transportation back to your... district house. It doesn't look like it's light out yet, so let's see about finding the night nurse. Maybe she can help with some of this?”
Gwen sat up carefully, chest sore from her aborted punch into the other woman's sternum, but otherwise she felt alright, surprisingly. Carefully she hung her feet over the edge of the bed and slid to the floor, the hand rail having been left down on both sides for the last day. That was good, because she still had doubts about being able to work the mechanism on it. She'd looked before, but couldn't find a latch or anything that looked like a catch mechanism at all.
Her legs held, which shocked her a little, after days of bed rest. The sound waves or whatever must have helped her keep her muscle tone at the same time as helping her heal faster. Handy. It meant she could probably go to the bathroom now, instead of using a bed pan. Something worth getting up for. She could go in front of the nurse, but it wasn't exactly her favorite thing. If it had been, she'd be worried about herself.
Walking carefully to the door, she put her head out, looking up and down the hallway. Seeing a nurse, Gwen waved her over and motioned her inside the room, keeping her voice low, in case other people were still sleeping.
“Detective Westmorland had a breakthrough in a pressing case while she slept. She'll need food and her clothing as well as transportation back to her district house. I know that this isn't your job, but since this may literally be a matter of life and death...” Her voice sounded stronger than it had, and she breathed more easily than she'd remembered doing here so far.
The nurse, wide-eyed, nodded and left.
It seemed that the silent nurse felt they needed more for Bethany than what she'd listed off, coming back not only with her clothing, but a small wicker basket of toiletries as well, and told them she'd be back shortly with food.
Gwen still wasn't up to helping her brush her teeth or hair, but the other woman managed just fine when reminded to do something, as if her brain just had so much going on that simple actions had to be coached in her world.
“Bethany, just how much of your mind are you using to figure out this case?” She wondered out loud, not really expecting an answer to such a strange question. It was probably too rude to ask anyway.
The other woman stopped brushing her hair, looked into the distance, and spoke clearly after a few seconds.
“At any given moment, the amount of activity in my mind that addresses some aspect of the case at hand, while in this work mode, approaches ninety-four percent. Not including basic biological functions needed for survival.” Then she stood, brush in hand, waiting again.
“Oh. Remember to finish brushing your hair,” Gwen told her.
Interesting. So, this woman wasn't handicapped at all, not even autistic probably, she simply focused almost all of her processing power on the case at hand, making it nearly impossible for her to do anything else not related to it without someone reminding her. No wonder the others kept talking about her needing a keeper of some kind.
By the time Bethany had finished brushing her teeth, and her hair – which Gwen tried to mimic herself, the hair brushing felt unfamiliar and pulled at her left pectoral muscle more than a bit, even using her right hand for the task – the food came. The nurse brought two trays, each identically filled. It was still early for Gwen, but maybe it was rude to make the other woman eat alone?
She got Bethany to eat all of her food easily enough, simply suggesting she do so.
The other woman merely stood when she was done, not just waiting, she realized, but chasing down every possible lead in her mind somehow. Her standing around didn't mean lack of activity at all, instead it
Gwen sat up carefully, chest sore from her aborted punch into the other woman's sternum, but otherwise she felt alright, surprisingly. Carefully she hung her feet over the edge of the bed and slid to the floor, the hand rail having been left down on both sides for the last day. That was good, because she still had doubts about being able to work the mechanism on it. She'd looked before, but couldn't find a latch or anything that looked like a catch mechanism at all.
Her legs held, which shocked her a little, after days of bed rest. The sound waves or whatever must have helped her keep her muscle tone at the same time as helping her heal faster. Handy. It meant she could probably go to the bathroom now, instead of using a bed pan. Something worth getting up for. She could go in front of the nurse, but it wasn't exactly her favorite thing. If it had been, she'd be worried about herself.
Walking carefully to the door, she put her head out, looking up and down the hallway. Seeing a nurse, Gwen waved her over and motioned her inside the room, keeping her voice low, in case other people were still sleeping.
“Detective Westmorland had a breakthrough in a pressing case while she slept. She'll need food and her clothing as well as transportation back to her district house. I know that this isn't your job, but since this may literally be a matter of life and death...” Her voice sounded stronger than it had, and she breathed more easily than she'd remembered doing here so far.
The nurse, wide-eyed, nodded and left.
It seemed that the silent nurse felt they needed more for Bethany than what she'd listed off, coming back not only with her clothing, but a small wicker basket of toiletries as well, and told them she'd be back shortly with food.
Gwen still wasn't up to helping her brush her teeth or hair, but the other woman managed just fine when reminded to do something, as if her brain just had so much going on that simple actions had to be coached in her world.
“Bethany, just how much of your mind are you using to figure out this case?” She wondered out loud, not really expecting an answer to such a strange question. It was probably too rude to ask anyway.
The other woman stopped brushing her hair, looked into the distance, and spoke clearly after a few seconds.
“At any given moment, the amount of activity in my mind that addresses some aspect of the case at hand, while in this work mode, approaches ninety-four percent. Not including basic biological functions needed for survival.” Then she stood, brush in hand, waiting again.
“Oh. Remember to finish brushing your hair,” Gwen told her.
Interesting. So, this woman wasn't handicapped at all, not even autistic probably, she simply focused almost all of her processing power on the case at hand, making it nearly impossible for her to do anything else not related to it without someone reminding her. No wonder the others kept talking about her needing a keeper of some kind.
By the time Bethany had finished brushing her teeth, and her hair – which Gwen tried to mimic herself, the hair brushing felt unfamiliar and pulled at her left pectoral muscle more than a bit, even using her right hand for the task – the food came. The nurse brought two trays, each identically filled. It was still early for Gwen, but maybe it was rude to make the other woman eat alone?
She got Bethany to eat all of her food easily enough, simply suggesting she do so.
The other woman merely stood when she was done, not just waiting, she realized, but chasing down every possible lead in her mind somehow. Her standing around didn't mean lack of activity at all, instead it
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