The monitor in the medbay beeped methodically, there a friend lay, having been nearly killed by SCP-173.
Kondraki sat slouched in a chair beside the cot, lab coat crinkled, stained with various unidentifiable liquids. Was due for a cleaning anyways. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, his hands clasped around the clipboard holding the incident notes. His eyes never wavered from the pages as he heard some shuffling from the bed.
“Don’t go squirming like that. You’re not gonna yank the IV out, and I’m not in the mood to play nurse twice in one day.”
His eyes finally lifted, Kondraki took in the others state.
“You’re damn lucky you’re not dead right now.”
A sigh passed his lips.
“You’re not even MTF. You’re not even..cleared for that wing.”
Kondraki leaned over the bed, reaching for the cup of water as he offered it to them.
“Drink..don’t choke. I’m not doing the heimlich today.”
He observed as they took the drink. His arms crossed, his gaze settled on the clipboard that rested in his lap.
“Most people who get that close to 173 like you did end up with their neck snapped like a twig. You’re..you ended up with abrasions—how on earth did you even end up with abrasions?”
He scoffed, his thought lost as he picked up the clipboard again.
“How do you feel?”