we're always running scared but holding knives
Flinching back - because she's not stupid - as she realises that things are not entirely the status quo with her favourite project, Isla has just enough time to try to decipher whatever the fuck he's saying before the seizure takes hold and, well, if everything wasn't chaos before, it absolutely is now. What happens in the next few minutes is a blur; Isla slamming a hand against the main alarm to bring everyone in the vicinity running; measuring sedatives and vitals and how is the machine beeping so quickly; voices talking over each other.
There are a lot of hands, too - some unfastening the restraints, others putting new ones on (maybe some of them belong to Ronin, but who the fuck could be sure at this point) - anything to try and turn Remi on his side to stop him from choking on his tongue or saliva or blood or vomit. Who honestly knows?
And when all is said and done, it's the sedatives that take the baton, though whether they are enough to keep Remi under is beyond anyone's comprehension, at this point. "Can you hear me?" Isla is asking him from somewhere overhead, and there's a sound like squeaking wheels. "You're being moved to your room. Do you understand?" Gods, let him not have sustained brain damage.
There are a lot of hands, too - some unfastening the restraints, others putting new ones on (maybe some of them belong to Ronin, but who the fuck could be sure at this point) - anything to try and turn Remi on his side to stop him from choking on his tongue or saliva or blood or vomit. Who honestly knows?
And when all is said and done, it's the sedatives that take the baton, though whether they are enough to keep Remi under is beyond anyone's comprehension, at this point. "Can you hear me?" Isla is asking him from somewhere overhead, and there's a sound like squeaking wheels. "You're being moved to your room. Do you understand?" Gods, let him not have sustained brain damage.
Isla
