"About a week," the woman responded. They turned down to the lobby to reveal a large collection of agents spreading out into the hallways. They stepped outside into the clear air where several cars were parked. The woman shepherded Francis into one, knocked on the roof twice, and the car began to speed off, leaving the building behind.
Francis watched as it grew farther away, before sitting straight, looking at the ground. He was still worried.
The car pulled up to the ship, and several agents approached the car and opened a door for him. "Craw has returned," one said. "Get him to the infirmary."
"Mr. Craw, please follow me." An agent in a blue pinstriped suit gently put a hand on his arm and started to lead him up to the ship.
The agent hesitated. "There was a bit of a... setback," he said uneasily. "She's on her way now, but they had a little trouble. One of those... beasts, I suppose.... well, one of them got to her before our agents did."
He froze, deep concern appearing on his face. "Is she okay? How bad is she hurt?" His tone grew anxious, and his eyebrows furrowed.
The agent frowned, trying to push Francis into the ship. "I'm not quite sure," he said. "I think it bit into her side fairly deeply."
He continued. He wanted this whole ordeal to be a dream, and he would wake up right next to her as he usually does. He didn't say anything else, but the thoughts in his mind were rushing around.
The infirmary was waiting for him, and they quickly loaded him onto a bed, bustling around him and speaking rapidly. About ten minutes later, if he looked out the open door, he would see a flash of curly, reddish brown hair flash down the hallway on some sort of stretcher.
He jumped up, his awareness coming back as he saw it. He followed in pursuit, ignoring any doctors or medics.
"Mr. Craw!" He would hear the medics calling out to him as he left, clearly not expecting his departure. Poppy was unconscious on the stretcher, her hands resting on her sternum. She was pale, too pale, and she had large bandages wrapped around her waist that were already soaked with blood.
He covered his mouth, unsure of how to react. Of course he was fearful, and needed to know if she'd be alright, but he would just be in the way, and standing there wasn't helping either.
A hand on his shoulder pulled him back. "Mr. Craw, please. You really need to come back to the room."
"Sedative," he would hear the nurse murmur. She turned her attention back to Francis. "Mr. Craw, please."
She sighed, and there would be a sharp pain in his neck as a needle was plunged into his vein. Instantly, he felt his brain slow and his response time weaken before his whole word went black. (Time skip.) When he awoke, he was lying in a hospital bed. Next to him, in a bed adjacent to his own, was Poppy, unconscious and drawn.
Everything ached. He hadn't slept in a real bed in so long. His eyesight was a bit blurry at first, but focused eventually. He exhaled, wincing slightly. "Poppy...?"
