OUT OF MIND² ━━ Bellamy Blake

𝐕𝐈: Crime, Crime, Crime!

┍━━━━ ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ━━━━┑

CRIME,
CRIME,
CRIME!

┕━━━━ ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ━━━━┙

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          IT'S EIGHT IN the morning and Lyra is starting to think she actually might have a coffee problem.

    She hasn't slept at all; instead she's drunk two thermos's of the scalding liquid. Coffee keeps you constantly vigilant. Which is good. Lyra needs to be constantly vigilant now. Whatever operation Chancellor Pike is running is getting closer and closer to getting them all killed ━━ if she's constantly awake and alert, no more surprises. She'll be hyperaware of everything that's going on in this camp.

Sinclair had been with her in engineering until around eleven. Then it had just been her for hours that felt like days, tinkering around with various scrap metal. He'd come back at around seven in the morning and said;

"Wow, early morning?"

     "Yes!" She'd exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically.

     He looked at her. "You didn't go to sleep last night."

     "Nope!"

     And then Sinclair promptly proceeded to kick her out of engineering ━━ which was rude, by the way, and Lyra's taken it very personally ━━ and Lyra didn't know what to do with herself, which has brought here here, to the med-bay. Which, in hindsight, is probably where she needs to be. Her burns haven't fully healed yet. But whatever.

     Swinging her legs back and forth, she's on top of one of the flat-top treatment tables. It's a fairly cluttered but surprisingly vast chamber, overflowing with rusted cabinets and refrigerated storing units for medicines, all charred and half-crumbling due to Alpha Station's violent re-entry through the atmosphere. The med-bay ceiling hangs over her head, lights flickering dimly overhead. She wonders if she can add more power to the circuit board and somehow make them brighter.

Then she almost screams.

The absolute worst thing that could ever happen to her happens.

Her coffee spills.

She stares at the growing coffee puddle on the ground as thermos clatters against the floor. Her eyelids flutter shut and she grips the table tighter, telling herself that it is absolutely not appropriate to go into the med-bay and become hysterical about spilled coffee. Abby might just end up throwing Lyra in lockup, too.

"I'll get it!" Jackson calls, coming over with a fresh set of bandages. "You know, you were supposed to come to medical yesterday. These burns need antibiotics."

Letting out a quiet hiss as he unwraps the gauze from her wrists, Lyra quickly looks away. She isn't particularly interested in seeing her own charred flesh at eight in the morning.

     "Well, I'm a little busy. Pike is trying really, really hard to get us all killed. Which is kind of, like, an issue."