, only leaving her with her cigarettes to remedy those pockets of hunger. Maybe she could use the god awful coffee machine to trick her stomach further.

"If ya could do somethin' about the rosterin or give me a little dose to muffle out her voice, that would be real sweet of you. Thanks, love!"

She smiled as she rose to her feet. Within her allotted five minutes, Mitzi had gotten what she wanted. Of course she would have loved to stay and chat, but she knew not overstay her welcome. She had a funny feeling that Artie prefered their own company when they could get it. Maybe some day that would change, but that was at least several favours away.

"But I meant what I said about talkin' a break. We don't want ya gettin' all cloudy minded and keelin' over from stress."

"You say Toe-mah-toe, I say Toe-Mae-Toe, Artie." As she was at the door, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Not sardonically, but genuinely. They would be seeing her around more often, whether they liked it or not.

"Either way, I don't see someone old enough for wrinkles, and ya best not feel things to encourage 'em."

With that, the nurse slid out of his office, leaving Artie alone with the sound of tapping heels on tiles and a small mountain of snacks.

... And Easterman.

Everything was worth it if she could avoid the doctor.

"Goodness, me! Are you the one that bopped the officer over the head? I think I heard some chatterin' about you." As Mitzi was sanitizing her tweezers and preparing for Reynolds' examination, she had to admit he really wasn't what she was expecting. Sure, she wasn't 100% certain on what happened during 'therapy', but with the little briefing she had, she thought the reagents were just as terrifying as the ex-pop or PA population. Instead of a monster, there was someone seemingly pleasant in her chair. He looked just like someone she would have exchanged pleasantries with above-ground.

In that moment, she made the split decision to treat this examination as she would if they were above-ground. It wasn't her business to scold, it was her business to put Reynolds' health in tip-top shape.

"Just the other day I had to pick glass outta-" Thankfully Mitzi stopped herself before she continued that thought with a shake of her head. "Sorry, sorry! Where are my manners? My name is Mitzi and if it's alright with you, I'll be doin' your check-up today."

“Officer? What are you talking about? I have’t attacked any of the guards- wait…oh, you mean Coyle, I punched him, didn’t bop him over the head.” He smiled a small bit at her. He knew a lot of the people here were just trying to survive like him, so he was rather polite to most staff he encountered, plus he always liked doctors and nurses, given that he wanted to be a nurse only a couple years ago. 

He looked like an average guy, medium-long brown-reddish hair with hazel eyes, and scars littering his body, some very old and some very recent. The night goggles that were drilled into his head were covered and stained in old blood. “And it’s alright with me, Mitzi, I don’t exactly have a choice,” He pointed out, knowing both of them didn’t really have a choice. He was a little surprised when he got dragged in here; he didn’t think that reagents got check-ups, but he clearly misunderstood how much Murkoff cared. Maybe he was in trouble for something, and this was how they punished him for it. But he disregarded that thought; she didn’t exactly scream psycho doctor yet. “I’m Mark Reynolds, most people just call me Reynolds though,” he mentioned, as he did his best to relax in the chair. He watched her sanitize her tweezers, trying to think about whether there was some hidden purpose behind this interaction or not, even though he knew he should trust the Murkoff Corporation…Though, a part of him was sure that was the therapy talking and not what he should actually be thinking.

Despite Mitzi's chirpy tone, there was a brief second where she was pouting as she looked up at him from her tools. She wasn't completely naive and knew immediately that he didn't trust her. All that wrigglyness gave it away! She wasn't scary, was she? Or maybe the other medic before her didn't have the best bedside manner. Either way, she would do her darnest to change that.

"I read that you were a boxer above ground. You must have a real hard head." Mitzi chucked as she opted for an antiseptic wipe instead. She would need to clean away all that gunk and blood before starting her examination. "What I like the most 'bout what I read, is that you ain't a biter. Y'know, I read somewhere that bitin' a finger is kinda like bitin' a carrot. Not that I mind vegetables."

That was a terrible joke, even for her standards. If they were above ground, maybe she'd have an easier time landing her jokes. Maybe she'd be so bold and ask what he actually did in therapy. With her free hand, she was about to push some of his hair out of the way before she suddenly stopped.

"Ain't no lump or bump that I can't patch up when I find 'em." She continued to chirp away as she began her examination. Unlike the nurses and doctors before her, none of her movements felt hurried. Her hands felt gentle and she gave warnings before she cleaned anything with her antiseptic wipe. Mitzi hadn't the faintest idea that her level of care was odd in a place like this. Getting the job done quickly, regardless of the discomfort level was something she just couldn't wrap her head around. Perhaps her main problem was that she still saw all her patients as human - non-disposable and irreplaceable.

When he asked her about what it was like to be a nurse, the question nearly flew right over her head. Her pout had returned as she fixated upon the bolt that was keeping Mark's night goggles secured into his head. What an odd procedure that was... She almost couldn't help herself but to move the goggles up and down to confirm they really were drilled into him.

"How are'ya supposed to..." She murmed, cleaning away all the dirt and coagulated blood around the neat little bolts beneath his hair. "Not to mention the migraines, and-"

Thankfully, for both their sakes, Mitzi managed to catch herself and nip those thoughts in the bud. Barlow and many of her seniors had told her time and time again that she wasn't paid to think. There were a dozen more things she could be doing instead of humouring an unproductive thought. Instead, she turned her attention elsewhere. Mark wasn't lacking wounds to clean.

"You could still be a nurse once ya finish therapy."

If it wasn't for Mitzi's smile and clueless nature, that almost could have been considered as a cruel joke.

"They were right about you bein' a peach. Everyone has been sayin' that you hear all kinds of things. I bet you would know a good secret or two."

A part of her was worried that Artie also knew that Mitzi just had the tendency to dote a bit too much on her patients. Sometimes she's too slow in her treatment because she's concerned about pain, or maybe she's handed over her rations to a PA since she didn't want to prescribe a Bennie on an empty stomach. At least Easterman was still oblivious , and as far as Mitzi was concerned, what that old coot didn't know, couldn't hurt him.

This however, wasn't about unwarranted sweetness. This was something, much, much more serious. Mitzi instinctively reached for her cigarettes, yet caught herself as Artie didn't smoke. She wasn't one to test the friendship.

"I don't want you thinkin' I need to be strapped to a chair or nothin', but sometimes when I'm with Liliya... I can hear her in my head. Talkin' about the good book."

Mitzi paused, almost seemingly having to think about what facial expressions she wanted to use. She didn't need to turn on the bubbles right now, but it wasn't safe to look terrified, was it? Seemingly, she settled on concern. Concern looked... Healthy.

"I don't like it, Artie... It's like feelin' a constant itch I can't get at. I know that's unladylike of me, but she ain't natural..."

- 💉

Artie hums thoughtfully at her worries, seemingly unworried themself.

“I’ve heard of that happening with the reagents and a few of the medical personal.” They start, “Her whispers and all. We usually sedate her during checkups to avoid anyone from following her suggestions. My advice to you would be to start wearing earplugs. Or make sure she’s sedated.”

Artie reaches over to inspect one of the snacks on their desk, then notices her reach for the box of cigarettes in her apron. Artie sighs and pulls out a lighter from their pocket and offer it to her. It’s true they don’t smoke, but plenty of their co-workers and patients do.

“Whoever is allowing you to work on Liliya without the proper rundown needs to be written up. Not only is it dangerous but a threat to the entire facility if something were to happen…”

Artie’s seen the reports from Mount Massive. They know what that Prime Asset was capable of. Sometimes they wish they could tell Easterman he was a fool for having Liliya here.

Instability was one of those things that ran in Mitzi's family, and by gosh, she was too young to be getting an icepick in her tear duct, or up her nose, or wherever else it was meant to go. She much rathered performing that surgery than being on the receiving end of it.

Her thoughts began to drift further and further away before she saw the sleekness of Artie's lighter, which snapped her back to reality with a polite shake of her head. They were being kind enough to let Mitzi take refuge here and listen to her talk. Sure, she had given them the majority of her snacks, but maybe they'd pay it back later. What mattered was she wasn't going to stink up their office on their second or third conversation.

"No, no, you put that away, silly. I know ya ain't too fond of the smell. Not to mention, they don't make strong lungs at the doll hospital 'ere. Gotta keep you in tip-top."

Whilst she was polite enough to hold back, that didn't stop her fidgeting with the box.

"But, back to business. She ain't tellin' me to do things. Not yet. She's just preachin', but I wouldn't complain if someone else could listen to her sermen..."

She trailed off, knowing damn well that Emily was in charge of her roster, not Artie. Still, it never hurts to ask the nicer superior every once in awhile.

They listen quietly, now opening one of the snacks to munch on while she talked. Only when Mitzi trailed off did they speak.

“…I remember the first time they brought her to my office. I thought I had finally lost it.” They chuckle quietly, a rare sign of what little humanity they still had, “It’s like a song, do you know what Sirens are? They sing to sailors of their desires in an attempt to have their ships sink on jagged rocks, then they eat them.”

Mitzi admited with a laugh as if they were two friends having lunch, rather than a nurse and a doctor that was going to get their ear talked off until they helped. Her concerns aside, she was one of the few PA nurses that still expressed a genuine worry and care towards the Prime Assets. Although she shouldn't be encouraging smoking - or aiding her patients in doing so - it really was an itty bitty thing that kept everyone comfortable and happy during treatment.

"But you're forgettin' that I ain't your patient, Artie. My comfort ain't worth any more than yours."

With her free hand, Mitzi pushed their lighter closer towards them. It was for the best that the temptation would be out of sight and out of mind for now. She had willingly handed over her lunch rations for the next few days, only leaving her with her cigarettes to remedy those pockets of hunger. Maybe she could use the god awful coffee machine to trick her stomach further.

"If ya could do somethin' about the rosterin or give me a little dose to muffle out her voice, that would be real sweet of you. Thanks, love!"

She smiled as she rose to her feet. Within her allotted five minutes, Mitzi had gotten what she wanted. Of course she would have loved to stay and chat, but she knew not overstay her welcome. She had a funny feeling that Artie prefered their own company when they could get it. Maybe some day that would change, but that was at least several favours away.

"But I meant what I said about talkin' a break. We don't want ya gettin' all cloudy minded and keelin' over from stress."

... And Easterman.

Everything was worth it if she could avoid the doctor.

"Goodness, me! Are you the one that bopped the officer over the head? I think I heard some chatterin' about you." As Mitzi was sanitizing her tweezers and preparing for Reynolds' examination, she had to admit he really wasn't what she was expecting. Sure, she wasn't 100% certain on what happened during 'therapy', but with the little briefing she had, she thought the reagents were just as terrifying as the ex-pop or PA population. Instead of a monster, there was someone seemingly pleasant in her chair. He looked just like someone she would have exchanged pleasantries with above-ground.

In that moment, she made the split decision to treat this examination as she would if they were above-ground. It wasn't her business to scold, it was her business to put Reynolds' health in tip-top shape.

"Just the other day I had to pick glass outta-" Thankfully Mitzi stopped herself before she continued that thought with a shake of her head. "Sorry, sorry! Where are my manners? My name is Mitzi and if it's alright with you, I'll be doin' your check-up today."

“Officer? What are you talking about? I have’t attacked any of the guards- wait…oh, you mean Coyle, I punched him, didn’t bop him over the head.” He smiled a small bit at her. He knew a lot of the people here were just trying to survive like him, so he was rather polite to most staff he encountered, plus he always liked doctors and nurses, given that he wanted to be a nurse only a couple years ago. 

He looked like an average guy, medium-long brown-reddish hair with hazel eyes, and scars littering his body, some very old and some very recent. The night goggles that were drilled into his head were covered and stained in old blood. “And it’s alright with me, Mitzi, I don’t exactly have a choice,” He pointed out, knowing both of them didn’t really have a choice. He was a little surprised when he got dragged in here; he didn’t think that reagents got check-ups, but he clearly misunderstood how much Murkoff cared. Maybe he was in trouble for something, and this was how they punished him for it. But he disregarded that thought; she didn’t exactly scream psycho doctor yet. “I’m Mark Reynolds, most people just call me Reynolds though,” he mentioned, as he did his best to relax in the chair. He watched her sanitize her tweezers, trying to think about whether there was some hidden purpose behind this interaction or not, even though he knew he should trust the Murkoff Corporation…Though, a part of him was sure that was the therapy talking and not what he should actually be thinking.

Despite Mitzi's chirpy tone, there was a brief second where she was pouting as she looked up at him from her tools. She wasn't completely naive and knew immediately that he didn't trust her. All that wrigglyness gave it away! She wasn't scary, was she? Or maybe the other medic before her didn't have the best bedside manner. Either way, she would do her darnest to change that.

"I read that you were a boxer above ground. You must have a real hard head." Mitzi chucked as she opted for an antiseptic wipe instead. She would need to clean away all that gunk and blood before starting her examination. "What I like the most 'bout what I read, is that you ain't a biter. Y'know, I read somewhere that bitin' a finger is kinda like bitin' a carrot. Not that I mind vegetables."

That was a terrible joke, even for her standards. If they were above ground, maybe she'd have an easier time landing her jokes. Maybe she'd be so bold and ask what he actually did in therapy. With her free hand, she was about to push some of his hair out of the way before she suddenly stopped.

"They were right about you bein' a peach. Everyone has been sayin' that you hear all kinds of things. I bet you would know a good secret or two."

A part of her was worried that Artie also knew that Mitzi just had the tendency to dote a bit too much on her patients. Sometimes she's too slow in her treatment because she's concerned about pain, or maybe she's handed over her rations to a PA since she didn't want to prescribe a Bennie on an empty stomach. At least Easterman was still oblivious , and as far as Mitzi was concerned, what that old coot didn't know, couldn't hurt him.

This however, wasn't about unwarranted sweetness. This was something, much, much more serious. Mitzi instinctively reached for her cigarettes, yet caught herself as Artie didn't smoke. She wasn't one to test the friendship.

"I don't want you thinkin' I need to be strapped to a chair or nothin', but sometimes when I'm with Liliya... I can hear her in my head. Talkin' about the good book."

Mitzi paused, almost seemingly having to think about what facial expressions she wanted to use. She didn't need to turn on the bubbles right now, but it wasn't safe to look terrified, was it? Seemingly, she settled on concern. Concern looked... Healthy.

"I don't like it, Artie... It's like feelin' a constant itch I can't get at. I know that's unladylike of me, but she ain't natural..."

- 💉

Artie hums thoughtfully at her worries, seemingly unworried themself.

“I’ve heard of that happening with the reagents and a few of the medical personal.” They start, “Her whispers and all. We usually sedate her during checkups to avoid anyone from following her suggestions. My advice to you would be to start wearing earplugs. Or make sure she’s sedated.”

Artie reaches over to inspect one of the snacks on their desk, then notices her reach for the box of cigarettes in her apron. Artie sighs and pulls out a lighter from their pocket and offer it to her. It’s true they don’t smoke, but plenty of their co-workers and patients do.

“Whoever is allowing you to work on Liliya without the proper rundown needs to be written up. Not only is it dangerous but a threat to the entire facility if something were to happen…”

Artie’s seen the reports from Mount Massive. They know what that Prime Asset was capable of. Sometimes they wish they could tell Easterman he was a fool for having Liliya here.

Instability was one of those things that ran in Mitzi's family, and by gosh, she was too young to be getting an icepick in her tear duct, or up her nose, or wherever else it was meant to go. She much rathered performing that surgery than being on the receiving end of it.

Her thoughts began to drift further and further away before she saw the sleekness of Artie's lighter, which snapped her back to reality with a polite shake of her head. They were being kind enough to let Mitzi take refuge here and listen to her talk. Sure, she had given them the majority of her snacks, but maybe they'd pay it back later. What mattered was she wasn't going to stink up their office on their second or third conversation.

"No, no, you put that away, silly. I know ya ain't too fond of the smell. Not to mention, they don't make strong lungs at the doll hospital 'ere. Gotta keep you in tip-top."

Whilst she was polite enough to hold back, that didn't stop her fidgeting with the box.

"But, back to business. She ain't tellin' me to do things. Not yet. She's just preachin', but I wouldn't complain if someone else could listen to her sermen..."

She trailed off, knowing damn well that Emily was in charge of her roster, not Artie. Still, it never hurts to ask the nicer superior every once in awhile.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.