4. Amber Hart, reprise
The hospital is busy, as such places almost always are. Sterile hallways and bustling medical personnel ignore Amber in equal measure as she heads through the short-term rooms, searching for Carlos's. While Amber can smell sickness all around her, intermingled with the sharpness of disinfectant, Carlos's room smells especially sweet with the odor of disease. It should be unpleasant, but... He smells like prey, a weak member of the herd who can't resist- A shake of the head clears the thoughts and she enters the room.
Carlos looks... he looks bad. He's sweating furiously in bed, dark hair plastered to his head and patchy beard glistening. He looks over at Amber as she enters, shivering. "H-hello..." Carlos croaks softly. "Come to- light up- the room?" He tries a flirtatious grin, but it looks a little ghoulish on his strained face.
"Light up the room, darken your doorstep, depends on perspective, I suppose." She lets herself in and closes the door behind herself, taking a seat at the bedside. "I have questions."
"What... what kind of... questions?" While he definitely isn't doing well, Amber can tell that Carlos is desperate to just talk to someone.
"About where you caught this. Who gave it to you." She pauses for dramatic effect. "Who's been drinking your blood."
"My... my what?" He tries to smile and laugh it off, but devolves into a violent shudder. "You've got some- ahhhh fuck it. Fine. I don't know his name. He always shows up-" Carlos closes his eyes for a long moment, grimacing, but eventually continues. "Shows up at parties. Like- fraternity parties, you know? He likes me, so I always go, just in case he shows up. What do you mean... gave it to me?"
"What you have now. Either he gave it to you, or you gave it to him, and either way, it's spreading around." She leans in, not sounding terribly sympathetic. "Whatever the two of you do, it's no business of mine. I'm just here to make sure no one else gets hurt." Carlos doesn't seem like a bad guy. Addicted, perhaps, but the thought that other people are getting hurt by his fun - nothing but the honest truth - ought to be enough to shake loose the full story.
"Ahhh... you're sure, huh?" He looks at Amber and reads his answer in her face well enough. "Fuck... you're not going to, like, hurt him, are you?"
"I don't think I could if I wanted to. Which I don't." Perhaps not as reassuring as a simple 'no' would have been, especially given that Amber had to consider her answer. She's certainly going to try not to get anyone hurt. Siveri might, though, if she can't deal with this on her own. No, her original answer is as honest as it gots - she's here to make sure no one else gets hurt. Including herself, for failing to resolve this.
Carlos doesn't seem reassured by her answer, but what, precisely, was he going to do about it? "I guess..." He starts hesitantly, and then the words just seem to pour out of him, like he's been waiting to say this for months. "It's just nice to- feel wanted. Like someone is looking for your face in the crowd, you know?" He even seems to gain some strength as he talks, getting into it and sitting up a little, though he still looks absolutely awful. "It started at Phi Omega Rho. I saw him with this blonde sorority chick, real cute, but... I mean, I can swing either way, but I'm usually more about the ladies. But this guy just... god. He's tall, chestnut hair, real wavy and a little short. He looked at me and I just... I just melted." He looks at Amber in something like embarrassment mixed with stubborn pride. "I still don't know his name, because I just... I didn't think to ask. I was busy. How can a person taste sweet? Like- not like sugar-" He's clearly about to drop hard into reminiscence unless forced back on track.
"I know exactly what you mean," Amber agrees. "My... friend," she has to struggle to use that word, and not something stronger, "is the same. He means the world to me. I'd do anything for him. Which is what you're doing, Carlos. Helping your friend. I'm sure you don't want him to hurt anyone else without knowing about it. He can't catch your sickness, but he can pass it on," she pulls his attention back to his own frail condition, before she gets too distracted herself. "When did you get sick?"
"Ah... Shit. A week ago. I saw him before... Week before. Phi Omega Rho again. They had that big Homecoming party, remember?" POR is notorious for their parties, and their... Questionable hazing practices and chemical interests. People at one of their ragers will be especially impaired, on average. "He likes the sorority girls. You know how they do the thing with those really short dresses? We did this thing one night and... Fuck, man. I hope he's okay." No thought about how he's the one ill in the hospital.
"He'll be fine. He can't catch it from you. I can't either," she can't help but show one of her fangs in a lopsided smile. "And yes, I know the thing they do with those dresses."
Carlos watches her lips and fang and even in his fever-ridden state, Amber can see him swallow in reflexive anticipation.
She smiles down at him sadly. Addict. Probably a dead addict. The fact that she's making them herself and enjoys the rush of power doesn't make it less sad to see the end result. "Thanks for your help. I hope you recover soon." She hopes so, but doesn't really believe it. Nothing she can do but stop it from spreading. She stands to excuse herself.
Carlos shifts forwards, holding out a hand to reach for her. "Wait- I know I'm sick but like- just once... Can't hurt, right?"
"Can't hurt me. Can hurt everyone else I touch. Goodnight, Carlos." She takes his hand and squeezes it, but lets go before he can think to grab her.
The (New) University Hospital
A gleaming edifice of heroic medicine pushing back the dread claws of the grim reaper for one more day of precious life- if the check clears, of course. The university hospital is labyrinthine, and often confuses new doctors and other visitors with its strangely sparse signage and twisting halls. Students at the university can pay a little extra on top of their exorbitant tuition fees to be insured by the hospital itself, and many do. In addition to actual healthcare facilities, there is a sizable research wing of the hospital.
Marie's hospital room doesn't smell of sweet sickness like Carlos did, and she's much more alert. A nurse slides out of the room, laughing at something she said right before Amber slips in. Marie is a slender waif, golden-haired and very pretty. Unlike Carlos she looks healthy, if a little pale, and her full lips quirk in a little curious smile at Amber's entrance. "Hi! I don't think I know you, sorry! I keep forgetting the names of sisters!" She says with a self-deprecating and coy little slide of her hair across one eye.
"I'm not one of your sisters. We met at my club." Amber slides down into the chair, crossing her legs and putting her hands on her knee, leaning slightly forward in a pose that demands Marie's complete attention. "You said some nasty words. I made you eat them." No one is allowed to just forget her. Fuck this bitch.
Marie looks perplexed at this information. "What, I don't-" recognition lights up her eyes. "Oh. You." She says dismissively. "What do you want?"
"I'm here," she leans in closer, voice dropping to a menacing whisper, "because you're already dead, Marie. And I'm considering saving your life."
"Wh-what?" She blinks several times, obviously thinking about calling the nurse, but too scared to set Amber off. "I didn't do anything!" She reflexively deflects, voice and lip trembling in fear.
"Tall guy. Chestnut hair, wavy and short. Got you sent here for... anemia." Amber quirks an eyebrow, making sure Marie is following along. "One of his other fucktoys is on death's door, two rooms down. Might be too late for him already."
"You- what?" She tries to play confused, but the sudden pale cast of her face and look of dawning, terrified realization speaks volumes. "I- you mean Luke? He doesn't have any-" She stops talking, clearly not intending to admit even that much.
"You might not know Carlos Jimenez, but Luke certainly knows him. Frequently." Amber sits up straight, uncrossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. "Now, if you're willing to quit being a hissy bitch for ten minutes, I'll tell you more. Can you do that, Marie?"
She thinks about it for several seconds. "Okay, fine." She finally huffs, obviously trying to cover her earlier fear.
'Well fine' isn't the satisfying sound of submission she'd like to hear, but Amber can push more later. Maybe when Marie isn't carrying the plague, and Amber can properly make her from a hissy bitch into her hissy bitch. "Luke is carrying a blood-born disease. When he sucks you off, you can catch it. Doesn't affect him, but it can kill you. Maybe you caught it. Maybe you didn't. Stay away from him for..." she checks her phone, as though she had something relevant on it, "...two weeks. And anyone else who wants to drink your blood."
Marie looks at Amber, fear still barely concealed in her eyes. "You're... you're like Luke, then?" She asks, voice trembling a little as she realizes just who she's been so bitchy with. "Why did you- who's Carlos?"
"Carlos is one of your classmates at university. One of Luke's repeat customers. I hope he'll recover, but I doubt it." She eyes Marie speculatively, and ignores the question about herself. The answer's rather obvious, in her opinion. "You don't look in nearly as bad shape. Maybe you haven't caught anything. Two weeks, hun. Then you'll either be so sick you can't get out of bed, or you'll know you're clean."
"I-" She bites her lip. "Okay." There's a pause before she manages to remember, or perhaps to force out, "Thank you."
Amber smiles at that, a pleasant, reassuring ray of sunshine in the dark cloud she's been casting over the room. "You're welcome." Everything is more pleasant when you get along with Amber.
"Where can I find him?" We usually meet at Phi Omega Rho on Saturdays, or he calls me if it's important.
"Give me his phone number." Ok.
"Who else does he sleep with?" Lots of people, I don't know. Mostly sisters at my house. I think I remember Carlos now that you mention him.
"Forget this part of the conversation." Ok.
Three minutes pass. Nothing important happens during them - just a few more words exchanged, forgotten as readily as smalltalk usually is, and with her information in hand and her challenger thoroughly cowed, Amber goes on her way.