Making The Rounds

"Making the Rounds"

Who: Christiane & Sofia
IC Date: August 1940
OOC Date: March 27, 2008
Where: Arras Hospital - Arras, France

What: Sofia and Christiane go about their duties in the hospital. Almost civilly. Gasp.

Arras Hospital (16 4)
The Grid-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION < < <

Arras Hospital is a relatively modern facility. The building was built about ten years ago, when the old hospital no longer served as well as it should, so the house still retains some of that freshness of new paint and new gear. Upon entering, there's a large waiting hall and a receptionist meeting the clientele. Hallways leading off of this area goes to various sections of the hospital.

It is currently daytime.

Sub-Rooms :
1. Balcony


Out <O>

Christiane arrives from the Out.

Christiane's Desc
A woman of about forty years, in the autumn of her life, but still with a quiet strength about her manner and a spring in her step girls half her age might envy. Only a few lines have etched their way onto her fair-skinned face - made from smiles and laughter - and her shoulder-length hair is still more light brown than gray. She is of average height and weight, with a face that is pleasant but unremarkable. The most arresting feature she possesses is her eyes. They are a deep gray, just a few shades too stormy for blue, and hold a look of intelligence and compassion, mixed with a quiet sadness of one who has seen much hardship over the years. When she speaks a trace of a Belgian accent lilts her words, though its been softened by years in the Arras region of France.
She's wearing a dress of plain gray wool. The skirt is long but not too cumbersome, as the dress is made to be worn for work rather than fashion. A thick white apron is tied across the front of it, to catch whatever manner of blood or other medical nastiness she has to handle and a pair of sensible brown shoes are worn on her feet. The sort of shoes one wears when they do a lot of walking and want to stay as comfortable as possible. A scarf of pale blue, embroidered with tiny cherry blossom-like flowers, is the only spot of real color she wears. It's tied about her head like a kerchief, keeping her hair back and out of her face. A gold wedding ring adorns the third finger of her left hand.

Sofia arrives from the Out.

Sofia's Desc
Lean, angular, almost wolfish. Sofia is of average height, but she seems unusually lean and slender. The curves a woman should have seem to be more angles than bends, but she looks far from unhealthy. Merely athletic. She carries herself with a quiet sort of confidence, which doesn't help the wolfish look at all. Her face is long, and narrow with a sharp chin and high cheekbones. Along with all of this, Sofia has piercing green eyes and thin, pale lips.
Sofia has long, wavy brown hair that is usually pulled back and kept beneath the nurse's white cap-headdress. She wears a pair of small, silver earrings. Along with those, she has a simple silver chain with a small silver cross. She wears a well-fitted blue woolen dress that is cut to allow movement, without the danger of dangling cloth when dealing with patients. Over her blue dress is a white apron, a practical, sturdy thing. No room or time for frills! Around her right arm, just above the elbow, she has a white cloth band with a red cross on it. Around her left arm, is an SS armband. To complete the outfit, she has sturdy brownish-black leather boots that scream sensibility.

Christiane is making her rounds in the hospital, tending to the patients as they come in. She lingers with the French men and women, chatting with them or sharing bits of news from about town. When she winds her way to the area reserved for the Germans her conduct is more reserved, albeit still professional. She's with a German now, putting fresh bandages on the hand of a Schutze who sliced himself during training drills.

Except even these Germans are watched, by a creature not unlike the she wolf that prowls forests, cold and distant. Out of place too. Unfortunately, Sofia seems to largely be relegated to paper work and larger tasks, which is both an honor and a frustration. Mutter. There's the sound of a cabinet being closed. Her sharp green eyes narrow, as she closes a folder and looks up, blinking. Christiane. Huh. She doesn't disrupt the woman during her work, but she is watching.

Christiane gives the job on the Schutze's hand her full attention. If she's aware of Sofia's watching she gives no sign of it. "This is healing fine. Just keep it clean and you should have no troubles from it," she says to the private, before straightening up to resume her rounds. As she turns she sees Sofia. If she's surprised by the woman's presence, again, she gives no sign of it. "Doctor Weir." A short nod of professional respect is offered.

Sofia inclines her head. She doesn't seem to have a lot of emotion on her face. There's a mingling of curiosity and general frustration. The Doktor just nods. "Nurse Morgenstern," She replies quietly. A sigh, as she turns back to the stack of papers and stares at it balefully. Then she realizes it might be rude to be mopey and smiles at Christiane. There's a bit of respect, after all, Christiane has been at this far longer. "How do your rounds go?" She asks, her voice still low, picking up a pen. "Sometimes I miss my rounds. But. There is a third thing certain in life and that is apparently papers." That comment is a bit more wry.

Mopey or smiling, neither seem to impact Christiane's reaction to Sofia. She's always careful to maintain an aura of practiced professionalism when on duty. It likely makes it easier for her to deal with the German patients, and medical staff. "Fine. Schutze Garber can resume his regular duties tomorrow, so long as he keeps his hand clean." She motions to the private she was with earlier. She smirks, just a little, at Sofia's comment about papers. "Doctor Schmidt does keep you occupied," she observes.

"That's good," Sofia nods. She glances to the papers. A little smile. "Yes, that he does. But I suppose I can't complain, he has taught me a lot personally," She notes. Which seems to have pleased her. There is a strange sort of intelligence to her. "Although, I don't mind. I guess. I'm not sure I'll be allowed to do it too much longer," She lets slip then puts a hand over her mouth. Oops. She looks uneasy, then shifts her weight. "Anyway." Hrm. "How … are you?" She's changing the subject there. Smooth.

"Fine," Christiane answers the question simply. "The work keeps my occupied as well, which is to the good. Idleness makes me restless." She catches that slip, her eyes narrowing curiously. "Not allowed? What makes you say that, Doctor Weir?"

"Good, I see," She replies. Sofia just kind of shakes her head. "… I don't - it's nothing, I shouldn't … talk about it, there's paperwork," She waves a hand. "Lots of it." She's uneasy, looking guilty. "Besides, my fiance lives out on a farm. We'd be far away from most people," Yes, that's it. "Although, I guess I could help when people nearby got sick huh?" A faint smile as she opens another folder.

Christiane arches her brows faintly. "You are to be a farmer's wife?" She can't hide her surprise. It is, obviously, not somewhere she'd pictured Sofia ending up. It takes her a moment to come up with an appropriate response. She clears her throat. "Well, country life has its charms. And there is never a lack of need for medical care in rustic places. I dabbled as a midwife when my daughters were growing up, though I could not work full time of course. It is not a bad life."

"I guess… he doesn't talk to me much and I guess he's busy or my letter got lost. I hope he's alright," Sofia admits quietly. She does notice the surprise and nods, "I was surprised too. He was kind to me, although I wish he hadn't been a bully to my friend." She considers. "I suppose not. I am not sure how I feel about early mornings though," She tries to lighten her tone a bit. Heh heh. Woo. Funny? Not really. Her pen begins to scritch across the paper. "I wish I could stay with the bakery now that my brother's - gone," She hesitates. "What am I doing, talking away…" She shakes her head.

For a moment, just a moment, a flash of sympathy crosses Christiane's face. "He is fine, I am sure. The fighting is over in this country now, after all. I doubt your fiance will come to any harm in France." Another twinge of curiosity comes when Sofia speaks of her brother. "Gone, Doctor?"

A blush, "No… he didn't talk to me much even when he was here." She shakes her head. "He's not in France as far as I know." Sofia for once, seems genuinely sad. "… He could not walk. We're not sure." She doesn't seem eager to elaborate. But there are stories. And her not sure comment seems as if she's trying to convince herself. "You can call me Sofia if you so choose," Sofia adds quietly. "Do you have siblings?"

"I see." Christiane keeps her initial response short. She doesn't call Sofia by her first name but she doesn't dip back into formalities, either. "I'm the youngest of four. The rest are brothers." She smirks wryly. "It was a good education in the world, growing up with the three of them. Though we have not all been together in a very long time."

"Mmhmm," Sofia nods. "Wow. I only had my older brother." She smiles a little, probably at some memory. "I see. You must miss yours too then." She considers. Sofia is somewhat more at ease, not seeming to mind the woman doesn't use her first name. But it's a start right? She keeps her pen moving, lest Herr Doktor catch her slacking. "I was always jealous of my older brother, he was smart and had lots of books… he was going to University too."

Christiane nods at that. "We are all scattered to the winds. Though I suppose I cannot blame the war for that. It has been…" She has to take a moment to think it over. "…my God. Ten years, perhaps, since we were all in Ghent. For Christmas, at my brother Albert's. He was the only one of us who stayed in Belgium. He had a surgical practice there. A doctor." She smiles. "He and I were the closest, growing up. Daniel and Eugene were much older."

"I see," Sofia nods. She seems almost like a normal young lady listening, except for that unusual sort of cunning. "It must be neat to have many brothers." She doesn't say much for the moment, even stopping her writing, to let the pen fall to the desk. She puts her hands to her eyes. "I miss Dieter," She shakes her head. And takes a deep breath. "Anyway." A sad smile. "A surgeon? Medicine must run in your veins in a way."

Christiane shrugs. "Perhaps. Our mother was a midwife. Father was a music teacher, though. When I was a girl I thought my future would be in singing but…" She shrugs. Here she is, in a hospital surrounded by French peasants and Germans. Such is life. "Albert went to medical school after the Great War. I think it was a comfort to him. Healing the sick, after he'd seen so many die."

"Oh?" Sofia tilts her head, folding her hands. She smiles, "I wish I could sing, I bet it must be fun." Alas, Sofia does not have the voice of a songbird. Here too, she is, far from home and all of that. She looks thoughtful as Christiane describes Albert. "That's an interesting way to think of it." She rests her chin in her hands. "I- My brother wanted to go into business… he liked seeing how happy people were buying things."

Christiane shrugs. "He was happy enough in his work. I only wish I knew how he was doing now." Her tone betrays a trace of worry, and she physically grimaces for revealing it. She clears her throat again. "Business? Did he want to run your bakery, then?"

"Mmhmm, and sell radios." Sofia tilts her head at the worry, though her expression seems … softer. Maybe she has a soul after all. Or something. Sofia looks down, then nods. "He did. I was cheering for him. I would have stayed and worked… but he was-" She hesitates. "I. Mm." Sofia takes a deep breath, lifting her shoulders. "I think people like it when I bring them pastries and not for shots." She grins.

Christiane allows herself a soft chuckle at that. "I hope most patients in hospital would prefer pastries." Her mood has turned more cordial as well. Which, as soon as she realizes it, seems to make her uncomfortable. "Anyhow, I should get back to work. I would not want the good doctor to accuse me of shirking."

Sofia smiles at the chuckle, she seems happy. Even grateful for the company. Then she looks down at the desk. Then a shrug. "I'm supposed to be in charge, so he'd probably yell at me, although sometimes the male medics- I have to yell at kinda," Sofia points out. Then pauses. And giggles. "Oh goodness. That sounds silly. But- I won't keep you." She looks up then rolls her shoulders to stretch. An awful, almost grinding noise comes from the left one and she winces. "Be well."

Christiane winces a little at the grinding. Sympathy? Maybe. The Belgian nurse still keeps her emotions close. "Be well, Doctor," she replies in kind, before turning away and going back to her appointed rounds.

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