[ The text that flashes does nothing for her. It's familiar and cloying to Jill, like gloved hands over her throat, applying just enough pressure that she can feel it. A phantom that isn't long-dead or forgotten, it digs in and shreds her dignity.

It isn't the same. She doesn't choke and sputter as it opens, doesn't fall onto bruised hands and knees; the metal grating beneath her surely uncomfortable if she wasn't so distracted by the feeling of simply breathing. It strikes an axe to her heart and makes her feel ill, but the hollowness doesn't bring anything up. Jill stumbles and finds her way around, used to her mind working quick in situations like this. Her personal belongings? Bullshit. From one damn bodysuit to the next, she's at least not in the one she was outfitted with before now.

None of this makes sense. It's flowing like water, like time, like nothing matters. She'd been hit hard by the rocket launcher blast, barely shut her eyes and come here. Is she in some hospital bed somewhere? Seems likely enough.

She's out before she even catches anyone waking up, too fast on her feet to stick around in one place for long. The first person she catches, however, she'll approach with seemingly no caution, holding it all in and replacing it with friendliness for the moment. Not entirely false, but careful and planned enough to be withholding. Jill raises an arm and approaches. ]

Hey. [ Her pace is swift, parting the distance with ease. ] You know what's going on, here?

[ She doesn't find herself placated by any sort of company and is quick to seek out medical after all that has happened. While navigating through the Pip-Boy isn't ideal, she's used to topographical maps and finding her way through maze-like locations. In fact, it's almost a cake-walk comparatively. Her specialty isn't blood spatter pattern analysis, but she knows something that comes from a body naturally -- even in surgery -- and what doesn't. Some of it reminds her of rooms she'd seen after Hunters were let loose, thick claws raking through skin and muscle and rending asunder, leaving a crimson wave in its wake. It doesn't feel right.

Still, she's in a lot more pain than she's willing to admit even with the virus of hers and the last vestiges of the P30 still running through her veins. Her head is throbbing and she feels like she could fall just as she did in the Monarch Room even though she appears as solid as ever.

Without any gloves on, she's more cautious in touch; the virus will do its part in protecting her, she's sure, but it would be foolish not to take care of herself now. The fluorescent lights hum dimly -- working well enough, so perhaps the culprits weren't too far gone even if it seems to be running on the power of generators -- and they, too, remind her of things she wants to bury. Anything leftover, used or otherwise, she cannot identify. The way the syringes are built are strange and the names listed on the medication bottles are short, simple, and unfamiliar. Jill tries to make sense of a medical chart, but it's missing any information that might be worthwhile. Instead, she goes to the drawers, tugging on one that seems to be rusted shut. She gives it a few sharp and focused tugs, enough that it comes off track and she just barely manages to hold onto it and make sure that its contents don't spill. ]

Goddamn this place.

[ Jill isn't particularly thrilled by the living arrangements, but it beats standing up or going back to where she started in that damn... pod or whatever it might be. Although the mattresses are stained, some with old gore and some with remnants of bodies or worse, she's quick to brush aside a littering of bones and claim a bed for herself, though uncertain how to ensure it remains her own. So, she settles against the the outside of the strange sci-fi doors and waits for someone to meander on by on their own time, canting her head and offering a hey in greeting.

Otherwise, she's found a good way to blow off some steam and is fighting radroaches. She seems to relish in it, mostly barehanded. While some others might not be able to handle it without a weapon, the way she delivers a kick, kneedrop, big elbow, or big boot is beyond compare. It utterly obliterates after she wears it down a little. Occasionally she might use anything she finds including food trays. When a group starts to skitter about, though, she's quick to go for an ally when spotted and ask them to hand her the toaster behind them. ]

Hey. Anyone understand what's up with the medical supplies? Interested in learning about them if you have any info.

Otherwise, please defer to me if you need any help with the overgrown cockroaches (or anything else you might find). If you need a hand getting around them or clearing them out, I'll ensure your safety.

Thanks.

[ Please feel free to ask for a unique starter, PM me, and ask about plurk or Discord if you want to plot or just talk! I'm especially interested in having Jill encounter ghouls or super mutants and the internal dilemma she may face and how she might have to change how she thinks and feels because they aren't the same as monsters from her own world. ]