[color=00aeef][u]Chez Nathan -- outside New Vegas Medical Clinic[/u][/color]

“Chez?” 

Chez’s head jerked up as he snapped out of his doze. He was in one of the tents set up as a waiting room for relatives and visitors to the clinic. Workers drifted in and out, while worried locals sat or leaned against the canvas walls in small groups, speaking softly to each other.  

“Oh…,” Chez said, recognising the young Follower who had just approached him. “Jerry. Glad to see you.”

“You too!”

It figured that Jerry the Punk would be in the wards. Jerry was an able student, especially in the classics and arts, where his real interests lay. Unfortunately for Jerry, in the aftermath of the Old Mormon Fort’s loss, he had been forced to apply himself more to medicine and the hard sciences, to address the Followers’ shortfalls.

Recently, Jerry had been experimenting with music therapy. His attempts had been met with surprising success. Exposure to Jerry’s singing seemed to cause patients to recover and leave the wards as swiftly as possible.

“Did you hear about the new ambassador?”

“I did,” Chez replied. “That’s all anyone’s talking about.”

“They say he came into town with a CSF escort, and his bodyguard took a merc’s head clean off!”

Chez exhaled heavily. “Not a great start, is it? Especially for those of us who wanted change. It’s getting hard to hold our pro-militant comrades back. Whoever this guy is, walking into Freeside and shooting a man’s head off is not the message we wanted to hear from the capitol. This is just more proof the Republic is unable or unwilling to rein in its people in the Mojave. ”

“Speaking of which, Lettie wanted to see you.”

“Oh God.” Chez rubbed his eyes. “Where is she?”

“In Usanagi’s office.”

“All right. Catch you around, Jerry.”

Chez left the tent and threaded through the crowd of Followers and Freeside residents. Entering the clinic, he made his way to Usanagi’s office. He had already lifted one hand to knock, when he paused, listening to raised voices from within.

“... done for you what I can! There are people here in need!” That was Usanagi.

“There are people in need everywhere, Emi. And they’ll keep coming to you, and the victims at your door will flood this clinic and burn up all our resources… until we address the problem at its root.”

“I’ve already given you my answer. I joined the Followers as a doctor. I respect your right to help the Wasteland as you see fit. But I’m not joining your crusade, and I’m not giving you any more of my medical supplies. These people are civilians! They’re just trying to survive. You’re choosing to put yourself in the line of fire - I can’t prioritise you over them--”

“You’re just the same as Chez. You stand there in your white coat, refusing to get your hands dirty… thinking you’re morally superior to me. You’ll let the Mojave die at the hands of autocrats, if it means you can hide in here and play nursemaid. You’re responsible for these people’s injuries, just as much as Denver is! You’re letting these people die. You’re treating their symptoms but refusing to address the illness! Denver and his kind are a cancer in the Mojave, Emiko! The leadership is diseased and the rot is spreading. Do your duty.”

Chez pushed the door open. Lettie and Dr Usanagi were standing almost face-to-face. Usanagi’s cheeks were flushed with anger, and her chest rose and fell with each breath, but Lettie was calm, though drawn up to her full height. They both turned to look at him. 

Lettie said, “Speak of the devil, and the devil appears.”

“Nice to see you too, Lettie,” said Chez. 

Dr Usanagi turned and headed for the door. As she brushed past Chez, she said, “I’m done with this conversation. You speak to her,” and left the room, slamming the door behind her.