ArchivedLogs:At Once

At Once
Dramatis Personae Bruce, Lucien, Matt, Rasheed
In Absentia	2015-12-01 "{We have quite a glut of volunteers.}" (Part of Flu Season TP.)
Location <NYC> Rasheed's Lab - Toure Pharmaceuticals - Brooklyn
Gleaming and polished and state-of-the-art, this lab is spacious and well-equipped. There are a number of workspaces, some with biosafety cabinets, some with holographic or conventional computer terminals. A number of storage cabinets sit against one wall; spectrometers and other equipment are found around the counters. Bruce looks like he hasn't slept in days. His wavy black hair hangs unruly over deeply shadowed eyes, his glasses tucked into the breast pocket of his maroon button-up shirt. He wears a very rumpled lab coat and charcoal trousers with a not-overly noticeable coffee stain along one thigh. At the moment he has a custom-designed semicircular holographic interface wrapped around himself, displaying several charts in constant flux. Most of them are monitoring vitals, but one is a detailed EEG readout. He scribbles notes incessantly with a stylus, his eyes flicking every so often to the subject supplying the readouts in front of him. In front of Bruce, Lucien does not look particularly full of vigor, at the moment. All the leads coming out of him conspire to make him seem even more sickly than his pallor and shakiness already would. The calm blank state of his expression would suggest sleep, if not for the recent tremors and current EEG readings that more definitively indicate postictal. His jaw is tensing now, though, a slow clench to his eyes just before they open. "Hngh," is -- very eloquent. His head rolls to the side, pressing his face as best he can into his pillow. Matt is standing beside Lucien, shifting from one foot to the other from time to time. He *has* a chair, but does not seem interested in using it. His hands grip the rail of the bed, knuckles white and his teeth grind together, slow and quiet. When his brother's eyes open, he reaches out to touch him, but catches himself and holds back. The hand clenches, drops to his side. "Luci," he calls softly instead, green eyes wide with concern. Near Bruce, Rasheed is frowning at a somewhat similar display, though he's set his up stacked like several monitors in a triptych around him. His permanent slouch, haggard eyes, drawn expression, haven't much changed lately, though there is a more restless twitch through his fingers. His eyes shift, looking very briefly from one readout to another. Far less frequently at Lucien. "{Better than the others.}" Though he says this in quiet Arabic, shortly after a digitized voice translates it for him into French. Bruce nods his agreement after the translation comes through. "{Even so, this would have...}" he says in French, trailing off as he glances at the Tessiers. "{Well. The side effects are a bit extreme.}" The computer obligingly renders his words into only slightly awkward Arabic. Lucien closes his eyes again, muscles clenching up as he groans. His fingers curl downwards, gripping tight against the sheets. "{Far /less/ extreme,}" he finally replies, sluggishly, "{than the alternative. And my brain is. Far more susceptible to seizure than most.}" Matt finally does lay a hand on Lucien, though he places it on his chest, where plenty of fabric separates their skin. "{Are you moving to a trial on actual patients now?}" In quick, nervous French, the question should, contextually, be directed at Rasheed. Matt is not looking at Rasheed, though. He's not really looking at anyone, eyes fixed on the black ring on Lucien's hand. Now Rasheed's eyes finally do flick up from his display, focusing through the holograph on the brothers. Then slowly settling back down. "{We have quite a glut of volunteers.}" Bruce pulls the folded glasses from his pocket and dons them with excessive care. "{We should send out the call at once, then.}" His words come tight and clipped. "{Write something up about the dangers. Set up extra facilities and personnel to monitor them. And security.}" Lucien relaxes his grip on the sheets and shifts his hand upward, fingers resting very close to Matt's without touching yet. He pushes out a slow breath through his teeth at Rasheed's statement. His eyes open. Lift to Matt, fixing on his brother's face intently. "{At once.}"