What robots do within the hospital can be summed up as a lot, in amongst the flesh and blood workers, none doing more or less so much as all that they can do. Peter puts in time here because it is familiar and because he knows someday he might return to just this, but just this is not so simple anymore and less a sentence to ordinary than it is a decision not to give up on people. It isn't easy, but no one said it would be, and in some respects the storybook boy can understand why; because nothing that matters is 'easy', because people are capable of more than they know, so on and so forth. Things are not as ideal as they once were for him, not in small part because the journey he began is not the journey he has ended with. Old friends--family--turned enemies and friends again have up and gone. And then there are the enemies that remain though only one to speak of in immediacy. Where the people from this place reside, sometimes he doesn't know. Robert Chase. Adrian Veidt. Penny. Max.
In the end his thoughts come back to Claire because she will be the one person he answers to when they return, however soon or far off that may be, but he tries to treat the life he has here with the dignity of at least realizing the concreteness of it, to not turn away simply because all here is temporary. Everything at home is (was) too, in a sense. So for that reason too he is at the hospital even now, pausing on the way to the room that seems to think ringing once isn't enough...or twice....or...well. Hm. Maybe the patient thinks it's broken? Peter can only guess as he steps into the room, door clicking shut behind him.
A once over is not required to know the man is stable. The room would be abuzz with hospital noise if he wasn't and that's that, save for a curse that would see fit perhaps to derail all machinery, but such a curse is not the problem for today, for which they can all be grateful. Peter is mindful to take shifts when he thinks people he doesn't otherwise know work in the hospital will be there. Granted he is not always right and those people tend to work a great deal, but often enough he is able to guesstimate within the framework of close-counts. It suits him more to leave coffee for Chase than it suits him to work in the same vicinity at the same time, but it is nothing personal. Peter would feel this way about anyone he might live with.
One wonders what the man wants at this hour but it could really, literally be anything, and suddenly he wonders how much this same man has been told about the City, and more importantly, how much he believes of it. Looking at him, the brunette honestly has no idea, but usually if people want to talk, they will and if the opposite, then they don't--simple as that from time to time.
"Need something?" he asks, to the left of the patient's bed, peering down and wondering with the morbidity of immediacy whether or not this person makes it in his own world, and it is telling of Peter more than anyone else that his initial feeling is to hope that he does even though he knows nothing about him.
this is the closest thing to disaster ... the kind of thing you laugh about after
In the end his thoughts come back to Claire because she will be the one person he answers to when they return, however soon or far off that may be, but he tries to treat the life he has here with the dignity of at least realizing the concreteness of it, to not turn away simply because all here is temporary. Everything at home is (was) too, in a sense. So for that reason too he is at the hospital even now, pausing on the way to the room that seems to think ringing once isn't enough...or twice....or...well. Hm. Maybe the patient thinks it's broken? Peter can only guess as he steps into the room, door clicking shut behind him.
A once over is not required to know the man is stable. The room would be abuzz with hospital noise if he wasn't and that's that, save for a curse that would see fit perhaps to derail all machinery, but such a curse is not the problem for today, for which they can all be grateful. Peter is mindful to take shifts when he thinks people he doesn't otherwise know work in the hospital will be there. Granted he is not always right and those people tend to work a great deal, but often enough he is able to guesstimate within the framework of close-counts. It suits him more to leave coffee for Chase than it suits him to work in the same vicinity at the same time, but it is nothing personal. Peter would feel this way about anyone he might live with.
One wonders what the man wants at this hour but it could really, literally be anything, and suddenly he wonders how much this same man has been told about the City, and more importantly, how much he believes of it. Looking at him, the brunette honestly has no idea, but usually if people want to talk, they will and if the opposite, then they don't--simple as that from time to time.
"Need something?" he asks, to the left of the patient's bed, peering down and wondering with the morbidity of immediacy whether or not this person makes it in his own world, and it is telling of Peter more than anyone else that his initial feeling is to hope that he does even though he knows nothing about him.