The computer analyzed as quickly as it could. Her entire body was out of balance, it was having to do a much more thorough sorting than normal; but finally her blood was analyzed and the chemicals that her cells reacted to were found. Armand sprinted across his laboratory, searching through compounds, stem cells, solutions, all sorts of vials before returning to the desk, assuring by note that he had the correct things. He finally returned with the new injection, though her wrist was once again healed. He apologized to her in his head before bringing the knife on her again, tearing the skin open and inserting the needle into her bloodstream the best he could, pinning her as he needed. "Calm down. You're not dying. You aren't." He put a shaky hand firmly on her forehead, pressing his thumb between her eyebrows and looking her directly in the eyes.
Rowan was terrified. Armand had come back with another needle, sliced her wrist back open and pinned her down so she couldn't squirm away. It hurt like hell. She was freaking out, the few tears she could muster ran down her face. Once Armand was finished he had placed his thumb right between her eyebrows, forcing eye contact.
"Calm down. You're not dying. You aren't." He assured her. Rowan was shaking violently. She was covered in blood, sweat, and tears; absolutely miserable. Her wrist had already healed again. She weakly touched the fading wound with vague curiosity.
(@SincereBeastie are you okay? Lol)
(I am I just haven't had so much fun writing in forever! It's so intense and cool and.. yeah!)
(Same omg this rp is actually one of the best I've done! It's so much fun!)
Armand pushed off of her, standing back and trying to catch his breath, smoothing his hair and finding a towel to wipe his face. "Damn it.." he shoved a cart, the contents on top clattering harshly to the floor. He felt sick.
"W-Water?" Rowan croaked hopefully, her shallow breathing easing slowly back to normal. Before anything else she wanted water. Then maybe Armand would let her use a prison shower or something. Anything to get the blood off her. The bed sheets weren't faring much better.
Armand nodded, leaving the room, closing the door best he could. He needed to scream. He did so, beating his fists against the wall, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum. Afterwards, he shook himself, calming his breathing and bringing her a water, sitting shakily on the edge of her bed, the water trembling in its cup.
Rowan took the glass gingerly, almost as shaky as Armand, herself. She drank it quickly, her eyes watering as the cool liquid made her dry throat burn. "Thanks." She mumbled, still very shaken by the situation she was just in.
He didn't answer. Wrapped up in his thoughts conflicting against one another in his head all at once, he was having the hardest time clearing his head. He looked at her arm, the sheets on the bed. "When you can walk, come with me. You need to get cleaned up." He stood, pulling a mop to the room and cleaning it quickly with bleach water, before beginning to strip the bed.
Rowan nodded, standing so Armand could clean. She took a few unstable steps forward, her legs wobbly like a newborn fawn. After pacing back and forth for a few minutes using the wall for support, she was able to move on her own. "I think I'm okay." She looked over at Armand.
"Right then. Let's go." He balled the fabric up into one neat little bundle, and waited for her to move out the door in front of him, nodding for her to do so. He would stop by the laundry on their way to the showers, and he didn't bother to restrain her, feeling no need to. He was becoming careless, and would decide to walk beside her, watching her for need of support. "I should apologize." he said softly.
"Not your fault. You didn't know that would happen." Rowan said gruffly, gripping onto Armand's shoulder for support as she stumbled forward. "Was kinda scary though." She sighed, sniffing a little. I am not crying again. She scolded herself.
"I wouldn't say you were 'kind of' scared, Rowan." He'd felt that fear before. He braced himself as Rowan gripped his shoulder. He wasn't strong but he could help her walk. He paused for a moment to drop off the soiled sheets and resumed to her side, leading her down the long, clean-cut hallways. "You thought I was going to kill you." His voice held no emotion, though he was re-affirming that what she felt was natural, and okay. "As a doctor, those kinds of mistakes are regrettable at best."
"I'm sorry." She replied quietly. "I know you'd never hurt me on purpose." She continued, a frown on her face. "I just… that knife thing freaked me out." Rowan traced the thin white line on her wrist from where the cut had healed.
"I know," Armand said simply. "I'm still your enemy Rowan." He felt no need to explain. He didn't need her getting close. They rounded the corner and approached an open tile doorway, leading like a maze into a designated shower area. "Take this," he said, pushing a towel into her hands, and pointing into the area. "I will wait for you here. If you run into anyone, tell them that you are with me."
Rowan nodded quietly, unsure of how to respond. "I don't think you're as bad as you say you are." She stated, taking the towel out of his hands and disappearing into the showers before he could respond. Rowan was more than happy to be clean again. She stepped out of the shower with the towel wrapped around her small frame. "Hey Armand?" She called out. "Got any clothes you can toss in here for me?"
They would have to see about that. He waited, switching from one foot to the other when he thought about it. He'd wished for no allegiance, though not to rebel, however, there seemed no in-between and Armand owed his life to Harrison in the meantime. His logical brain told him it was the only thing that made sense, he couldn't bring down everything the person who'd saved him had worked for. He wanted to push her in the right direction but she was distant, and he could no longer influence her tyranny. He'd hoped that using the Empathy punishment he could show her that things had gone too far.
"You can use one of these robes," He said, pulling a towel from a wall of folded white ones, and tossing it to her.
Rowan grabbed the robe and put it one. She felt a thousand times better, but also a bit vulnerable at the moment. She used the other towel to wrap her hair and walked out, her feet making unpleasant squelching noises on the tiled floor. "Alright let's go back before Yuki and Petree worry too much." She said, looking at Armand. The robe was big on her, stopping just below her ankles. "I'm slightly shorter than I remember." She muttered, narrowing her eyes and glaring at the robe playfully.
He had to smile a little. She seemed to know his sense of humor well and he enjoyed her innocent play. It was unfortunate for him, but he still chuckled a bit, she looked like.. well almost like a child in the large robe. She'd been so quick to forgive his mistake. He began walking back alongside her. "Are you feeling better?" he asked.
(Sorry! I went to walk my dog!)
"Well I'm not dead… so yeah. I'd say a lot better." Rowan shrugged. "Little awkward without any clothes though. These floors better be as clean as they look." She grumbled, glaring at the shiny tile under her feet.
"Of course they are. I'd settle for nothing less." When they returned to his office, he went through some bins to find scrubs in a size similar to hers, tossing them to her. "Well there, some clothes." He turned back to his desk, back to her, looking over notes and how the now destabilized solution would affect her condition. It wasn't having any negative effects right now, but he wasn't sure what would happen now. He began comparing notes for a few minutes, turning things over in his head.
Rowan got changed into the scrubs, happy to be covered up. She turned back to Armand to see him, brows furrowed, pouring over notes. "I don't suppose what you're looking at is very fun. Looks like you're planning a funeral." Rowan teased, waking over to him and peeking at his notes. The words were all written in scrawl Rowan could hardly read.
"You're chemically imbalanced now." He said, scrawling things out some more, returning to his notes, comparing, scribbling again. "Solutions are called so because they are balanced. I had to remove an ingredient of the solution to help you, and now you no longer have a stable solution in your system." He didn't know if she'd understand, but it didn't matter to try to explain it any better. He was going to have to figure out how to fix this problem, somehow.
