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"High fashion...", Lucas repeats to himself, smiling a bit. This Nathan Fischer was an interesting character, to say the least. A lot of aspects about his lifestyle and appearance seemed to contrast against his own. Earlier, on his way out of the man's room, he had witnessed a suit-clad figure arrive at Nathan's hospital room with a large leather rucksack, presumably containing his belongings. It was usually family that would bring personal items to patients, but the stranger definitely did not scream "family". "Yes man" was the first word to come to mind. He was very curious indeed. 

That nagging feeling of curiosity would have to wait though, the man next to him was looking absolutely terrible. Lucas couldn't help but frown, even as Nathan cracked a joke and tried to shrug him off. Stubborn bastard, you're really in no state to be on your own. In his mind he was running through all his medical knowledge, speculating on what might be wrong with the other male. He could hear the tremor in his voice, eyes focusing on each individual rivulet of sweat on his forehead. The prognosis wasn't good, if Nathan kept up like this. 

He was a bit troubled, and the ice he consumed earlier definitely was making his usually hectic train of thoughts even more rapid. All his senses seemed to be kicking into hyper realism.

"Men's room's down there", Lucas says, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Down to the vending machine and swing lef—", he couldn't finish his sentence though, quickly noticing as his companion lost all strength in his legs. Lucas was quick to be by his side again, catching him from the front. His arms under Nathan's armpits, he lifted him to his feet again. Lucas felt his nose prickle and before he knew it there was a perfect red stain on Nathan's shoulder. Shit. Not again. He thought that he had been good to go again. Obviously not though. Wiping under his nose, he quickly moved Nathan's arm over his shoulder so that he could walk the man to the washroom, his bloodied hand shoved into his coat pocket.

"Listen, I know you're some big-shot tough guy, but just let me walk you to the washroom", he said quietly as they trudged down the hallway.

"You're feeling a bit off. Wash your face, you'll feel better. Promise".

Silence. 

"And uh, about the nosebleed. I'll wash the shirt for you. Or buy you a new one", he bit out. 



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Lucas Odierno