orangetoughguy

One; this guy looks nothing like Dr. Cameron. Two; this guy looks nothing like Nurse Francine. Three; he knows off the bat charming a face like that into turning a blind eye to smoking in a hospital is highly unlikely.

At least he doesn't start by asking where's the nurse. Think fast, Freddy.

"You got anything in here besides that," he points the device at the monitor on the other side of the room. Three's Company reruns. Classy.

One; it should be a relief Peter looks nothing like Cameron, but to be fair Freddy hasn't been here long enough to know exactly how much of a relief that is. Two; Peter doesn't even know Nurse Francine. Of course this is all beside his own point which is not necessarily to check on anything apart from the particular reason for the ringing. Glancing over at the monitor, his own expression makes the shift from inquiring to wry.

"Could be one channel fits all," he says but he isn't serious, as evidenced by him walking over to flip the dial to something else, first landing on...something in Spanish. Okay maybe not. He tries again. Cooking network? Somehow, he thinks not. Golden Girls---no comment. One of many cartoons that looks like the badly computer animated creatures are made of the playdough most kids think they can eat.

Uh. Hm. Three's Company reruns starting to look decent...ish.

This time when he changes channels he pauses on something he knows people are allowed to like unabashedly in their youth but maybe only questionably around his own age and older. He doesn't know what show, but it clearly has a sci-fi foundation and comic-book whimsy. Volume low enough to allow for any conversation, he arches a brow and then shrugs.

"Preference?" he asks even as he looks around for the ever elusive remote that should have come with this thing. Questions like how did it happen and where are you from feel somehow equally intrusive to someone so close to the event in time and its happening at all, so he doesn't ask them. Not now, anyway.

The day Freddy finds out how much a relief it is he doesn't look like Dr. Cameron is the day he might tell this guy he's not so bad looking after all. Never take what God gave you for granted, and no Freddy's not religious per se, but he believes in that sort of thing. Karma biting you in the ass? Proven time and time again. Of course none of this is said aloud and he is no mindreader nor does he have a reason to think Peter is one too.

"No." Hey that looks delicious, but difficult. "No." Looks artsy and more than his head can take right now. What the 'nurse' settles on surprises Freddy. Maybe Peter doesn't know it yet, but Hadji's about to ruin the day for those guys with the harpoons. Freddy actually smiles.

"Good enough," he nods, putting on a straight face because grown men don't watch cartoons (outside the privacy of their own home). The way he does so is just as much an indication that he can tell Peter knows it. They have an affinity for comics and cartoons. No harm there. "Thanks. Guess this ain't good for much," he says while turning the device around a few more times. He knows it's no remote, it looks kind of like a phone. It's jsut the craziest phone he's ever seen.

True, Peter is no mindreader, not today at least, but it doesn't always take mind reading to settle on something with common ground to stand on--in this case, guys with harpoons and laughable dialogue but the only way that's different from a lot of more contemporary shows is that it actually works for this one.

"You might be surprised," Peter says, walking back over and inviting himself into a chair that rests between the two beds, rather than the one at the left side again, and thus unknowingly sitting where Dr. Cameron was not long ago. Fifty-fifty chance of course, so nothing to read into. Just here instead of there. "It lets you talk to anyone here who has theirs on them too, and in a tight spot you'll want it." Briefly his gaze flicks over to the man in the other bed. "He's got one too."

Point being: and if you don't want to talk to anyone here, maybe you'll want it to talk to him, on a day when no one seems to be there but you or a day when everything is upside down, or a day when no step in any direction will bring you where you want to go. There are far worse curses but they don't need to be the ones brought up to make said point.

"So it is a fuckin' phone," he says to Peter while he tries to sit himself up a little more. Without the use of the bed thanks, he's a man, he can do this himself. "Thing's a little smaller than I'm used to. What is it, Japanese," Freddy asks, because clearly Peter's some kind of expert on these things. The other important detail which he doesn't share is that he knows this isn't his phone. It could be tapped. Calling Holdaway is a Bad Idea.

There's a look over to Larry's side of the room but Larry is Larry and Larry can take care of himself too. In other words, he talks to That Guy but he doesn't talk about That Guy.

"Sort of," Peter gives him that because, in many enough respects, it could be thought of as that, and often it makes it easier for people to just call it as something they already know. "Not Japanese though," he adds, bemused suddenly and feeling a little bad for it because it isn't nice to be amused at someone's circumstantial unawareness. Or refusal to believe. Or whatever. Maybe it's none of these, and it does occur to Peter that some people have a better grasp on the City than they let on. It just doesn't seem like the case for Freddy, not in small part because from what Peter can tell, neither he nor his bloodied partner have had time for a crash course.

"Anyway you should be resting," point. "Was there anything else?" Not the type to be abrupt, he is not the kind of person to keep a patient idling awake when sleep would do him better if there isn't any point in it, but he doesn't seem at the ready to leave either, not having gotten up, elbows on his knees and hands lightly clasped.

"Neat little piece," he remarks, flipping it open and looking over the buttons, the screen, the fact that the screen is large and reads nothing like his Motorola.

Freddy'll learn it fast, he's good with that sort of thing, a whole lot better than other subjects. Take for example, avoiding giving his own name, and he's subconsciously trying to do that with Peter. It's easy when civilians aren't in direct contact with you and one look tells him this guy is a civilian. On the other hand he could be as well-versed in duplicity as himself, lulling people into a false sense of security to open up a window for a strike. Freddy knows how that goes too. He shuts the device and turns to the dark haired man. They have to be the same age, he thinks to himself in observation. Who knows when that might come into use.

"Yeah, you got any idea where they're keepin' our stuff," he asks as if he's never been in a hospital that took away personal affects before.

"Planning on leaving soon?" the empath arches a brow, knowing the answer as far as physical capability but always interested in hearing the answer given in other terms---as to what the patient wants or intends even if it's completely ridiculous.

He quirks a brow at this response, not because the man's intuition surprises him. Rather, he quirks a brow because:

"Wouldn't you?" If he could he'd raise his arms to lace fingers at the back of his own head but the shoulder wound prevents that. Freddy can only lift his chin and look Peter in the eye.

"Unless you got some kinda benefit workin' here," he nods. It's casual conversation and at the same time he's learning what he can about the staff in this hospital.

It'd sound cocky to say he wouldn't end up here in the first place, but it wouldn't be meant that way if he did say it; it would just be the truth right now. With Claire's ability Peter is more likely to live forever just the age he looks than he is to wind up in a bed with a chart tacked onto the end like Freddy here. Still, not the kind of information to flaunt even to friends and Freddy is just another patient...though to be fair no one is ever really just another patient to Peter.

"Just the benefit of helping," he pauses, laughing briefly at himself. "Sounds cheesy, I know, but that's how I see it. I'm only part-time anyway." He pauses again but continues seconds later. "...they said you're new."

Meaning they--he doesn't look back over his shoulder, but he notes the other man again, consciously--came in like...well, like that, but he doesn't ask about why or how. If Freddy wants to say, then he will and if not, then not. That's the gist Peter gets from him at least.

"Makes you a real social worker," he says with no hint of facetiousness in his voice. In a way he'll never say, Freddy can relate. Sort of. But it's true he can recognize the people working here just to pay the rent, the ones working here because that's what mom and dad expected, and others who actually care about their professional choice.

"New to the ward? Yeah, I am," he says casually which doubles as carefully because giving away his medical history is a bad idea considering his situation. He knows his own record anyway, nothing worth noting, nothing that'll complicate his recovery. He really has no idea what Peter truly means.

"Right," he laughs again but it's in good nature, just as Freddy's comment was not facetious. He shrugs, as if to say 'and that's that' but the man's next reply has Peter blinking once then sitting up a bit straighter. He didn't mean it like that, but it makes sense enough that Freddy wouldn't know what he did mean. Considering how they showed up, it would be surprising if anyone gave them the crash course, period, though he suspects Cameron would have taken care of some of it if he's been awake before now too. May be that it's better not to try to explain the way reality has been bent for just about everyone, as it doesn't escape Peter that he is someone who came here more prepared for it than most. If you've traveled through time, among other things, traveling to another world is less of a jump for someone who, for example by contrast has only traveled out of the country.

Not quite the same thing. You know. At all.

A lot of this depends, of course, on how much Freddy is willing to believe.

"Well I'm Peter," he nods once at the man, introductions minus a handshake or really anything, a direction without being actually verbalized; stay still. At least for now. He figures it won't last if the patient's as eager to leave as he seems. Of course, as long as his partner or whoever is out, Peter guesses the man won't be going anywhere at all.

Because Peter looks nothing like Cameron, he doesn't get the benefit of receiving Freddy's name. Of course it would be easy to just ask her for it but win some lose some. Nothing against Peter himself or anything. If their roles were reversed he'd understand, wouldn't he?

"Nice to meet you, Peter. You been here long," Freddy asks, referring to the hospital staff, not the location of the hospital. The latter he hasn't learned yet, might not learn until he gets out.

Peter, for the record, would not understand, but then, that's less about their roles being reversed and more a matter of requiring their personalities on the whole. He would never find himself in that position otherwise.

"A year and a half, more or less," he nods, aware that he means something other than what the man in the bed means, but that's fine. Let him find out. It's, in its own way, easier and simpler than trying to force-feed the change in scenery to him. All in all, he feels like he's the more forthcoming out of the two of them but this isn't unusual, and Peter doesn't read into it much, because from past experience, he knows assuming much of anything about anyone is just asking to be proved wrong sooner or later; probably sooner.

"Long time," he remarks, still working the career angle because he has no reason to think otherwise. "You doin' somethin' on the side," asks the patient who may be overstepping boundaries in terms of personal intrusion when he is, as Peter notes, not as forthcoming.

"Helping at the Welcome Center," he ticks off one finger. "And part-time barista," another finger before he drops both hands to either arm of the chair. "Fills the hours fast," he explains in case this assortment of occupations and volunteer-work is a bit on the curious side, which in the actual world he comes from, he knows it likely would be even though there exist workaholics who probably do ten times as much. "There's something for just about everyone," he adds, the tone implying that he means this is relevant to Freddy even if the man doesn't know it yet.

"Welcome Center?"

This he asks with what is undoubtedly some kind of snort. Where are they, Santa Monica? Beverly Hills? Shit's too kind to be anywhere near the center of LA. Not to mention most of the staff has been easy on the eyes, including the little Irish girl running back and forth. This guy, well, even Freddy can observe he's not exactly unattractive. What's more important is it seems they're in some part of the city that has 1) good Samaritans 2) a decent hospital 3) a well-meaning staff 4) some kind of welfare program in place. It's no place for a crook like Joe Cabot unless he wants to hide in plain sight. On second thought, it's exactly the kind of place he'd expect the man to send Larry to, you know, if he weren't dead. Shit, at least he thinks Joe's dead. Otherwise, whoever brought them here could very well be someone who wants to laud them as heroes, having knocked off a rival in a criminal game. It looks nice and he's sure Peter here, Cameron, the nurse, all of them are good people, but that doesn't make it safe.

"Glad you got it all worked out for yourself," he says to Peter, smiling. It's an honest smile.

"Welcome Center." Statement rather than question, and it's an answer in that sense. Pretty much. Standing, he glances down at the man this time, a level stare for all that it's at a downward angle, as he measures all the things Freddy hasn't said and weighs them on some half-determined scale of nothing versus something.

"You will too, if you're here long enough," he says and heads for the door after a glance at the monitors. He doesn't waste time asking if Freddy needs anything else at the moment twice, instead pausing at the door to say, "Just so you know, the alert works fine. You just press it once." And he isn't all the way out the door as he leans in it instead, arms crossed, waiting for any kind of reply first.

That response draws his green eyes to narrow just slightly, not so much in suspicion as it is in surprise. Does Peter know more than he lets on? Interesting. That's one to watch out for, Freddy thinks to himself. He nods, letting his expression relax once again.

"Thanks. I'll exercise some restraint," he jokes, waving the device though he knows he's referring to the buzzer. "See you around, Peter," says the dirty blond. If they do, he'll have more reason to believe someone's keeping tabs on them.

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