[color=00aeef]FRIEDA RICHTER[/color] - Salem Clinic - mid afternoon

Frieda stood fast at the door to the church, watching everyone and everything that went by.  Not so much as a radroach reared its head while she watched.

Guard duty wasn't one of her typical posts, but she'd done it often enough.  Holy [i]shit[/i] was it ever boring, though.

Her attention was broken by a young man, pale as paper, clambering over to the church entrance.  He saw her and pleaded, "Please get me the doctor...I need him quick..." He saw a bin by the door, and threw up again.

Frieda stepped away, recoiling with both her hands up.  "Whoa there, bub.  Seems a bit too early to be puking due to drinking...or did you drink out of the ocean, or something?"  She raised a finger to her own lips, the combination of the actual vomit in front of her and the idea of drinking ocean water, made her feel queasy.

Arthur spoke from beside her.  "What's wrong? Are you sick? Or is it venom?" He sputtered out, trying to get whatever information he could. 

"Oh!  You're...awake," Frieda murmured, wondering how she hadn't notice he had walked up behind her.  "He's sick, all right -- wait, did you say venom?"  She looked at the patient, then back at the doctor.  "He [i]did[/i] just come from the direction of the water.  Only poisonous wildlife ever documented were some advanced mirelurks, but if our friend here were running from one, it'd be in our sights by now.  ...oh, dear," she sighed, moving her feet out of the way once more as the young man heaved into the bin.  "Look, ahh, why don't you...bring that, yes, there you go," she cooed, placing the bin firmly into his hands, "and seat yourself just over here so the doc can get a look at you, hmm?"  Frieda guided the man to the nearest chair.