All Inclusive

When Peggy awakens with a gasp, she runs her hand over the nearest cushion, straining to remember just how it is she got here. It's a haze, in her mind, of events that blur together whether from the pain, the zero matter, or simply the adrenaline of it all. She recalls heading to Violet's in order to patch up the wound, but that been before Daniel had opened the door and she'd walked right on through to a strange room that bore no resemblance to that of Violet's home.

She'd managed to get to one of the cushioned seats, collapsing while trying to get out a ragged cry for help. She must have passed out, then, because she's still there and the blood is still sluggish. Pressing a hand to the rebar wound through her torso, she tries to sit up and fails wonderfully in that.

Peggy is sweating, breathing hard, and she sees blurry visions of people who are milling around. It's as if they're worried that they might make things worse, though someone says that they're looking for a doctor or a nurse to help. She lets out a pained tremble of breath and steels herself, trying not to feel like she's managed to find herself in a strange alternate world when a manager comes up to tell her that she has a device and would she like to make a call on the network to ask for help.

"I need someone," she gets out, words guttural and sharp, "to help stop the bleeding."

"Ma'am, that's...yes," the bellhop stammers and heads off, hopefully to finally call a doctor. She doesn't want to be overly dramatic, but there's a part of her mind that can't help but start to wander off towards the worst case scenario, whispering to her about what might happen if she isn't seen to soon. She'll cope with whatever odd little disaster she's found this time, but first, staying alive gets priority.