--Gimme Shelter [Vincent]

[Dominique Miller]

I NEED ANOTHER STORY. SOMETHING TO GET OFF MY CHEST.
I'M GONNA GIVE ALL MY SECRETS AWAY.
TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR. SOMETHING THAT WAS LIKE THOSE YEARS.
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Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound was constant. Everyday the beep would be in her head. At work, at home, at the grocery store. It's what got her to sleep at night. While she would lay there in bed all she could see was the color blue. The computer screens had a blue background and when she wasn't busy behind it, Dominique was filling out paperwork. Her job was stressful but she's been doing this job for a while-- it's nothing she can't handle. She actually enjoys her job, better than what she can say for her co-workers. Everyday they come in with their burnt coffee, slouched shoulders, and grim faces to do the same thing over and over. It doesn't matter that the patients need to see bright faces, they need the positive energy; they were miserable in their lives and they brought it with them to work. Ugh.

Today, however, Dominique isn't on the fifth floor of the hospital in the Intensive Care Unit. The young nurse was instead on the bottom floor in the Emergency Room. About two times a month, the woman would make it a point to trade shifts with another worker. She understood that working in the ER made some people yearn for a more laid back environment. Upstairs an occasional person died every couple of months but downstairs it was constant. Dom has been in the room when a patient has died, heard their last breath exit the lungs. It's something she's gotten use to. It's traumatic to her as she thinks about the person's family, those who they loved, and she feels sorry for them. She feels guilty she couldn't do more to help that person see the next day. But as she's learned in therapy, she needs to deal with herself.

Dominique walked out of one patient room, put the file in the holder next to the door, and pulled the color that meant the doctor had a patient all in one quick moment. Things had been running smoothly at Waynes Memorial Hospital. They never had anything too crazy as it was a small-type town. There were around 16,000 people living within it as it stretched 13.2 square miles. It was in the on the outskirts of Dublin, the town, and it was a bit more upper class. She was able to live there due to the money she received as inheritance when her parents disappeared, not her shitty pay at the hospital. Waynes Memorial had the best reputation for service and cleanliness, the lowest accidental death rate, it was where a person wanted to go when something was wrong.

The walls were painted a royal blue color with black and white furniture to match. The ER waiting room had three vending machines full of snacks and candy, two soda machines, a coffee station, a children's area, and a big screen that mainly played episodes of House. The vibe of the hospital was as normal as it could be. People were waiting a decent amount of time for a doctor to become available as they are not experiencing a shortage of rooms at the moment. Black converses accidentally squeek against the floor as Dom looks up, aware of the noise she made. Others went about their lives, not giving a second thought to the nurse with zebra print top on.

With each step she took, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, would swing ever so slightly. She was on her way to grab a new folder as the previous patient is all settled and waiting for their doctor to arrive. That trip was wasted as the girl is just attempting to have a note for her sick day. Her vitals were fine and she hinted that she just needs a day off from work. She smiled slightly to herself as she picks up the manilla folder and reads the name.

"Razorblade...?" Her brows furrow after she realizes what name she called out. What kind of a last name is that? It's interesting and it has her attention. Dominique looks up from the folder in search of the man who decided he needed a trip to the emergency room.

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tagged: Vincent Razorblade
words: 718
outfit: shirt and Pants
notes: <3

THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY RACHIZZLE OF CAUTION 2.0. THE LYRICS ARE CREDITED TO ONE REPUBLIC. DON'T REMOVE THESE CREDS. THANKS FOR USING!

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[Vincent Razorblade]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/Vinnyvicious.png) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 0px solid #000000; width: 518px; height: 410px; padding: 0px;, bTable] The day had started out the same as most days before it had. Vinny had awoken with a start and a headache the size of Texas pounding away at the inside of his skull, more then just mildly disoriented as he tried to figure out just where the hell he had woken up at today. Oh! That was right, he had broken into an old abandoned apartment complex last night when it had started raining out, he needed a quiet and decidedly dry place to work as he heated the rock he had bought from the shady looking bastard down the street. He didn't remember the rest of the night after that, but when he awoke the necktie he had used as the tourniquet was still loose around his wiry arm. And this was normal. This had been his life for so long that he didn't bat an eye at the sounds of the mice in the walls, barely noticed the dank smell of old wet mattress coming from more then just one of the other apartments, and was barely even bothered when his stomach started to rumble. But in all fairness, it would have been a good idea to try and scrounge up something to eat, even if he was hard pressed to spend the little money he had made playing guitar and singing on a street corner on anything other then cigarettes or drugs. He had been gathering his dirty, ripped up cloths from the equally filthy floor when a sudden stab of pain felt like it had cracked his skull in half. Vinny shot up, nearly falling back from movement and stumbled a few paces, cradling his head in his hands when another shock of pain stabbed through, "Aww fuck, not now not now," The skinny punk croaked out through the pain and quickly searched through the pockets of the ripped black jeans he was wearing, hoping to find anything that could ease his pain. Vincent fumbled the few pills he had found, cursed again but couldn't find them again when the pain became blinding. There it was again, this image in his mind of some man that wasn't really a man but Vinny wasn't sure what the hell he was exactly, just that he wasn't human. He had been seeing this "man" more and more lately and every time he did it was always accompanied by something terrible, someone always died in these 'visions' or whatever they were. Stumbling through the dingy apartment Vincent found himself in the bathroom, whacking his head off the wall as he watched the "man" cut someone open from belly button to sternum. He just wanted it to stop, this devil of a man looked up and Vinny could have sworn the man was looking right at him. So he did the only thing he could think of and swung, and the vision stopped abruptly when his nerve endings registered that he had just put his fist through the mirror. There was blood and glass just about everywhere and his hand was twitching on its own, and even Vinny knew that a trip to the hospital was a good idea. Taking a deep breath, simply thankful that the visions had stopped, Vincent carefully pulled his beat up old combat boots on and grabbed his coat before slipping out of the building, clutching his battered hand as he went. Luckily someone was kind enough to give him directions to the ER and eventually he found himself sitting in the waiting room, a rag held to his bleeding hand when someone finally called his name. Standing quickly the lanky man walked up to the decidedly pretty nurse, "Oi, that'd be me," The cockney accent thick in his voice as he waved his good hand, poised to follow her so he could be checked on, "I think I might need stitches yeah?" [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location:Hospital Music: No Feeling - Sex Pistols Notes: Ive missed these two [/style]

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[Dominique Miller]

I NEED ANOTHER STORY. SOMETHING TO GET OFF MY CHEST.
I'M GONNA GIVE ALL MY SECRETS AWAY.
TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR. SOMETHING THAT WAS LIKE THOSE YEARS.
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Well... the name same what matched the man that stood quickly and made some odd noise at her. Her eyebrows raised as she looked a bit bewildered at the man. He was taller than most people that came in, lanky to boot. When was the last time he had an actual meal? Dominique has seen people like him come in. Though his hand is bloody, the vacantness in his eyes says it all. He's had a rough life but that's none of this nurses business. She can say that there is something about him that makes her interested. It's her job to help people and he looked like he needed it.

"I think I might need stitches yeah?" She gave him a small smile.

"Yeah, something like that. Follow me, please." She said before she spun on her heels and started to walk.

She entered the five digit code and the double steel doors opened slowly to avoid possible injury. She glanced down at the man's file while they walked down the bright, white hallway and into exam room three. She placed the folder down on the table, next to her computer while she let the patient pass on, directed towards the standard bed with the noisy white paper sheet used for health reasons. She glanced at him, a small tight lipped smile upon her face.

"I'm going to clean your hand up a bit before we start," She said as she went to the cabinets. She knew where everything was and in an instant the cream colored cloth had alcohol on it, ready to sanitize.

"It's going to sting but I imagine you already knew that," She said while she took his hand, willing or not. First she began by wiping any of the fresh blood away in an attempt to see how bad the damage was. They were the standard cuts, none all too deep. He was right, he was going to require stitches.

"Good news is, the cuts don't look deep enough to indicate any type of nerve damage to your hand. But you were right, you're going to need stitches," She looks up at his tired face. "Mind why I ask your hand is like this?"

It isn't standard protocol. Whatever happened, happened. Usually when a patient comes in that had been badly hurt, the whole ER and soon the hospital would learn about said patient. She doesn't see how this man with these injuries would strike anyone's curious fancy. But she was curious. Something about him was familiar, maybe it was his boyish face. Dominique was kind, she didn't judge what a person did. But from simple observation, the man looked like there was more to him and she was interested.

"Here comes the sting, if you need me to stop at any point for a breather just say so," She said lightly before she begun the process of disinfecting.

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tagged: Vincent Razorblade
words: 499
outfit: shirt and Pants
notes: These two were like magic. It'll be interesting to see how they act with each other now that they are almost completely different.

THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY RACHIZZLE OF CAUTION 2.0. THE LYRICS ARE CREDITED TO ONE REPUBLIC. DON'T REMOVE THESE CREDS. THANKS FOR USING!

[/blockquote]

[Vincent Razorblade]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/Vinnyvicious.png) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 0px solid #000000; width: 518px; height: 410px; padding: 0px;, bTable] He followed behind the short pretty nurse....doctor? Nurse, whatever, she was pretty, had pretty eyes and a soft voice and his hand hurt and she was probably going to give him drugs and that was a big plus in his book. Vinny was trying not to stare as he walked behind her, all short and pretty, tried not to focus on much of anything because his head still felt like it was going to split in two and every time he focused too hard on something he swore he could see the shadows of the faces of people he had seen in those waking nightmares. Because they weren't............visions. Or at least he tried not to think of them like that. The hallway was bright, and when they walked past everyone stared at him, all dark and dirty in the spotless hallway basically towering over everyone else and holding his shaking hand to his chest loosely while he tried not to dirty up the clean floor with something as tarnished as his blood. He nodded, not arguing with her but still a little tentative when she took his hand, couldn't get it to stop shaking, and Vinny had to let out the softest hiss of air when she just started cleaning it, all the nerve endings raw and sensitive even to the wiping. It hurt a little, but it wasn't any where near the worst type of pain he felt, his head was killing him worse. "I, well, I 'ad a bit of a nightmare, all disoriented I kinda took it out on the closest thing," And why was he even answering the pretty birds question? Well he was either way, trying to leave out the ridiculous parts without actually lying to her, "Unfortunately closest 'ing to me 'appened to be a mirror," The punk forced a smile, trying to play it off like it wasn't so bad because as far as he was concerned it really wasn't. People got hurt constantly, he got hurt constantly and nine time out of ten it was just him doing it to himself. But she seemed like she genuinely wanted to know, and Vinny wasn't good with that sort of thing because he wasn't used to it, people didn't normally give a five dollar rats ass about him for any reason. His hand twitched, but he forced himself to stay still while she worked, watching with a certain fascination at how careful she was being. Not used to that sort of thing at all. Vinny was used to pain, he just told himself to remember to breath, just deep breaths and it'd be fine, "Your ahh, real good at 'is sorta 'ing," Cockney accent was deep in his words, if anything she probably couldn't understand him, but he needed to talk just to fill the silence, "'Ow'd a pretty bird like you end up 'ere?" It was probably a little crass of a question, definitely out of the blue, but he needed to talk. [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location:Hospital Music: No Feeling - Sex Pistols Notes: .....forever and a day later >>..<<... [/style]

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