[Ice -- OA nods, guiding the newcomer through the safehouse and into the room where the medical supplies are stored. The cool, clinical space always instills in her a sort of psychic chill. Bad enough being down here under the ground, worse still to be surrounded by the trappings of the medical profession, however little it resembles that with which she's familiar.
The company's cute goes deftly ignored, but the comment about showing off, about the work she'd put in, earns an inquisitive glance. OA's gaze flicks over the stranger's features in search of... what? Dishonesty? Perhaps. The possibility doesn't put her off, exactly -- none of the newcomers have any reason to trust anyone already here -- but it is intriguing. OA likes to know where she stands.
Her expression remains impassive, but the scrutiny isn't subtle, even if it is brief. Best to let others know where they stand too. That's only fair.]
It's okay. I want to help. It's why I come back here. We're all... adjusting, learning new rules, new ways of living. No one of us can do everything at once. We're stronger if we stick together.
[She rifles through a few drawers, hunting down suitable supplies -- elegant little butterfly closures for the split lip, finer and more effective than those to which she's accustomed, and one of the equally remarkable instant ice packs, antiseptic wipes -- before turning back to her new charge.]
Have you done something like this before, then? Traveled?
[A beat before she adds, for context:]
This isn't my first encounter with the impossible either.
[Though it had never been like this. Never this extensive. She's troubled by it, troubled that this stranger isn't troubled. Troubled by a lot of things, truth be told.
Another moment's hesitation passes before she extends her hand to offer her companion the supplies she's collected.]
Sorry, I should have-- I'm the OA. Or... just 'OA'; that's what most people call me. Do you need any help cleaning that?
no subject
The company's cute goes deftly ignored, but the comment about showing off, about the work she'd put in, earns an inquisitive glance. OA's gaze flicks over the stranger's features in search of... what? Dishonesty? Perhaps. The possibility doesn't put her off, exactly -- none of the newcomers have any reason to trust anyone already here -- but it is intriguing. OA likes to know where she stands.
Her expression remains impassive, but the scrutiny isn't subtle, even if it is brief. Best to let others know where they stand too. That's only fair.]
It's okay. I want to help. It's why I come back here. We're all... adjusting, learning new rules, new ways of living. No one of us can do everything at once. We're stronger if we stick together.
[She rifles through a few drawers, hunting down suitable supplies -- elegant little butterfly closures for the split lip, finer and more effective than those to which she's accustomed, and one of the equally remarkable instant ice packs, antiseptic wipes -- before turning back to her new charge.]
Have you done something like this before, then? Traveled?
[A beat before she adds, for context:]
This isn't my first encounter with the impossible either.
[Though it had never been like this. Never this extensive. She's troubled by it, troubled that this stranger isn't troubled. Troubled by a lot of things, truth be told.
Another moment's hesitation passes before she extends her hand to offer her companion the supplies she's collected.]
Sorry, I should have-- I'm the OA. Or... just 'OA'; that's what most people call me. Do you need any help cleaning that?