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| - 9:00 AM Lazarus Offices - The Tomin Kora offices for the Lazarus Corporation are larger than the outside would have it appear. White paneling gives the already sterile atmosphere more of a clinical feel, while the desk is done in a teak-like material. A pinkish carpet covers the metal floor out the front, giving a contrasting look to the area. The room with the resurrection creches is decorated with bright stainless steel. The front of the building has a directory with a variety of different services on offer. Alastair is hanging out in the lobby as usual, sitting in front of a desk slumped over with his armes crossed and his face resting on the upper arm. He appears to be passed out and can be heard to snore softly. An open bottle of pills lies close to one of his hands. Kestrel wanders in from the street, on her way through the lobby to the interior depths of the hospital. The sight of Alastair, however, gives her pause, the Later wandering over his way after a slight direction change. The first thing she scrutinizes is the pill bottle, her lips pursing a bit. Alastair stirs slightly and yawns, lifting one hand and scratching the stubble on his chin with the tips of his fingers. He settles back into sleep without appearing to notice Kestrel's approach. "Huh," Kes says, her head tilting quizzically as the doctor doesn't surface from his nap, then studying the bottle again. "Tryin' yer own stuff out. Fair 'nough, I guess," she observes, apparently to herself. As she speaks, Alastair rubs his eyes with a forefinger and a thumb. He looks up slowly to stare straight ahead at Ksetrel, blinking and half away. "Who? What?" He sputters. Kestrel grins. "Hey, doc," she greets. "Sorry, didn't mean ta wake ya." She tilts her head again, eyeing him curiously. "You a'ight? Look a mite... well, green 'round th'gills, ta be honest with ya." Alastair grimaces and looks Kestrel over, his expression indicating that he finds her appearance dubious at best. He picks up the bottle of pills laying near him and reads the label carefully. "That's funny." He says in a hoarse tone. "I shouldn't be hallucinating on this stuff." "Naw, 'at stuff won' make ya see things," Kes agrees. "Less ya combine it with... wossname... mmm. It'll come ta me." She shakes her head. "M'actually 'ere, dontcha worry 'bout 'at none." She stuffs her hands in her pockets, and shifts her weight to one foot. "Ain't seen ya 'round 'ere before, I don' think. Ya new?" Alastair rubs the sleep from his eyes and looks Kestrel over again, very carefully from head to toe. "No." He says at last. "I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating." He squeezes his eyes shut and lays his head back down on the counter. "You don't actually expect me to believe that there's a real person who looks like that." Kestrel snickers. "'Ere is so, I see 'er in th'mirror ev'ry mornin'." She pauses, then grins. "An' Shep sees 'er nekid every night," she adds, as if this lends any further credence to her appearance. The tiny Later shrugs, and continues watching the doctor quizzically. "I think." Alastair says firmly, then pauses. "I'm not sure what I think." He looks up and scrutnizes Kestrel further. "Knee-high boots." He observes, staring down at her feet. "Skinny legs. Plaid miniskirt." His eyes travel up her body. "Satin gown. Leather Jacket." He meets her eyes. "And complete heterochromia."" "Yea, I know, m'eyes don' match," Kes comments, shrugging, her lips pursing just a bit. "Th'rest's jest window-dressin', I do it cause I can, y'know? Well, ceptin' th'boots, 'ey're jest useful. An' ya fergot m'pink hair." She grins at him again. "Ya gotta name, doc? Most people jest call me Kestrel." Alastair screws up his eyes, and looks again. "If your eyes didn't match, that would be one thing." He lifts himself upright and moves his head closer to her face. "Blue and Yellow isn't a combination that occurs in humans." He notes, half speaking to himself "Now why would I hallucinate a girl with impossible eyes?" Kestrel pushes back her cap a bit and rubs her hand through her hair, clearly somewhat puzzled by his continued denial of her existence. "Ain't yellow, doc, jest real light brown," she says, shrugging. "Least 'at's what I been told." She stifles a snicker. "An' ya still think m'a ...wossname... figment'a yer 'magination. It's kinda cute." "Hmm." Alastair sits back down, and continues to eye her suspiciously. "So you claim." He says, rubbing his chin. "Now as ridiculous as it may be to argue with something dredged up by my subconscious, let's assume for a the sake of discussion that you are real." He gives her a sharp look. "What do you want?" "Yer name, doc," Kes says, grinning. "I asked yer name. Now why would I ask yer name if I was somethin' in yer own head, 'ey? I'd already know it." She quirks a brow at him, and leans back against the side of his desk easily - she's not exactly graceful per se, but there's a definite efficiency of motion there. You say, "That's a good question." Alastair says. "I could be having a drug-induced psychotic break." He rubs his temples with his fingertips. "My name..." For a moment he seems unable to remember. "is Hall" He purses his lips. "Yes. Doctor Alastair Hall."" Kestrel smiles. "Well, Doctor Hall, nicetameetcha," she says, nodding. "Kestrel, like I said before." She pauses. "Say, ya ain't seen a bitty schoolgirl 'bout 'ere 'is mornin', have ya? 'Er name's Bri." Alastair frowns in thought, and licks his dry lips. "Schoolgirl?" He mutters. "No. That uptight little doctor was here." He nods to himself. "Some friend of hers brought in a patient with some boring injury. Oh." He rubs his chin with the back of his hand. "The crippled girl stopped by and had me examine her chest." "...hrm, 'at might be Bri," Kes agrees then, nodding. "I'll hafta see if I kin find 'er. Gotta talk with 'er doc anyhow, though she oughta be fine soon 'nough." She straightens, and stretches a bit. "Tell ya what, Doctor Hall, m'gonna go find th'schoolgirl's doc, but I'll come visit 'nother time jest so ya kin see m'real, a'ight?" Alastair nods very slowly, but doesn't seem to have a response for that. He continues to stare at Kestrel as though not believing she's really there. After a moment he sighs, nods again, and lays his face in his hands. Kestrel grins and sketches a sloppy little salute. "Tell ya what. If ya really wanna bake yer noodle, ask yerself why a fine, upstandin' man like yerself'd go an' invent a girl what had an accent like mine, 'ey?" She winks. "I'll seeya later, Doc," she offers, pats his desk once with her hand, and heads into the hospital proper. Alastair turns his head to watch Kestrel go with a look of blank confusion on his face. As she dissapears through the door he stares groggily down at the surface of the table where his bottle of pills is still sitting. He shifts his posture so that he is leaning with his cheek against his left hand, stretches out his right towards the pills, and after a few unsuccessful swipes manages to catch hold of the bottle. He gives it a flick, sending the plastic container bouncing to send it bouncing away from him and over the far edge of the table. Then he sighs and collapses back against the counter. Throwing both hands over his head, he mutters wearily. "Bad batch."
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