...Currently, with thirty minutes before the next dose, she is drifting in and out. Atticus, whose camp around a chair beside her bed, must have slipped out for a moment. Time and bladder wait for no man. Caliopa is pale, the bruising spectacular, and the tubing distressingly omnipresent. At some point, Carl has slipped in. His movements are naturally soundless in the best of times thanks to that funky...

... there is evidence that Atticus has been practically living here, and perhaps he has stepped out for a moment. The bed is surrounded by machines that emit soft beeping noises. The person in the bed, Caliopa, looks smaller for the colour of her skin and the array of tubes coming from her. Some lead to the machine that makes the soft beep, monitoring her closely. She is sleeping, lying on her back,...

...and once Atticus is gone, she will sit herself in a chair near to Cali's bed, her vigil starting without Kid actually looking towards the woman. Since she's arrived, it's been so. For the most part, Caliopa has been in a deep, drugged sleep, less restless than during Atticus' vigil but with less conscious moments. All the tubes are still there, and the fluid drips into her hand. Machines do occasional...

...headset on and turned low, a magazine in his lap and his left hand gently resting on Cali's. For the first time since he came in, in fact since Kalvin picked her up and put her in the ambulance, Caliopa stirs. Her face is still pale, the freckles standing out against her skin and she seems to have tubes everywhere, from the fluids going into the back of her hands, to the tube in her mouth forcing...

...off his hands. 'Dinner's on," he calls as he walks the plates over to the counter and puts them down with the steak sauce and ketchup, the forks and knives and glasses. "Come and get it," he adds. Caliopa emerges from the bedroom, drying her hair with a towel as he calls and she smile brightly at him, her eyes lighting up. She hops onto one of the stools, eyeing his food with appreciation and reaching...

...helix. The place is absolutely and completely spotless with every single thing, no matter how small having a place of order and a place to be. Evening comes, and as the fog rolls in, so does Caliopa. Dressed in her coveralls and boots, covered by a large coat into which she huddles from the cold, her hair is tied up in a practical, if inelegant, ponytail. For a little while she paces up and...

...wants to get as much life out of their targets as they can. Costs are modest: 10 credits an hour for the first range, 100 credits an hour for the second and third. Later in the afternoon and Caliopa has been here for an hour or two, firing off a steady stream of practice shots. At this moment in time, she is stripping down her weapon, a white polished weapon, with a silver plate on the stock...

...on their breaks. Joachim is one of the latter. Removing his wet and snowy robe to reveal a white lab-coat, khaki pants, and black collared shirt, he moves to carve out a small area to himself. Caliopa is one of those coming in to relax, or to think in the peace of the gardens. Her heavy winter coat is unbuttoned as she walks, revealing oil stained coveralls. She has her hands pushed deeply into...

...on their breaks. Joachim is one of the latter. Removing his wet and snowy robe to reveal a white lab-coat, khaki pants, and black collared shirt, he moves to carve out a small area to himself. Caliopa is one of those coming in to relax, or to think in the peace of the gardens. Her heavy winter coat is unbuttoned as she walks, revealing oil stained coveralls. She has her hands pushed deeply into...

...odd occasion where someone is actully coming to visit him, savoring the unexpected unknown quality of it, before saying, a bit loudly. "Come in!" Hesitation before the door opens cautiously. "Renos?" Caliopa's voice, and her head poking in through the gap. "Uh, I figure I owed you an apology." Speaking even as she brings the rest of herself through the doorway, closing it behind her. "It was right...