Encounterlogs
Laurens Odd Encounter Sr Avriel 240524
In the captivating tale of empathy and supernatural realms, Lauren finds herself detoured from a leisurely visit to Mandala Jewelry Designs to a critical mission assigned by the Order. Tasked with comforting Freddy, a young boy in a Boston hospital who has just awakened from a coma after a werewolf attack on his family, Lauren must employ all her skills and compassion. Despite her reluctance to abandon her plans, she recognizes the gravity of Freddy's situation and heads to Massachusetts General Hospital, armed with chocolates, candies, and a solemn duty to offer solace and secrecy about the supernatural world.
Upon meeting Freddy, Lauren is confronted with the harsh realities of the boy's trauma and the intricate task of navigating his grief and disbelief. Freddy is desperate for answers and hope, clinging to the possibility of reversing the tragedy through magic or bringing his family back. Lauren, with tenderness and honesty, explains the limitations of magic and the irreversible nature of death, shattering the boy's last vestiges of hope but establishing a connection through shared tears and vulnerability. In those quiet moments of despair, they share an unspoken understanding of the harshness of their reality. Freddy's grief is palpable, and Lauren's presence offers a small beacon of support as they both grapple with the unfairness of the world. This poignant encounter leaves an indelible mark on both Lauren and Freddy, a reminder of the human cost of the supernatural's intrusion into the mundane world and the strength found in shared human emotion.
(Lauren's odd encounter(SRAvriel):SRAvriel)
[Thu May 23 2024]
In the Women's Section of Mandala Jewelry Designs
The mosaic of tiles carries along the floor into the women's section of Mandala Jewelry Designs. Here, however, the varied colour scheme has been muted to a palette of rich saffron, ruby red, and gleaming gold. The display cases are silver and glass, with high intensity lighting to accentuate the wares here.
It is night, about 67F(19C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
Vrrrrr. Vrrrrr.
No sooner has Lauren set foot in the women's section of the jewelry shop than her phone begins to buzz incessantly in her pocket. The gems and jewels on display glitter sadly at her, knowing they shall not be receiving their daily due of admiration by people who can't really afford them. There's a pause, then a crackled message, slightly annoyed, over the Order's comms: "Pick that up, please, Lauren. Job for you."
The buzzing is easily ignored for a full ten seconds - Lauren is, after all, here to look at pretty jewelry, and pretty jewelry still needs looking at. Whoever's calling her can wait, surely. She's in the middle of admiring a gleaming golden pendant, running her fingers along the thin chain of it and steadfastly keeping herself from glancing at the price tag when the annoyed voice sounds over the Order's comms. A long, heavy sigh. "... fine."
Her phone's pulled out of the pocket of her skirt, squinted at as though she's hoping it'll magically stop buzzing in the five extra seconds she's stalling. Then, with one long look at the the caller ID - she's gonna remember that name/number/whatever -, she swipes across the screen and holds it up to her ear. "Sup."
Caller ID's almost not worth having, these days - Lauren's phone helpfully informs her that her new contact's number is private, and offers no further information. A twenty-first century classic, truly.
"Evening, Lauren," sighs the only faintly-recognisable voice of an Order call operator. "We have a kid in Boston who's just woken up from a coma. Had a werewolf tear through his family a couple weeks ago. We'd send an alchemist... and a therapist, really... but it's the middle of the night and Boston's alchemist union will crack the shits with us if we try to force overtime." There's a weary sounding sigh, then: "You're our night-time regular, you know how things are at this point. Can you head up to Massachusetts General in Boston and ask for Frederick Humphries? You might need to apply a little persuasion to get admitted. After that... We just need you to sit and mind the kid until the sun comes up and we can get someone to help him process those memories."
You'll rue the day, phone. Lauren's going to replace it just out of spite, at this point. "Heya," she returns the greeting only slightly more properly this time, leaning against the glass displays holding expensive jewelry much to the disapproval of the night-shift salesperson. "Goddamn, that's rough," she murmurs lowly after she's been briefed, wincing to herself. Whatever protests she may have initially had at being made to spend her entire night out in Boston dissipate with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, that's fine. I'll head out." She's already heading out to her car while she speaks, fishing her keys out of her pocket and waving a quick goodbye at whoever's manning the jewelry store. "Anything else you want me to do for the kid?"
The quiet ambience of muffled cursing and washrags being wiped against the smudged display serve as the jeweler's acknowledgement of Lauren's departure.
"He's gonna be pretty fucked up," the operator admits. "Two weeks in a coma and the last thing he remembers will be... all that. Just take it gentle with him. I'm looking at a report that shows some brain damage, too, so... I dunno how recovered he'll be from that. He's only just woken up. He's verbal, though, and he's been talking about werewolves. It's just coma dream talk for now... but do what you can." He lets out another sympathetic sigh, then says, "Anything else you need before I let you get to it, Lauren?"
"Nah, I'll be fine. Just, uh, text me the name so I don't forget, I guess. Thanks, man. You have a good one." Lauren exhales out another slow sigh when she hangs up and gets to driving - it's gonna be a half-hour drive at the minimum, but her gas tank is full and there's Taylor Swift playing on the radio so she can vibe while she goes.
There's a pit stop along the way, to grab some snacks. A kid will surely enjoy some chocolates and candies, right? Well, even if he doesn't, or isn't cleared to have solid food yet, Lauren definitely will enjoy chocolates and candies regardless.
Before she walks up to the hospital, Lauren puts on her most serious face - a rare sight to see indeed - and squares her shoulders, striding in like she owns the place. She's always been a good liar. "Evening," comes a nod to the receptionist. "I'm here for Frederick Humphries, his... mother's cousin. Twice removed. Drove down from LA, just got here last night. They called me to let me know he's awake." The mysterious 'they', yes. She blinks, and there's the faintest shimmer of tears in her eyes, her gaze distant. "What a shame, the poor child. Could you- excuse me," She sniffles, reaches for a napkin, blows her runny nose into it. It's a tragic time indeed. "Sorry - can you just let me know the room number? It's been a rough couple of weeks."
The hospital admin manning the admissions desk gives Lauren a pretty skeptical look once she begins her spiel... but those last few words, glazed with syrupy psychic persuasion, are enough for her lips to break into a sad, sympathetic smile. "I understand, honey," she murmurs, as Lauren feels the imprint take hold. "You'll want to take the left here and head up to the ward that says ECP on it - that's Emerging Consciousness Program. He's in room two there. And... honey... be slow. He's only just woken up." She eyes the candies at Lauren's side, then suggests, "You can't give those to him... he still needs to readjust to eating solids. I'm serious, okay? He'll probably choke."
One of the hospital admin manning the admissions desk gives Lauren a pretty skeptical look once she begins her spiel... but those last few words, glazed with syrupy psychic persuasion, are enough for her lips to break into a sad, sympathetic smile. "I understand, honey," she murmurs, as Lauren feels the imprint take hold. "You'll want to take the left here and head up to the ward that says ECP on it - that's Emerging Consciousness Program. He's in room two there. And... honey... be slow. He's only just woken up." She eyes the candies at Lauren's side, then suggests, "You can't give those to him... he still needs to readjust to eating solids. I'm serious, okay? He'll probably choke." (fix)
Lauren pauses, glancing down at the bag of chocolates and candies at her side, before she gives the admin a nod of her head and a thankful smile in return. "They're just for me. My blood sugar drops in stressful situations," she lies, even though there's really no need for it, and then skedaddles off with a murmured "thank you" before she can be pressed further on the issue. No solids means she can melt one of the chocolates and then give /that/ to the kid, right? Her plan is foolproof.
Anyway, ECP room two coming right up. She strides through the place, only gets lost like once or twice, at most, and then she's at the door, pushing it open and peering in cautiously - wouldn't do to make a bad first impression if she's gotta keep the kid company for another two hours, at minimum.
Though Massachusetts General is a busy-enough hospital to generally forgo having 'sleepy hours of the night', the coma ward is much quieter, and is almost empty in comparison. The halls are still lit, but other than the occasional passing-by of an orderly or security guard, there's nothing going on. The first course of doctors and nurses must have seen to the kid already and left him to rest for the night, and there's no one left but him once Lauren gets the door open. His room doesn't have a TV in it, sadly, but the boredom hasn't quite been enough to put him to sleep. That would probably be on account of the bandages wrapped around him, and the semi-healed wounds that must be aching away underneath them. Even if Lauren can't quite see them, she knows it was a werewolf attack. It couldn't be anything pretty.
Freddy gingerly turns his head to eye Lauren, his brow knitting slowly together in confusion. "Hello," he says, his voice hoarse with how little it's been used lately. "You don't look like a doctor. Do -" He coughs. "Do I know you?"
Hear that, in the silence? That's the sound of Lauren's heart breaking, just a teeny tiny bit. Lauren pushes the door open more properly, then walks in and shuts it behind her, looking over the kid with sad eyes. "Nah, kiddo. We haven't met," she tells him quietly, taking a seat upon one of the visitor's chairs after dragging it closer to little Freddy. "I'm Lauren. I'm-... a friend. Not a doctor, no." She glances around the place, in hopes of spotting a jug of water or something left out for the child. "Do you need some water, Freddy? Are you-..." A pause. She bites down on her lip, and doesn't ask if he's okay.
The kid - somewhere between twelve and fifteen, depending on how late a bloomer he was - makes a twisted expression, then lets his head fall gently back onto the pillow with a sigh. "No," he says. There's a lot of emotion - loss, fear, mourning - in that one syllable. "I'm on a drip. Don't need water." Deep, dark blue eyes stare up at the ceiling with a haunted gloom, and silence creeps into the room for just a moment. He's already been told that everything he saw was just a dream from his coma, but it doesn't look like he's bought it yet. There's bitterness... and physical evidence, under all those bandages. "Are you from child services, then? Am I... what, a ward of the state, now?" Anger creeps into his voice, edging out the sadness that might overwhelm him otherwise.
"Yeah, but the drip doesn't help with your throat being all dry, right? But it's fine if you think it'll make you queasy," Lauren speaks from experience. For once, she seems at a loss for words after those few sentences, just staring down at her lap, glancing the occasional glance over at the kid now and then, though she does shake her head at the last of his questions. "I'm not from child services, I'm-..." A pause, a slow, deep breath. What's she even supposed to say here? What could Lauren say that would make it hurt any less? She runs her fingers through her hair, glances around the room again to look for a perfect answer that doesn't exist.
"I'm from an organization that helps... people like you," she decides finally. A perfectly vague answer. "I understand how it is. We're here to help, with what happened to your family." Shit, was she supposed to actually claim vengeance against a rogue werewolf? Too late now.
With Lauren's evasiveness, and the treatment he got from the doctors earlier, her reply only seems to inspire wariness in Freddy, who looks the pierced blonde up and down. "Look," he mutters. "I know what I saw. This huge black dude turned into a freaking monster, okay? I saw it. I don't need you to take me to some group therapy situation, or coma survivors anonymous or /whatever/ you want to give me. I get that you want to help... but I don't want to hear it right now, okay?" His voice cracks as he protests, and by the end of it, he's on the brink of tears in defense of his experiences. "I haven't even seen the cops yet. I want to hear them tell me what happened with my parents. Okay?"
As for spirits - nothing. Not even the whisper of it, but there's a certain tingle in the air. With how important and public a building the hospital is, it could be that they have a few wizards on the payroll, keeping things warded and safe.
"I know," Lauren breathes, shaking her head at Freddie quickly, "I know. The cops won't-... they have to maintain the status quo. Animal attack, that's what they'll tell you. Their job is to cover it up, when things like this happen." She grimaces, straightening up some and rubbing the back of her neck - how the fuck does someone tackle this situation, even? Damn her waking hours. Lauren exhales another heavy sigh. "I'm not here to take you to group therapy - God knows some therapy might do you good though. You should think about it when you're out of here."
"Look, kid - you saw what you saw. There's... some things that can't be explained, but your eyes weren't deceiving you or anything. It's-... werewolves, I'm sure you've heard the term before, yeah? Sometimes they go crazy on full moons and then shit like... that... happens... Fuck. I'm sorry."
Freddy sits up. It's a slow, painful process, but deliberate and careful enough to make it clear how much effort he wants to put into this. With him facing Lauren properly, the bandaging on the side of his face becomes visible, as well as the thick tube running through his nose and down his throat - not just an IV, but a feeding tube.
"So it /was/ real," he mutters. "Okay. I mean... what happens now, then..? If magic is real, then... can my family be brought back? Or can we turn back time to... undo it all? It's fine if that means I have to lose my memory." He's earnest, and apparently had time to think about it, stuck in his sleeping body. "How do we fix it?"
Don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry, Lauren. She forces back the tears welling up in her eyes through sheer willpower, the woman leaning forward to stabilize the boy during his efforts of moving from lying to a seated position. Her fingers hover worriedly even after he's finished the transition, in case he unbalances. Toppling over is likely to be very painful.
"They-" Words get stuck in her throat, voice quivering too much to form a proper sentence until Lauren swallows. "There's... no fixing it, kiddo. They're gone. Magic doesn't bring back the dead - only as monsters that'll feed on people and then decay away again anyway. Magic doesn't... turn back time." Her eyes are downcast, fixed on her lap again. "I'm sorry."
The kid's face falls instantly, crumpling into something heartbroken and now deprived of whatever hope he'd been holding out for. "Oh," he says, shatteringly quiet. The tears begin to flow immediately, staining the white bandages taped against his cheek. He clears his throat immediately afterwards, then chokes softly, the constricting of his throat disagreeing with the feeding tube running through it, and from there he just devolves into a mess, sobbing and choking on his tears. He really is just a kid. There'd been more questions in his eyes, before - what do you want to do from here, where do I go now... but they're forgotten, for the moment, with the delivery of Lauren's blunt, if sympathetic, explanation.
Oh. Oh dear. The tears that she'd been holding back so steadfastly come spilling down Lauren's cheeks all at once, the woman reaching a tender hand up to wipe away the boy's tears - it doesn't do a lot, when what she wipes away is immediately replaced by a deluge of further sobbing. "I'm sorry," she whispers, quiet and subdued, her voice barely heard over his grief-filled sobs. "I'm sorry, kidd- Fred. They didn't deserve this. You don't deserve this. I'm-" There's a hiccuped sob that interrupts her words, and then she falls quiet, reaching up her free hand to brush away the wetness from her own face - this isn't the time for her to break down. That can come later, when she's back home, behind a locked door. This, now, this time for this child who's being forced to grow up too soon. This is for a child who's learning that the world isn't fair, and people are assholes just because they can be, and Lauren is so, so sorry. "It'll- It'll be okay. One day. I'm sorry, kiddo. Just... breathe, yeah? Just breathe."
Psychic influences might be a little too subtle of an approach here; Freddy's emotions are a maelstrom of hurt, and Lauren's magic cannot fly true through winds as harsh as these. Her own tears encourage more of his own, and sure enough the child is left quietly weeping for his murdered family. Perhaps, one day, he might become a soldier of the Temple, or an independent hunter of werewolves... or perhaps he would live a calm, normal life, get married, get fat and be buried with others who came to love him through the next chapters of his life. It's not for Lauren to know - or at least, not to know now. Now is the time for crying quietly together, and keeping an eye on the young man until Lauren can be relieved by a bleary-eyed Order alchemist. She gets a hug from the hypnotist, too, and some makeup wipes handed discreetly to her so that she doesn't have to walk out in a mess. Frederick Humphries survived his encounter and pulled himself out of a coma - and that will have to suffice, for now. Hopefully, it's enough for Lauren, on the drive back to Haven.
Upon meeting Freddy, Lauren is confronted with the harsh realities of the boy's trauma and the intricate task of navigating his grief and disbelief. Freddy is desperate for answers and hope, clinging to the possibility of reversing the tragedy through magic or bringing his family back. Lauren, with tenderness and honesty, explains the limitations of magic and the irreversible nature of death, shattering the boy's last vestiges of hope but establishing a connection through shared tears and vulnerability. In those quiet moments of despair, they share an unspoken understanding of the harshness of their reality. Freddy's grief is palpable, and Lauren's presence offers a small beacon of support as they both grapple with the unfairness of the world. This poignant encounter leaves an indelible mark on both Lauren and Freddy, a reminder of the human cost of the supernatural's intrusion into the mundane world and the strength found in shared human emotion.
(Lauren's odd encounter(SRAvriel):SRAvriel)
[Thu May 23 2024]
In the Women's Section of Mandala Jewelry Designs
The mosaic of tiles carries along the floor into the women's section of Mandala Jewelry Designs. Here, however, the varied colour scheme has been muted to a palette of rich saffron, ruby red, and gleaming gold. The display cases are silver and glass, with high intensity lighting to accentuate the wares here.
It is night, about 67F(19C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
Vrrrrr. Vrrrrr.
No sooner has Lauren set foot in the women's section of the jewelry shop than her phone begins to buzz incessantly in her pocket. The gems and jewels on display glitter sadly at her, knowing they shall not be receiving their daily due of admiration by people who can't really afford them. There's a pause, then a crackled message, slightly annoyed, over the Order's comms: "Pick that up, please, Lauren. Job for you."
The buzzing is easily ignored for a full ten seconds - Lauren is, after all, here to look at pretty jewelry, and pretty jewelry still needs looking at. Whoever's calling her can wait, surely. She's in the middle of admiring a gleaming golden pendant, running her fingers along the thin chain of it and steadfastly keeping herself from glancing at the price tag when the annoyed voice sounds over the Order's comms. A long, heavy sigh. "... fine."
Her phone's pulled out of the pocket of her skirt, squinted at as though she's hoping it'll magically stop buzzing in the five extra seconds she's stalling. Then, with one long look at the the caller ID - she's gonna remember that name/number/whatever -, she swipes across the screen and holds it up to her ear. "Sup."
Caller ID's almost not worth having, these days - Lauren's phone helpfully informs her that her new contact's number is private, and offers no further information. A twenty-first century classic, truly.
"Evening, Lauren," sighs the only faintly-recognisable voice of an Order call operator. "We have a kid in Boston who's just woken up from a coma. Had a werewolf tear through his family a couple weeks ago. We'd send an alchemist... and a therapist, really... but it's the middle of the night and Boston's alchemist union will crack the shits with us if we try to force overtime." There's a weary sounding sigh, then: "You're our night-time regular, you know how things are at this point. Can you head up to Massachusetts General in Boston and ask for Frederick Humphries? You might need to apply a little persuasion to get admitted. After that... We just need you to sit and mind the kid until the sun comes up and we can get someone to help him process those memories."
You'll rue the day, phone. Lauren's going to replace it just out of spite, at this point. "Heya," she returns the greeting only slightly more properly this time, leaning against the glass displays holding expensive jewelry much to the disapproval of the night-shift salesperson. "Goddamn, that's rough," she murmurs lowly after she's been briefed, wincing to herself. Whatever protests she may have initially had at being made to spend her entire night out in Boston dissipate with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, that's fine. I'll head out." She's already heading out to her car while she speaks, fishing her keys out of her pocket and waving a quick goodbye at whoever's manning the jewelry store. "Anything else you want me to do for the kid?"
The quiet ambience of muffled cursing and washrags being wiped against the smudged display serve as the jeweler's acknowledgement of Lauren's departure.
"He's gonna be pretty fucked up," the operator admits. "Two weeks in a coma and the last thing he remembers will be... all that. Just take it gentle with him. I'm looking at a report that shows some brain damage, too, so... I dunno how recovered he'll be from that. He's only just woken up. He's verbal, though, and he's been talking about werewolves. It's just coma dream talk for now... but do what you can." He lets out another sympathetic sigh, then says, "Anything else you need before I let you get to it, Lauren?"
"Nah, I'll be fine. Just, uh, text me the name so I don't forget, I guess. Thanks, man. You have a good one." Lauren exhales out another slow sigh when she hangs up and gets to driving - it's gonna be a half-hour drive at the minimum, but her gas tank is full and there's Taylor Swift playing on the radio so she can vibe while she goes.
There's a pit stop along the way, to grab some snacks. A kid will surely enjoy some chocolates and candies, right? Well, even if he doesn't, or isn't cleared to have solid food yet, Lauren definitely will enjoy chocolates and candies regardless.
Before she walks up to the hospital, Lauren puts on her most serious face - a rare sight to see indeed - and squares her shoulders, striding in like she owns the place. She's always been a good liar. "Evening," comes a nod to the receptionist. "I'm here for Frederick Humphries, his... mother's cousin. Twice removed. Drove down from LA, just got here last night. They called me to let me know he's awake." The mysterious 'they', yes. She blinks, and there's the faintest shimmer of tears in her eyes, her gaze distant. "What a shame, the poor child. Could you- excuse me," She sniffles, reaches for a napkin, blows her runny nose into it. It's a tragic time indeed. "Sorry - can you just let me know the room number? It's been a rough couple of weeks."
The hospital admin manning the admissions desk gives Lauren a pretty skeptical look once she begins her spiel... but those last few words, glazed with syrupy psychic persuasion, are enough for her lips to break into a sad, sympathetic smile. "I understand, honey," she murmurs, as Lauren feels the imprint take hold. "You'll want to take the left here and head up to the ward that says ECP on it - that's Emerging Consciousness Program. He's in room two there. And... honey... be slow. He's only just woken up." She eyes the candies at Lauren's side, then suggests, "You can't give those to him... he still needs to readjust to eating solids. I'm serious, okay? He'll probably choke."
One of the hospital admin manning the admissions desk gives Lauren a pretty skeptical look once she begins her spiel... but those last few words, glazed with syrupy psychic persuasion, are enough for her lips to break into a sad, sympathetic smile. "I understand, honey," she murmurs, as Lauren feels the imprint take hold. "You'll want to take the left here and head up to the ward that says ECP on it - that's Emerging Consciousness Program. He's in room two there. And... honey... be slow. He's only just woken up." She eyes the candies at Lauren's side, then suggests, "You can't give those to him... he still needs to readjust to eating solids. I'm serious, okay? He'll probably choke." (fix)
Lauren pauses, glancing down at the bag of chocolates and candies at her side, before she gives the admin a nod of her head and a thankful smile in return. "They're just for me. My blood sugar drops in stressful situations," she lies, even though there's really no need for it, and then skedaddles off with a murmured "thank you" before she can be pressed further on the issue. No solids means she can melt one of the chocolates and then give /that/ to the kid, right? Her plan is foolproof.
Anyway, ECP room two coming right up. She strides through the place, only gets lost like once or twice, at most, and then she's at the door, pushing it open and peering in cautiously - wouldn't do to make a bad first impression if she's gotta keep the kid company for another two hours, at minimum.
Though Massachusetts General is a busy-enough hospital to generally forgo having 'sleepy hours of the night', the coma ward is much quieter, and is almost empty in comparison. The halls are still lit, but other than the occasional passing-by of an orderly or security guard, there's nothing going on. The first course of doctors and nurses must have seen to the kid already and left him to rest for the night, and there's no one left but him once Lauren gets the door open. His room doesn't have a TV in it, sadly, but the boredom hasn't quite been enough to put him to sleep. That would probably be on account of the bandages wrapped around him, and the semi-healed wounds that must be aching away underneath them. Even if Lauren can't quite see them, she knows it was a werewolf attack. It couldn't be anything pretty.
Freddy gingerly turns his head to eye Lauren, his brow knitting slowly together in confusion. "Hello," he says, his voice hoarse with how little it's been used lately. "You don't look like a doctor. Do -" He coughs. "Do I know you?"
Hear that, in the silence? That's the sound of Lauren's heart breaking, just a teeny tiny bit. Lauren pushes the door open more properly, then walks in and shuts it behind her, looking over the kid with sad eyes. "Nah, kiddo. We haven't met," she tells him quietly, taking a seat upon one of the visitor's chairs after dragging it closer to little Freddy. "I'm Lauren. I'm-... a friend. Not a doctor, no." She glances around the place, in hopes of spotting a jug of water or something left out for the child. "Do you need some water, Freddy? Are you-..." A pause. She bites down on her lip, and doesn't ask if he's okay.
The kid - somewhere between twelve and fifteen, depending on how late a bloomer he was - makes a twisted expression, then lets his head fall gently back onto the pillow with a sigh. "No," he says. There's a lot of emotion - loss, fear, mourning - in that one syllable. "I'm on a drip. Don't need water." Deep, dark blue eyes stare up at the ceiling with a haunted gloom, and silence creeps into the room for just a moment. He's already been told that everything he saw was just a dream from his coma, but it doesn't look like he's bought it yet. There's bitterness... and physical evidence, under all those bandages. "Are you from child services, then? Am I... what, a ward of the state, now?" Anger creeps into his voice, edging out the sadness that might overwhelm him otherwise.
"Yeah, but the drip doesn't help with your throat being all dry, right? But it's fine if you think it'll make you queasy," Lauren speaks from experience. For once, she seems at a loss for words after those few sentences, just staring down at her lap, glancing the occasional glance over at the kid now and then, though she does shake her head at the last of his questions. "I'm not from child services, I'm-..." A pause, a slow, deep breath. What's she even supposed to say here? What could Lauren say that would make it hurt any less? She runs her fingers through her hair, glances around the room again to look for a perfect answer that doesn't exist.
"I'm from an organization that helps... people like you," she decides finally. A perfectly vague answer. "I understand how it is. We're here to help, with what happened to your family." Shit, was she supposed to actually claim vengeance against a rogue werewolf? Too late now.
With Lauren's evasiveness, and the treatment he got from the doctors earlier, her reply only seems to inspire wariness in Freddy, who looks the pierced blonde up and down. "Look," he mutters. "I know what I saw. This huge black dude turned into a freaking monster, okay? I saw it. I don't need you to take me to some group therapy situation, or coma survivors anonymous or /whatever/ you want to give me. I get that you want to help... but I don't want to hear it right now, okay?" His voice cracks as he protests, and by the end of it, he's on the brink of tears in defense of his experiences. "I haven't even seen the cops yet. I want to hear them tell me what happened with my parents. Okay?"
As for spirits - nothing. Not even the whisper of it, but there's a certain tingle in the air. With how important and public a building the hospital is, it could be that they have a few wizards on the payroll, keeping things warded and safe.
"I know," Lauren breathes, shaking her head at Freddie quickly, "I know. The cops won't-... they have to maintain the status quo. Animal attack, that's what they'll tell you. Their job is to cover it up, when things like this happen." She grimaces, straightening up some and rubbing the back of her neck - how the fuck does someone tackle this situation, even? Damn her waking hours. Lauren exhales another heavy sigh. "I'm not here to take you to group therapy - God knows some therapy might do you good though. You should think about it when you're out of here."
"Look, kid - you saw what you saw. There's... some things that can't be explained, but your eyes weren't deceiving you or anything. It's-... werewolves, I'm sure you've heard the term before, yeah? Sometimes they go crazy on full moons and then shit like... that... happens... Fuck. I'm sorry."
Freddy sits up. It's a slow, painful process, but deliberate and careful enough to make it clear how much effort he wants to put into this. With him facing Lauren properly, the bandaging on the side of his face becomes visible, as well as the thick tube running through his nose and down his throat - not just an IV, but a feeding tube.
"So it /was/ real," he mutters. "Okay. I mean... what happens now, then..? If magic is real, then... can my family be brought back? Or can we turn back time to... undo it all? It's fine if that means I have to lose my memory." He's earnest, and apparently had time to think about it, stuck in his sleeping body. "How do we fix it?"
Don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry, Lauren. She forces back the tears welling up in her eyes through sheer willpower, the woman leaning forward to stabilize the boy during his efforts of moving from lying to a seated position. Her fingers hover worriedly even after he's finished the transition, in case he unbalances. Toppling over is likely to be very painful.
"They-" Words get stuck in her throat, voice quivering too much to form a proper sentence until Lauren swallows. "There's... no fixing it, kiddo. They're gone. Magic doesn't bring back the dead - only as monsters that'll feed on people and then decay away again anyway. Magic doesn't... turn back time." Her eyes are downcast, fixed on her lap again. "I'm sorry."
The kid's face falls instantly, crumpling into something heartbroken and now deprived of whatever hope he'd been holding out for. "Oh," he says, shatteringly quiet. The tears begin to flow immediately, staining the white bandages taped against his cheek. He clears his throat immediately afterwards, then chokes softly, the constricting of his throat disagreeing with the feeding tube running through it, and from there he just devolves into a mess, sobbing and choking on his tears. He really is just a kid. There'd been more questions in his eyes, before - what do you want to do from here, where do I go now... but they're forgotten, for the moment, with the delivery of Lauren's blunt, if sympathetic, explanation.
Oh. Oh dear. The tears that she'd been holding back so steadfastly come spilling down Lauren's cheeks all at once, the woman reaching a tender hand up to wipe away the boy's tears - it doesn't do a lot, when what she wipes away is immediately replaced by a deluge of further sobbing. "I'm sorry," she whispers, quiet and subdued, her voice barely heard over his grief-filled sobs. "I'm sorry, kidd- Fred. They didn't deserve this. You don't deserve this. I'm-" There's a hiccuped sob that interrupts her words, and then she falls quiet, reaching up her free hand to brush away the wetness from her own face - this isn't the time for her to break down. That can come later, when she's back home, behind a locked door. This, now, this time for this child who's being forced to grow up too soon. This is for a child who's learning that the world isn't fair, and people are assholes just because they can be, and Lauren is so, so sorry. "It'll- It'll be okay. One day. I'm sorry, kiddo. Just... breathe, yeah? Just breathe."
Psychic influences might be a little too subtle of an approach here; Freddy's emotions are a maelstrom of hurt, and Lauren's magic cannot fly true through winds as harsh as these. Her own tears encourage more of his own, and sure enough the child is left quietly weeping for his murdered family. Perhaps, one day, he might become a soldier of the Temple, or an independent hunter of werewolves... or perhaps he would live a calm, normal life, get married, get fat and be buried with others who came to love him through the next chapters of his life. It's not for Lauren to know - or at least, not to know now. Now is the time for crying quietly together, and keeping an eye on the young man until Lauren can be relieved by a bleary-eyed Order alchemist. She gets a hug from the hypnotist, too, and some makeup wipes handed discreetly to her so that she doesn't have to walk out in a mess. Frederick Humphries survived his encounter and pulled himself out of a coma - and that will have to suffice, for now. Hopefully, it's enough for Lauren, on the drive back to Haven.