It was hard to decide whether it was her fiery curls or plump cheeks that became more reddish once Michael offered his help and expressed his kind willingness to intervene. Crab-red, actually... Maybe it was more or less an abandoned island within the hospital, yes - but they were proud as well. Proud enough to try to scare fellow doctors away, doctors that didn't belong there, nor their professionalism. It was not a place of dying people but of dying humanity, after all.<br/>"Excuse me, but who are you exactly, doctor...?"<br/>Almost as soon as her lips finished forming this question another sharp noise started to filter out from the same room again. This time the program of a classical music channel - approximately with triple volume.<br/>"I'm sure we can handle our patients.. just like you yours.. hopefully..." - the middle-aged woman striked back through the storm and frustrated she left her post again to check on this dogged habitant of the unit...<br/><br/>...Leaving all the charts on the counter at Michael's mercy. At the top of No.55's there was a name written with a pinkish glittering marker, all the capital letters formed awkwardly but still readable:<br/><strong>ALLIE</strong><br/>The below the official anamnesis.<br/><em>Name: Alliana Stewart<br/>Age: 23<br/>Diagnose: ...</em><br/>Well, it was tempting to pull out the chart and get to know more about her, especially that measuring it from her age she could be the youngest citizen of this valley of shadows, somebody who shouldn't be here, really shouldn't.<br/>