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

Frieda lifted a piece of ancient door frame that had fallen to pieces during the struggle that was starting to feel as though it had been weeks ago, unlike mere hours.  She flung it through the door like a frisbee and watched it twirl through the air to hit the defunct streetlight across the road.

"Yes!" she cheered, lifting both her hands.  Suddenly from behind her, she heard Steve begin to yell, and turned in her startle.  What she saw immediately after startled her even further: the mutant that had left with the injured ghoul had returned, scrubbed up, and approached Steve wearing a monocle and carrying some clean bandages.

She froze in her place.  Everything in her body screamed that she should fire on that...thing...standing in the clinic, but the smallest part saw it was attempting to assist in providing medical attention, and she couldn't justifiably intervene.  Was she going to take his place?  No.  All she could do was watch.  She swallowed on a dry throat and remained quiet.

Steve turned to Summer, who hadn't stirred through anything.  “You...Go to the pleasure Den and find Edgar.”

As funny as that was, Frieda felt it would be a bit too mean to let a delirious, injured man think the comatose patient next to him was going to reply.  "Hey, Steve --"

“Just shut up and listen, when you find him say the word “paradise” and then tell him to get the medical drugs supplies for you...It’s in an Military medkit, small green box with an white & black cross on the front...."

"[i]Wow[/i]," she shook her head.  "Must have hit his head pretty hard."

The mutant completely ignored the drivel coming from Steve's mouth.  He looked him over and told Steve he was going to cut his shirt open and examine him.  Frieda shifted to peer past the mutant's shoulder and was mostly convinced he were truly going to do Steve no harm.

[i]I guess he is friendly enough.  He did help take down that deathclaw, at least, I think, and now he's helping Steve.[/i]  Frieda rolled her shoulders back and heard them pop loudly.  She crossed the room to tap Arthur on the shoulder.

"Looks like I just lost my job.  Well -- for a few minutes, anyways."  She gestured over towards the mutant with the soft touch.  "Seems to know his way around a bleeder, for the most part, and seems unlikely anyone is going to try and attack the clinic while he's hanging around.  I'm going to take care of the basement situation over at Brandy's and find us some food.  I think we both missed breakfast, hm?"  Frieda gave Arthur a reassuring smile.  "I'll be back soon."

She wandered into the street and noticed all the new knicks, scratches, and claw marks in the dirt and on any of the buildings the deathclaws managed to touch.  Frieda rubbed her eyes and picked up her pace.  She knew [i]of[/i] the Institute, of course, but the idea they could craft such technology as to create a tiny drug to be so effective for so many consecutive hours was just...well, unbelievable, if not for the fact she were experiencing it.

[i]Imagine if the Enclave ever got their hands on it.  ...or, the Brotherhood.[/i]

[i]But they didn't, and never will, and that's that.[/i]

Frieda crossed the threshold into Brandy's house, closed both doors behind her, and rubbed her eyes once more.  She searched the kitchen briefly for a broom and dustpan, then went into the basement to get to work.  A few of the chicks reacted to her presence, but for the most part, they all seemed to be in a feed coma.

"Maybe Brandy will be feeling better just in time to clean up all the turds you'll be dropping after today's buffet, eh, puffballs?"  She pushed the shelves back up and replaced their contents.  "Stop talking to the chickens, Frieda, it makes you sound crazy."  She turned and sighed at the sight of extent of the mess.  Nothing more to do than just start sweeping.