attitude: (une allumeuse)
When Faye cuts across the path outside the Compound on her way back to the clinic, she wishes more than anything that she could cut the thread of tension that winds deep in her stomach. That niggling sense of dread that tells her that what the doctor has to report might not be at all what she wants to hear. She would give anything to not give a damn, to be content to solve all problems with a painkiller or two— sadly, the desire for self-preservation seems to outweigh, and before Faye steps into the building, she finds herself shaking out the nerves on the steps, a deep breath slipping between her teeth before she pushes inside.

She can do this.

Nothing can get worse than waking up to discover that you've missed fifty years and don't remember a thing, right?

Right.

It doesn't help that she's aching all over, groggy to no end, and that all she wants to do is crawl back into bed and sleep the day away. One wouldn't know it by her outfit though, a devilishly red halter looped around her neck and shorts that show off the length of her legs, skin still relatively pale in spite of the sunning she does every week.

She saunters in, and maybe she looks twice as confident as she feels.

"Hey," she greets, happy to have found a familiar face. "So... as requested, here for the results. Sorry for making you come in off hours."
attitude: (le der des der désaltère)
With everything that's happened on the island as of late, Faye Valentine's concern about her health has ranked low on her list of priorities. A little bit of fatigue and soreness isn't much to worry about; delayed menstruation is probably just time catching up with her at last, now that she's arguably settled, and now that there's enough air to manage a breath or two. More important than her problems is attending to Dean, watching over Castiel, overseeing everything that Edward does. It at once runs contrary to her nature, and yet doesn't at all— to watch over others hasn't been Faye's modus operandi since she was a child, the years thereafter spent too wholly on herself, on making sure that no one would stamp her out of existence. That she wouldn't be shackled to a debt she never asked for. But it had been her nature, once, to watch out for others.

Maybe that's what makes the transition easier than what anyone might expect.

She passes a shallow breath between her teeth, steps into the clinic when she knows Dean isn't around, hand lingering on the wall and unsure how to do this, how to ask someone about her health when she hasn't truly set foot in a clinic or hospital for years.

"I know I didn't set up an appointment," Faye says uncertainly, leaning over the counter, "but I was hoping someone would have a few minutes to talk to me about some symptoms I've had recently."

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attitude: (Default)
Faye Valentine

January 2020

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