#[ oxfords but rogue : alt. v. ]

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

@slicinggazelle

×

She followed her direction until she blended with the crowd, catching sight of the top of her head every now and again. An attendant looked over her direction a moment before disappearing, taking cue of the likely attention she was to receive in a few.

Gazelle’s difficulties were beyond her sight; she focused on occasional seering pain on her legs, and the bruises that littered her skin from the impact of the rubble during the explosion. Though most have subsided, several were notable, requiring treatment to hasten the process.

As estimated, Roxanne was promptly approached by a nurse, the right-hand no longer in her mind a moment as the was interviewed of pain level and previous allergies. A pill was provided, wrapped in commercial packaging, which was received though with a hint of doubt. She took it in, and was advised to ring for assistance should pain return in four hours.

Then, she was gone, her attention returning to the other as she felt the medicine do its work. “What are you here for?”

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

@slicinggazelle liked for a starter.

A muffled clinking of beads would be heard in increasing volume, ending in a quiet thud of several randomly-arranged, and patterned bracelets in front of Gazelle, Roxy taking the vacant seat beside her. She still had a bit of support as she walked, but the weeks in active recuperation had helped in healing, and it came with an unexpected acquaintance. Whether it was safe to say that they were friends was questionable, but she couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of trust, banking on what seemed to be her willingness to make... relatively less destructive choices.

"We're well past quota," she announced with a hint of joy in her voice, though spoke quietly enough to keep it between them. "How many more do you think we could do before the day ends?"

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

“Do not panic. Everything is alright” Gazelle stood off to the side of the medical area.- slicinggazelle [Hello again]

@slicinggazelle

It wasn’t like this infirmary was public—well, she hadn’t much intel on that so far—but as far as she can tell, one: it was powerful enough to revive those thought to be long gone. A mental note to identify who runs this place was long embedded in her mind, but she had to move at the right time.

Until then, healing. Recovery.

Two: it was private enough for patients to recuperate without their identities and solitude being made known—

Not private enough; Roxanne’s thoughts were promptly cut when a woman on sleek metal, standing at the side of the room, regarded her—

She’s never met Gazelle. The closest she had gotten to meet her was through the receiver that doomsday, Eggsy working through the underground party to destroy Valentine and his plans, his assistant along the way. Gazelle, Valentine’s right-hand, trained and skilled and loyal. Reported deceased through a dosing of a potent neurotoxin slashed through her skin.

And now, she’s here; regarded her as if they’re not on opposing parties. Who was to say Valentine’s corporation was but a minor dent in his fortune, the organization hosting the men with the golden circle marks being his next of kin? Who was to say she, like her, was only being tended to, waiting for the proper moment to ask for her debt of gratitude?

She considered to play; pretend she doesn’t know her. Perhaps she really doesn’t. Perhaps she could feign confusion, after the shock of the explosion kept her unconscious for so long, though gratefully mostly intact.

She turned to address the woman, only slightly troubled—at least, that’s what she tries to appear. “I hope so,” she answered back, adjusting from her seat. “What are you here for?”

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

@slicinggazelle | from here.

“Then… I assume you don’t mind doing this.” For her, however, she knew she missed her old life, but after learning of what Kingsman had become, it wasn’t worth going back to it. In fact, she was willing to believe that Eggsy was out there, too, going against the agency to fight for the common good. She was willing to believe it… even willing to find him and have him join them.

But not now; now, they had themselves to work with… and herself. Because while she really quite missed the way things were, that was long gone.

Fingers tinkered carefully on the bracelet they’ve managed to sneak out of the workshop room, with all the other soon-to-break equipment they’ve worked to smuggle out as well. By now, perhaps it was time to make peace with the past… which included her, of all people. “If I tell you who I was before, will you kill me?” There was a hint of jest in her tone, but also hesitance.

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

"Keep it. It looks better on you." - slicinggazelle

&. soft and sweet sentence starters.

@slicinggazelle

Huh. Roxy was only a moment taken aback by Gazelle’s words, her expression of but subtle pause, before her eyes wandered back to the jewellery around her. It was a growing success to use recreational time to make their gadgets, easily passing them off as ‘prototypes’ or ‘remembrances’, banking on sentimental value. Perhaps it was true, anyway. There is some sentimental value in returning to remnants of normalcy from before the explosion, but what the present offered didn’t seem too bad, either.

Fingers looped lightly around the necklace then, a dainty gold chain with a pendant. Obvious enough to be a gadget, hiding in plain sight. Soon enough, she had a bit of a smile on her face. “Thanks, Zelle,” Roxy returned, “we’ll still make another one anyway… perhaps silver, to match your undertones?” The need to make another one was true enough, but the latter was for the facilitator who passed by. It was likely they were still under the radar, but it didn’t hurt to be safe.

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

"Fighting?" Roxy repeated, feigning cluelessness. She didn't really expect an answer, nor did she expect the humanity that came from Gazelle. That much she understood, being the working sort- the need to have purpose, the want to be effective. The drive to make a difference.

She had half a mind to insist on what she used to do, but she had an inkling she may not be ready to say; after all, her history- at least with the records she'd seen- isn't the sort one boasts around. The need to gain her trust was there, even if just for the intel. And so she watched as Gazelle gazed at the evidence of her past, humming a little in response as she spoke her piece. "I'm not certain how I could help," Roxy admitted, "but surely you can try and ask to be given a role, while you're here."

She needed her there, anyway. Long enough for her to keep an eye on Gazelle, and long enough for her to contact Kingsman to take her into custody. "Maybe I could even accompany you in it."

There was a quiet that lasted for too long. At first it was for her to think; then it was after realizing she had taken longer than a normal person should. "I cannot say where I would go. I have always been good at getting things done, and fighting."

She sighed and looked at the cut on her arm. "I mostly would simply like something to be able to do- some purpose. My life has always been me going from one batch of work to another. At least up until now. Having to sit here and do nothing has been frustrating to say the least."

The jobs she'd done had been on different sides of the morality scale, but they had always given some feeling of moving forward. Staying in place had left her with nothing but her history; that had not been a fun path to go down.

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

Gazelle's response to the suggestion was equally sensible to her; after all, she hadn't the full details of the neurotoxin, and it was even a bit curious that the slimmest chance of survival still occurred. Perhaps she had something that slowed down the poison even by a split second, rendering her extremely lucky. Whatever it was, it piqued Roxy's interest, enough for her to feel a momentary urge to seek for what was left of Kingsman, or what it had come to be, which might be a difficult quest, granted that the hospital seemed devoid of the usual access to media—at least, she hadn't gotten around to seeking for it until now, anyway.

"Well," she began after she'd spoken, finally bringing themselves to a lovely display of cacti and succulents somewhere at the centre of the garden, slowing to a halt as she perused the showcase, "assuming you could leave, what would you want to do? Where would you go?"

"There is a chance of that working I suppose. The only issue would be if they did not get it all, then it would only be a matter of time before the toxin reacts again." That was the explanation the doctors had given her. It sounded correct at least.

Gazelle shrugged while she put her sleeve back. "The medication has been working. It is not as if I have anywhere else to go anyway." Her hope was to get something to do eventually. Sitting around was not something she had ever been good at.

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

The agent did set their pace, slow to keep poise, but quick enough to not be a nuisance against the other walking around and behind them. She nodded when she declined disclosure of her past, already knowing it anyway. For a moment, she wondered if the hospital knew of it, or if it was merely of hippocratic oath that she was spared, or if her confinement is quite like a loose prison, no longer providing her the chance to escape.

She looked at her with furrowed brows when she moved to raise her sleeve, perhaps a moment imagining the suffering that came with a chronic poison running through her veins; perhaps a lifetime punishment. “What about transfusion?” she inquired, looking about, quite pleased at the sight of the odd butterfly or so flitting amongst the foliage. “Risky, perhaps, to drain you plenty of your blood, but then promptly replaced.” Roxanne had an inkling that perhaps the toxin didn’t replicate, but she couldn’t be too sure. Perhaps she knew more than she was letting on.

It'd been some time since someone had looked so brightly at her. For once Gazelle found herself only able to nod in agreement. "They put a lot of work in the gardens here. There are plenty of colorful flowers to brighten up the walks."

Gazelle walked with her new acquaintance, letting the other set the walking pace. "I'm afraid you would not like my particulars." People usually didn't once they found out she had helped Valentine. "As for the neurotoxin, I do not think working on it would do much good." She rolled up her sleeve to show the off-colored cut on her arm. "It had spread through a good portion of my body by the time they found me. They tell me it's fast acting and lethal. I get a pill to help keep what's in my veins from doing any further damage."

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

The nurse was prompt in assistance: soon enough, a pair of kind arms had helped her rise from her bed, Roxy centred on the feel of her legs, wounds scraping some against the dressing, carrying her weight on the cold hospital floor, steps heavy and laboured for a few moments. She slipped on the offered footwear, and a silent thank you was returned. Then, they were alone again, the agent returning her focus to Gazelle, her mood just a tad brighter, partly for her ability to walk still with her, partly to play the part.

"Shall we?" Roxy was pensive a moment. "I could walk you to your room, if you'd like to rest. Else, maybe we could see the gardens?" She tried to be pleasant enough. And if she opted for either or, she would offer a new conversation on their way. "So what's the particularities of yours? Are they still working on trying to remove the neurotoxin? Nothing is impossible with the right tools."

Gazelle nodded in confirmation. "I doubt you will have to stay that long. My situation is rather particular." She was sure her past of helping Valentine was a reason so much effort had been put into keeping her there.

Her gaze glanced back at Roxy. It was strange to have such attention of someone she'd only just met. She didn't think the two had met before. People usually tried to kill her if they knew who she was.

"My room is just down the hall." They had put her on her own for safety reasons. It was understandable, but it was lonely. She hadn't expected she could be kept at a distance from others while still under constant watch. "I am sure we will be able to see each around the area."

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

“You’ve been here a year?”

Too long; even if she wouldn’t stay for the same period, it seemed too long. She was, for a moment, relieved if she would be spared an agonising duration; but then again, how long has she really been in here?

She looked at Gazelle, curious of her supposed honesty; perhaps she really didn’t know who she was. Roxanne adjusted from her seat, wiggling her toes slightly under the sheets in an attempt to keep them from sleeping.

Why does she feel so disoriented? She wasn’t really sure. It doesn’t feel like she’s been awake or aware of where she was and how much she’s been treated so far until today, and with the lack of information had felt, for a moment, lost. Eyes scanned the area again in its vastness, musing on how of all the places they could meet, it had been here.

Roxanne stretched a little, making a mental note to ask the nurses of her information, when she was a bit more sure; it’s only a matter of time, anyway. “I hope so. But I don’t recall how long I’ve been asked to stay.” She thought carefully of the next words; better secure than used against her. “Where do you usually stay? I think I could go and walk a little, rid of their sleep,” she remarked, already gesturing to a nurse to request for support.

"I was exposed to a neurotoxin. I would be dead if they had not gotten to me in time. It could not be removed, so I have to take a pill occasionally to keep it from reacting." Her hand moved to her arm. If she thought about it too much, she could feel a faint pulse around the wound.

Gazelle took a deep breath. It was sometimes hard to remember how much time it had been. "I believe it comes to over a year." She didn't really remember some of the first few months. Apparently the initial attack had been intense enough to overwhelm the mind entirely.

"You look like you will not be in recovery for as long as I have. That is something at least."

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

“Yes, what treatment are you on? What happened to you?”

Roxanne looked at Gazelle briefly before returning her gaze to her legs, no longer painful, but perhaps a bit questionably dull. She figured it to be inactivity for goodness knows how long; has she even asked for the day?

Then, her focus was back at her, eyes once more searching for any sort of recent medical attention, but decided to stick with the feigned innocence, holding her tongue from suggesting words that may deter her from figuring her existence in this place. Instead, she added one more inquiry, and waited for an answer, hands picking the loose fabric of the hospital bedding.

“How long have you been here?”

Gazelle stood back and let the medical staff do their things. She took a pill from one of the nurses, stiffing it into a pocket. It was remarkable how something as small as a pillbox could be such an effective prison.

The amputee had found a place to sit and recover. Everything almost felt normal by the time everything was settled. She glanced at Roxy, glad to see the treatment seemed to be working. At least the pain didn't seem to be there any longer.

"Do you mean the medical reason or something else?" It seemed like a fair clarification to request.

[rcxylancelct-mcrtcn]

“Right.” For now, she thought to believe that Gazelle had no ill intention. For now, she unclenched, scanning her for an indication of weakness; anything that can assure her that she’s not held captive. For a moment, she wondered if the colour glimpsed from her skin was a remnant of the neurotoxin, or just an illusion of light.

Nonetheless, Roxy shifted her attention to focus on her wounds; she felt the sting of the burns on her legs, despite the dressing, despite the supposed treatment. They were no longer as intense as when it happened, high-temperature flames scorching her skin as she rolled away for shelter, leaping from her location.

The woman looking over her didn’t help her to control the pain with just willpower, and so she relented, nodding at the offer. “Sure. It wasn’t painful earlier, but it is now,” she murmured, and hoped that in the presence of an attendant she would leave her alone. “Thanks,” she would follow should she decide to leave, reasoning credit where credit is due.

“Do not panic. Everything is alright” Gazelle stood off to the side of the medical area.- slicinggazelle [Hello again]

@slicinggazelle

It wasn’t like this infirmary was public—well, she hadn’t much intel on that so far—but as far as she can tell, one: it was powerful enough to revive those thought to be long gone. A mental note to identify who runs this place was long embedded in her mind, but she had to move at the right time.

Until then, healing. Recovery.

Two: it was private enough for patients to recuperate without their identities and solitude being made known—

Not private enough; Roxanne’s thoughts were promptly cut when a woman on sleek metal, standing at the side of the room, regarded her, as if she’d known her—

She’s never met Gazelle. The closest she had gotten to meet her was through the receiver that doomsday, Eggsy working through the underground party to destroy Valentine and his plans, his assistant along the way. Gazelle, Valentine’s right-hand, trained and skilled and loyal. Reported deceased through a dosing of a potent neurotoxin slashed through her skin.

And now, she’s here; regarded her as if they’re not on opposing parties. Who was to say Valentine’s corporation was but a minor dent in his fortune, Poppy being his next of kin? Who was to say she, like her, was only being tended to, waiting for the proper moment to ask for her debt of gratitude?

She considered to play; pretend she doesn’t know her. Perhaps she really doesn’t. Perhaps she could feign confusion, after the shock of the explosion kept her unconscious for so long, though gratefully mostly intact.

She turned to address the woman, only slightly troubled—at least, that’s what she tries to appear. “I hope so,” she answered back, adjusting from her seat. “What are you here for?”