Darsby’s pink eyes faltered in their pronounced sharpness for that of only a few brief moments immediately after Anora asked her final question of ‘how..’. No matter the smallest movement, he’d been following her up to that point. She’d likely have felt unnerved a minute or two sooner by the nature in which his gaze tracked her motions. He’d be watching her breath, her heart, the fluttering of her eyes and twitch of her fingers long before she’d show any immediate of sign for change in whatever speakable direction one might imagine. Perhaps she’d think he looked in expectance towards her legs long before she’d decided to move towards or away from him. This all occurs beneath the half-shut monotony clasping both near-luminescent iris’s. Perhaps it was some form of disgust that took hold of him. Regardless, whether or not Anora had caused this would be difficult to determine. He’d looked away and been lost in his thoughts for five consecutive seconds before looking back towards the girl then down to casually examine his left palm. “Woman.. We have bigger problems.” Darsby would sigh, the cigarette never leaving his lips during speech, talking while smoking being obvious habit as it bounces by each syllable. His left hand clenches just before another *Snap!*. The compact revolver Anora had seen in the ambulance before fabricates within his trained grasp. It’s make is simple, wooden hilt alongside a grey, metallic finish. His eyes now raise towards the door, this being made obvious by their small tracking movements not having touched every twitch of her body. Darsby’s weak legs carry him towards the exit, his body and eyes ignoring the girl regardless as to her being in the way of said threshold. Should she try to stop him in departing, or neglect to move from his path, he’d stumble to the side in a motion that would appear clumsy and drunken, but, would prove to be impossible to grasp or halt. One could think his slightest movements were all predestined by precise thought, projected through a body that can hardly keep up to properly showcase elegance. Once having exited, he’d disperse another plume of smoke. Oddly enough, not a nurse nor doctor notices the man. Perhaps Anora is truly the only one able to pay any mind to his lower cheeks being in the wind behind an ill-fitted garb… After two or three seconds of Darsby looking back and forth down either hall, he’d begin heading towards the ER lobby. While treading ground for more than just a few short steps his overall injury would still bear it’s dulled fangs. A slight limp plagues his right leg, his shoulders tremble following each breath, his left hand remains loose in it’s trained grasp of aforementioned weaponry whilst his right curls tightly into bare skin, whitening his knuckles in a sign of obvious pain. Darsby’s attentions were obviously directed towards some other concerning circumstance. Anora could guess she wasn’t his gravest concern, by this, she could likely take comfort despite whatever intentions he might hold. Should Anora not follow him, he’d look back down the hall to give an exasperated gesture for her to follow just before he moves to push swinging doors open into the lobby where our heroine had previously held tightly to somewhat misled worryment. Should she follow him, he’d blatantly ignore what she might be saying to him as he had done in the room with all of her initial responses to him standing and using magic. Behind Darsby rests an ageless river of spiraling artistry born of his lessening cancer stick and dry lips. This grey haze continues to develop it’s elegant and ever-deepening designs rather than fading from view or vanishing into nothingness no matter how thin it may be spread. None pay it any mind, extinguishing it’s existence from their perception just as they do with him. This effect did not spread to Anora, so whatever she may say or attempt to do to him would seem rather queer to those around her. Arousing enough suspicion may attract the wrong kind of health-centered provision. Upon entering the lobby, using whatever drunken movements Darsby may have exhibited before to avoid general people and Anora, he’d look in each of the four compass directions. Found there is an old couple, two distressed teenagers impatiently shuffling about between feverish chatting, and one bright young nurse behind an aged reception desk. “‘If only I could look beneath these fat feet of mine…’-” Darsby would quietly say to himself initially, as if quoting someone else. Darsby regularly speaks like an exhausted college student who’s given up on life in general after discovering their final exam will ruin their gpa and educational career in one fel swoop. Alongside another aggravated grunt, and while laxadly scratching the lower left side of his scalp with the hilt of his loaded revolver, he’d speak to Anora. This is, of course, assuming she followed him to the lobby. He’d begin talking regardless as to whether or not she was already speaking, and, if she was, he’d have cut her short on purpose. All words spoken are projected whilst he’s fixated on the nearest exit, that being the entrance to whatever ambulance may be arriving with newfound patients. The entrance his body was first carted through. An expression of slight confusion has painted itself unnaturally over Darsby’s posture. “So… You’ve never seen anyone else who can use ‘magic’?-” Darsby’s free hand raises to add sarcastic quotations to the word ‘magic’. His eyes still fixated on the door. “-Because, like, if you haven’t then I assume you’ve lived in a place like… ‘this’ most of your life?-” For this remark he’d gesture towards nearby civilians and the building at large as if society as a whole were at fault for whatever condition may be plaguing Anora. His left hand ceases scratching and falls back to his side. “-So, if, uhm, I’m taking all that into account. Then I’m gonna need to warn you of a few rules you should probably acknowledge.-” His overall air of narcissistic sarcasm would likely be driven to a point after the first sentence or two. “One.-” He raises his free hand to jab one finger into the air. “-Don’t look into the blue things.-” He sighs between vapid blinks whilst raising a second finger, as if his issues were further deepening. “-Two. Don’t be afraid to kick some ass, they’re armed… So to speak..-” His shouldersperform an under-enthused shrug at that last statement, as if it weren’t pertinent to him. “-And, three. I’ll be working on a way out of here. So if you could find it in your head to think of at least one or two methods to not get in my way, I’d appreciate it.” At that he let his right hand drop just before it raises again to rub his temples as it seems to often be tasked with. The doors had at this point ceased shaking against moderate winds, in fact, all exits to the outside end movement or trembling of any kind. One might think this building alone had been separated from the outside world via an invisible field of some kind. Locks might not have clicked, but, everyone in the hospital would soon enough find that leaving is an impossibility. Darsby steps forward, limping up until he reaches said door, softly placing one pale hand upon a still surface. He sighs before closing either eye, letting his head fall against its exterior with a gentle *thud..*. *Bang!-Thud-thud..-bang..-* For several moments the successive thuds and bangs of windows in varying sizes can be heard shutting by excessive force down the halls. It wouldn’t be too long before people partly realize what’s transpiring. This isn’t to mention an ambulance is only two minutes out with another patient and Darsby likely isn’t going to move from his current position for roughly another forty seconds as he silently deliberates over whatever it is his exasperated mind may be contemplating. From Deep within the hospital, likely in another ward, someone masculine can be heard screaming. Their shouts are shrill and inconsistent, this isn’t pain they’re expressing, it’s life-threatening fear. Everyone aside from Darsby shoots up at the echoing cry, their separate minds already set to attention by the bangs and thuds only moments before. *Thud.* Darsby gently hits his head against the door he’s found himself practically leaning up against just after this event. The power looks to go out, emergency red light plaguing this particular set of rooms and corridors. Through a nearby window, across one shabby courtyard, another ward can be seen to have fully-powered pale luminescence pasting their chipped wallpaper. What’s different about the ER? *Thud!* Darsby hits his head against the door once more, forty seconds nearly coming to a close as the screaming ends abruptly and panicked murmurs permeate the air. “Alright, I’m gonna need everyone to stay calm. I’ll be here to look after ya’ll while my partner goes to turn the power back on.” Two police officers on standby have entered the lobby from the ER’s patient-care section and stepped into trained action. One brown haired female possessing a southern accent, the one who’d announced their presence, stays behind whilst her caucasian male partner leaves the lobby. “Are you okay, hun?” She’d gently prod Anora from a distance as she was the immediately closest. She’d soon move on to everyone else after acquiring a reassuring response. Darsby remains in his current place until the allotted time ends, muttering curses and something about an ‘idiot teacher’ all the while.