Well Wishes, Well Being

Medical City Hospital

Bright, wide lights hang from the ceiling, casting the clean and sterile surroundings with brilliant light. A reception area sits centered before the door where people can check in, or ask for directions to other areas within the hospital. Past the desk is a small hallway with elevators leading to the upper floors, and signs that point to radiology.

Two large metal doors to the left of the entrance lead outside to the ambulance loading dock. The doors are marked 'EMERGENCY ONLY' in large red letters.

Aislin has been busy with life, dealing with music and performances and one rather focused vampire. She's finally managed to get a bit of time away from the chaos to visit her friend. But not before making a brief stop at an art store. Once she's made sure visiting hours are in effect, the redhead makes her way into the room after lightly rapping on the door, offering a small smile to Hugo as she steps in with an unmarked bag in hand.

More often than not, Hugo is asleep. You'd think after being in an induced coma for a week he'd be over that, but apparently the healing process is a slow one. At the taptaptapping on his door, the artist cracks open his eyes and focuses his blue gaze on the redheaded figure in his doorway. Yawning slightly he smiles and waves her in, greeting, "Aislin … what a nice surprise…." The musician and the artist haven't seen one another in awhile now, but he's still glad to see her, wiggling the fingers of his left hand at her from the end of his cast. "How did you know I was here?" The room has an assortment of flowers and one stuffed bear for decoration. Though on the mend, the left side of Hugo's face is still rather bruised, though the right side looks normal.

"I don't know how to use the internet, but I do know how to read a newspaper. And I do own a TV," Aislin tells him with a light smile. The redhead moves over towards his bedside and drags a chair over, setting the bag down on the side of his bed where there aren't any limbs resting. "I'd ask how you're feeling, but I imagine you hear that question at least a dozen times a day." She gives him a bit of a wry smile and opens the bag, pulling out a few small items. "Brought you something to pass the time." A pad of paper is placed down within reach, soon paired with a small palette of waterpaints and a couple of paint brushes. "Not sure how long you'll be in here."

Hugo looks bemused before he asks, "I made the news??" He seems surprised. Blinking, he frowns and mutters, "Oh, God, if my publicist used this accident to drum up some stupid article I will kill him…." Her comment causes him to crack a smile though and as she offers him her gifts, Hugo gingerly props himself with his right arm, a slow and pleased smile curling his lips as he murmurs, "Awww, Aislin… you shouldn't have…. but," he confesses with a smirk, "I'm glad you did. The TV gives me a headache. Some paints to pass the time away with is just what the doctor ordered." But then after a moment of reconsideration he corrects, "Well, okay, the doctor ordered rest, rest, and more rest, but a man can only sleep so much."

The redhead smiles at him, reaching over to help stuff some pillows behind his back as he sits up. She does seem quite pleased that he's happy about the gifts, a wider smile coming to her lips before she lifts one hand to lightly pat his arm. "You're very welcome, Hugo. If anyone can appreciate art and stuff, it's probably going to be me. I know I'd go a bit stir crazy if I was kept in here without music," Aislin tells him with a slight nod. "And they really weren't that expensive. I figured you'd just want something to do besides… well… watch TV. Or be asked a million times how you were feeling." The bag is set aside as she leaves him with the small art set, making sure it's all easily within reach of the injured artist.

"Ahhh, thank you," he rumbles as pillows are placed behind him with far greater ease and speed than he could manage on his own. Settling against them, he reaches over, pouring out a small bit of water into a cup before opening the watercolor case one-handed and dipping a brush into the water before wetting some of the paints. "I hurt," he replies to the unasked yet asked question. "Doctors say I broke some ribs and my arm of course. Got me on some hefty pain medication. They're still worried about my head, which is why I have to stay here for another week. Observation. Want to make sure my head doesn't explode or something…" It starts to paint, nothing real or relevant, just swirls of color upon the paper, his gaze lifting occasionally to meet Aislin's eyes. "How about you? How have you been? Anything exciting going on in your life?" he asks innocently.

"I don't doubt that you hurt," Aislin tells him with a slight wince, one hand rising to push any stray locks of hair out of his face. "But the medication should be taking the edge off, right?" She plunks herself down into the chair by his bed, glancing towards the paper as he begins to draw his little swirls, the splashes of color looking bright compared to the relatively pallid room. "Me?" The redhead goes quiet for a moment, considering his question. "Well. I drank way too much a little while back. Got turned into a meal. Wasn't very happy about it." The admission is given quietly, eyes flickering over towards the door briefly to make sure no one is eavesdropping. "He's interesting, though. Artistic in his own way. Played some music with me. Quoted quite a few Shakespeare sonnets." The redhead is conflicted about what she feels about him, clearly.

"MmmmMMMmmm, yeah it does most of the time. But the doctors don't want me on too much, due to the head injury and all. So it's all fine, until I forget and move too quickly or jar something." His hand jerks sharply, a slash of red crossing the paper as Hugo's eyes lift up to Aislin's, concern and worry reflected there. "But you're okay? Well, I guess it's obvious that you're okay. And you're still in touch with the vampire?" He seems surprised, but not repelled or disgusted by the idea or the fact that she's talking about him in a rather interesting fashion, like a good girl talks about the bad boy that she likes but knows she isn't supposed to like. A crooked smile touches his lips as he asks, "So. Are you two, like, dating? I mean, playing music together, quoting Shakespeare… sounds kinda… romantic."

She isn't looking any more pale that she usually does. Nor is Aislin looking terribly concerned or terrified that the creature may be stalking her. The concern on his face is noted and met with a light smile, but far from that odd dreamy look that many women get. "I'm still in contact with him, yes. He intrigues me. I'm never sure what to make of him from one day to the next." At the idea that she's actually DATING him, Aislin's smile fades somewhat and she just -stares- at him. "Uh. No. That stuff just lets me tolerate his presence. I don't like coming home to him sitting in my armchair and making a meal of me before I can even hang up my coat. No dating for me, I'm afraid."

"Just, just be careful, Aislin. I don't want to be a wet blanket, and I'm certainly not one to speak ill of vampires as a whole, but some of them can be deceptively dangerous. They are not always as they seem. All this?" he notes, gesturing to his condition. "Apparently due to a certain vampire thinking that he 'owns' me." Not that Hugo can remember any of what happened that night, but that's been the story he's been told so far, and sadly enough, it fits the facts. He does chuckle a bit at her slightly shocked reaction to his suggestion that she might like like this vampire. "Ahhh, okay, well, just make sure to uninvite him if he should try anything shady." Reassured that she isn't swept off her feet or been glamoured into delusion, Hugo starts painting again, his gaze turning to the vase of flowers nearest him, a large selection of brilliant, gold, sunflowers in a red vase.

Aislin nods to him at his warnings, resting her forearms on the side of the bed and plunking her chin down on them, eyes lifting to look at him as she converses with him like nothing is out of the ordinary. "Yeah, I've already told him that I know I can uninvite him," she tells him with a slight nod. "He's more or less behaved since that. So either he wants my attention for reasons I can't begin to fathom, or he just really likes my apartment. For reasons I can't fathom." Another shrug and she glances briefly to his forming artwork before her green gaze returns to him. "I don't really have anything against vampires as a whole either. Just… this one has me a bit perplexed. Enamored though? Not really. It's hard to trust someone who uses you for dinner."

"Don't sell yourself short. He's a vampire. He's seen it all. I seriously doubt it's your apartment that holds the allure for him. It's you." His head tilts to one side, his gaze shifting between Aislin and the vase of flowers as he continues to paint. "Do you have any idea how old he might be? The older ones, they generally don't remember their humanity enough to find humans interesting unless they're quite… different." And by different, Hugo means with power, like his sister Jo. But that isn't the sort of thing you just say to anybody. Most people in this world barely can handle the idea that vampires are real, let alone telepaths. "But the younger ones, they seem to be able to remember what it was like to be human, have an easier time recapturing that nature. I think they're more capable of caring for humans." He rinses out the brush, ringing the edge of it against the glass to shake off the excess water before starting in on a new color. "So long as you're careful and he treats you right, it should be fine. Just, and I know this sounds gross, but I'll say it anyway. Just don't ever, um, drink any of his blood. Not that I think you would," not by her reaction to the suggestion that she might actually like a vampire at any rate, "but, you know, better to say the obvious now than have it be an issue later…"

Aislin gives a slight shake of her head. "No, I have no idea how old he is. And yeah, I guess he is interested in me. But I don't know why. He doesn't -act- that interested in me. Except for food. Maybe that's his interest." Her forehead furrows slightly at that and she purses her lips. Not a good feeling to have someone considered a 'friend' that only wants you as food. "It'd help if he actually answered my questions from time to time." At the advice that she not drink his blood, a slightly 'ew' expression comes to her face. Her nose wrinkles and her forehead pinches together as Aislin squints at him. "Why would I drink -his- blood? I'm not a vampire. I like coffee. And sandwiches. Not blood." One hand rises to lightly rub the bridge of her nose before she sits up a bit to look down towards his painting as it forms on the sheet of paper.

"I doubt it's that. Well, not just that. The world is like a giant supermarket to vampires with steaks walking around everywhere. It's not like there aren't some steaks out there marked down to half-price or jumping off the shelves, begging to be eaten. If he's spending time with you and you're not just offering up a vein whenever he asks, then it's definitely more than just the blood thing." But at her question, Hugo just chuckles, his hand dropping to his side to hold his ribs as he laughs softly and shakes his head. "Ahhhh, no, I don't think you're actively interested in drinking his blood. But he might want you do. Or try to convince you to. Or something." He doesn't really want to get into how he 'accidentally' ingested Tareq's blood. Hugo didn't have much choice in the matter at the time. "It's just, if you do drink their blood, on purpose or by accident, it creates a bond between you and might give the vampire in question the belief that they 'own' you." The painting is simpler than most of his work, since it's only a small watercolor set, but it has a slightly Asian style to it, like Chinese brush paintings. He's adding small touches and details to it now, finishing it up as he asks, "What sort of questions does he refuse to answer? Or does he just blithely skip over them and avoids answering them by changing the topic?"

"He's never asked," Aislin tells him, green gaze flicking up to him. "Just takes it. Then puts me to bed and leaves." Well, at least he puts her to bed. Her elbows shift on the bed as she looks at him, a vaguely concerned look coming to her face as he holds his ribs. "Careful. Don't want you to stay here longer than you have to." She sits up a bit, looking at his little watercolor painting. "You're really good at that. A bond? I'm not sure if I want that kind of bond with him. I'm already annoyed with the insistence that I should be his plaything. That topic has since been dropped." One hand drops to her lap and she smoothes out her trousers, picking at a few invisible and non-existent loose threads. "He doesn't answer -any- questions I ask him. I've asked him what he wants, I've asked him why he hangs around me… he just doesn't answer them. He either ignores them, or leaves."

That causes Hugo to stop dead, his head lifting and eyes narrowing as he asks her, "Why do you let him feed from you then? I don't understand. If you don't feel for him, and you don't want to be considered food, then why let him feed? Especially if he doesn't even ask? And how often do you allow this? Are you protecting yourself from losing too much blood??" No, clearly Hugo doesn't like this little arrangement that's going on at all. If he was spending time with her and she wasn't feeding him, it would be a different matter. But this? He studies her face quietly, unable to tell if she's been glamoured somehow and once again cursing the fact that he didn't inherit the same talent as his sister. Uneasy, Hugo returns his attention to the painting, finishing it before placing the brush in the water, watching as the paint is absorbed into the paper before carefully tearing the page free and handing it over to Aislin. "Here. A small token of my gratitude." But he's worried now. That is abundantly clear.

Aislin holds up two fingers as he begins to grow concerned. "It's only happened twice. And he's really, really fast, Hugo. I don't have a chance to say no or make him leave. But he doesn't touch me inappropriately or anything, and I'm always put to bed safely." It could be worse, in her eyes. She isn't bruised or bloodied, or even scared at this point. But she's… uncertain. Part of her knows that it's wrong, that he's poison, but the other… "I don't know. He's interesting. I haven't met anyone like him before. I know lots of people, but no one's ever quoted Shakespeare to me or… spent that kind of time with me." Her tongue pokes out briefly as she licks her lips, not immediately elaborating on what she's talking about. If she's been glamored, why does she even know she's been bitten? One hand comes up to accept the small piece of artwork and Aislin gives him a light smile. "Thanks. It's really nice."

"You should dis-invite him. Now. The minute you get home. If he's feeding from you without even asking, moving so fast you don't even have the chance to refuse him, then he is not to be trusted. Period." His voice is soft, uncomfortable. In many ways they are just barely friends. But what she's describing to Hugo sounds like pure madness. "Most vampires are interesting. It's their stock and trade. Doesn't make them good or decent or safe or worth it." His eyes flicker back and forth between Aislin's before Hugo blows out a frustrated and upset breath, laying back on his pillows, wishing desperately that Jo would walk in through the door. But wishing has rarely gotten Hugo anything, and it doesn't serve him now. Softly he murmurs, "I'm glad you like it." But right now Hugo isn't honestly sure he can deal with what Aislin is telling him, his own helplessness never more stark. He can't protect himself, let alone Aislin or Josephine or Paige or… or anyone. He slips his right hand beneath the covers, clenching it with frustration as he closes his eyes and murmurs softly, "I'm sorry, but I'm suddenly terribly exhausted…."

Her cheerful manner falls as she listens to him, her lower lip catching between her teeth as she watches him completely shut down. Aislin leans back and sinks down in her seat slightly, running her thumbs lightly over the edges of the painting handed to her, being careful not to smudge it. For a few breaths, she simply sits there in silence. "I'm sorry," she finally says, slowly rising up onto her feet. "I didn't mean to upset you." Aislin's voice is soft, almost dejected. He's telling her to push away the one person that's close to her, despite the fact that it isn't exactly safe to have him around. It's a hard pill to swallow. Another business card is pulled out of her purse and set down on the table beside his bed. "You can… call me any time, if you want. I'm easily reached."

He'd like to comfort her, to tell her it's alright, that he's not upset, that this vampire isn't just using her, endangering her. But that's a lie that Hugo cannot bring himself to say right now. All of the fear that he's been keeping a tight lid on since Josephine told him of what happened is bubbling up now, threatening to overflow. Fear for Aislin. Fear for himself and his friends and his sister. Too much fear and nothing that he can do except lie here. Helplessly. Nodding he turns his head away and lets his body go slack in the hopes that Aislin will think him falling asleep, the tears forming at the corners of his eyes just barely holding in place as he tries to hold back till she's left the room.

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