2010-01-30: Purgatory Is A Place On Earth

Starring:

Claire_V4icon.pngHallis_V4icon.png

Date: January 30, 2010

Summary:

Noah's little angel is sent to rescue a lost soul from the void.


"Purgatory Is A Place On Earth"

Manhattan Psychiatric Hospital

The common room is painted a very soothing shade of gray, soothing and dismal. The round tables hold enough room for six to sit comfortably, but there are never more than four at each table. With the exception of one near the window which has but a single occupant. Dressed in the usual wear of hospital gown, a tiny woman of about twenty years sits in front of a plate of mystery food. Like the walls, it is a shade of gray, presumably it's oatmeal or some other kind of palatable mush. Regardless, it hasn't been touched. Neither has the little paper cup of pills sitting next to it.

With her head hung down, Hallis looks very much like a blonde version of Samara from the movie 'The Ring,' it might be one of the reasons why the other inmates in the facility keep as far away from her as possible. She doesn't talk, she never threatens, she just has this look about her that isn't quite right and makes people edgy. One thing you don't want in a psychiatric hospital is edgy inmates, so the nurses and orderlies don't force them to keep her company.

How does Claire Bennet make her way into a sanitarium? There are some things that the world is probably better off not knowing. Like how very well the blonde can lie when the situation calls for it. Noah must be so incredibly proud.

She makes her way in, in guise of a relation, and then promptly sets herself down in front of Hallis once she's been pointed in the right direction by an orderly. She tugs a little at her plaid peacoat, and then takes off her beret. By contrast to the blonde in front of her, Claire's easy-going casual fashion looks downright couture. "Hi, Hallis." Wow. This… is /so incredibly awkward./ There's an inward sigh as the Bennet girl thinks absently about how Angela had better have known what she was doing.

Raising her head, Hallis' blue eyes peer at the girl in front of her. "Who are you?" she manages, her words coming slow and in a little bit of a dreamy fashion. Even though the pills haven't been touched, it's possible that she's still feeling the effects of her previous dose. The blonde in the plaid peacoat looks something like a dream, although everything with a little bit of color in it looks quite surreal in her fog. "Are you here to take me away?" She's blonde like an angel, is she?

"Uhhh." It's an eloquent reply, isn't it?

Claire's hazel eyes dart from side to side, and then she smiles, visibly uncomfortable as she offers a sheepish shrug. "I… I don't know. Maybe? I mean, no. I mean… You're… not gonna, like, flip out and bite my ear off or something, right?" Not that the injury would be so bad, mind. There are just certain things that the rengenetor would rather the big broad world just not know. "My gr— Someone sent me to see you." There's a sigh, and then the young woman continues with her feet dancing nervously beneath the table. "And I don't know why, or what I'm supposed to say. So you're gonna just have to bear with me."

"No, I don't bite, it's unsanitary." Hallis says softly, at least she hasn't yet. A bonus is that none of the pills in the little paper cup look like a steroid, so there's no real chance of 'roid rage. She leans a little closer to the plaid 'angel' and lowers her voice. "I'm not supposed to be here, I need to leave, but they're keeping me here." Of course it's a story that most of the patients here would tell her, she's must more vibrant than any of them. Except for ol' Rosie in the corner who is in the middle of trying to paint the wall with some chocolate pudding. She then sits back in the chair and tucks her hair behind her ears, as though trying to look a little bit more human for her visitor.

"Why?" It's a legitimate question posed in a whisper, delivered to a woman sitting in a lunatic's asylum looking like a psychopath. And Claire knows better than to trust people normally, much less when they look like one.

Hallis' eyes flit around the room before she leans in to whisper a little more to the other blonde at the table. "I got hit by a semi truck when I was coming back to New York. The angel that came to get me said I'm in purgatory, but they won't let me out of here so I can do what I need to do to get to heaven." While normally she wouldn't stick to the story so closely, the shock from the accident combined with the steady influx of drugs has kept it in the forefront of her mind. "If I don't get out of here, I'll be stuck forever. I'll be stuck in the gray."

"You're not in purgatory," Claire replies simply, lips curling downwards into a frown as a mark of her disappointment. It's a let-down more than any real judgment. A world-weary sigh follows, heaving her breast. She thought she… She thought she could help. This is sounding like a complete waste of time. "Not unless I am, too." There's a pause, as though she's about to let Hallis take her place in the conversation again, but then she cuts back in. "And, before you say anything, I'm not."

Looking around the lunch room, Hallis nods just once and sighs deeply. "Okay." Just the tone and influx of the word makes it seem like Hallis is just a little disbelieving of Claire's last statement. "So… who sent you to see me?" Hopefully not someone from one of the magazines, there've been a few photographers trying to sneak in already but Claire isn't holding a camera of any kind, at least not out in the open. "Why are you here?"

"Because the person who told me I needed to see you. Said I needed to find you and take me with me," Claire finally relents to admit, the confession in a low voice. She sighs in resignation, and then her eyebrows lift upwards as she asks. "You like travelling?"

A surge of hope courses through the young socialite. "Oh.. Yes! Yes I do!" Her voice isn't exactly hushed and one of the orderlies perks up and looks in their direction, along with almost all of the inmates… aside from Rosie in the corner. For Hallis' part, she's actually excited at the prospect and she all but ignores the stares of the other people in the large common room. Then she leans in again and whispers conspiratorially, "Where are we going?"

Claire rears her head back. Angela? Wherever you are, if you're dreaming and foreseeing this conversation? YOU SUCK. This girl is weird and creepy and… and… and… ARGH.

There's another sigh. Bennet's still a teenager. She's allowed a disproportionate amount of sighing. "Haiti, I think." That was, hopefully, what her grandmother meant. "Look. If… If I give you a distraction, do you think you could make a break for it? Or do I need to come back with reinforcements? You're the one who knows how they handle disruptions."

Looking over at the door, Hallis shrugs. "Uhm… They usually handle disruptions with needles and special jackets." Claire really doesn't look like the type of girl who would appreciate either treatment and Hallis isn't the kind of girl that could handle the alone time. Her blonde eyebrows furrow in the middle and a small crease appears between her eyebrows. "If they think someone's escaping they lock all the doors. There's too many floors for me to run down and the elevator would stop. But I've seen other people get released on day passes?" If they really are in purgatory it might be possible to get there and back in a day, if not… well she wouldn't be in the country when the police come looking.

"How do you get one of those?" Claire asks quietly, her expression far more casual than it really should be for someone who is staging the breakout of one of the inma— Er, patients. As a sign of good will, to show her dedication to working this plan out, she begins unbuttoning her coat so that she can set it on the bench beside her.

Lifting a hand, Hallis rubs her forehead a little and scrunches her lips in concentration. "Uhm, I think we might have to arrange it with my doctor. When are we leaving? Maybe… maybe I can meet you at the airport or… I have to pack." She's not exactly the best planner in the world, something that might have landed her in here in the first place but she needs more clothing than a hospital gown when she leaves.

"You get the daypass, and I'll come and get you. Just… let me worry about that part." Reaching into the pocket of her shirt, a black fitted sweater with cargo-esque pockets on the sleeves, Claire pulls out a piece of paper. "Let's try to get this done in the next two weeks," she tells the other girl. "Here's my cell phone number. As soon as you get it figured out, give me a call. I'll be here. I promise. Clothes. Ride. Everything."

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