towerofanimus | The Darkness Between Heartbeats

Entry tags:

The Darkness Between Heartbeats

Characters: Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (

oathshackledbird ) and anyone! (Closed prompt for Tear Grants,

melodyoftheabyss , and Jade Curtiss,

sarcasmancer .)
Setting: Room 4-16 on the 16th (Closed to Diarmuid), Infirmary/Collar Fluid Change on the 18th (Open), Infirmary on the 20th (Late & Open), Gym Floor on the 22nd-25th (Open with a closed section for Tear and Jade) and Various during the week he is powerless (the 18th through the 25th).
Format: Starting in prose but pick your poison from there!
Summary: After waking up from dying during the Nyx Revenge Log, Diarmuid takes a few things from his room and disappears along with Mac an Chuill, so that he can finally face that darkness inside of him and find those lines he will not cross as Saber has advised him to do. For the first few days, he will have his powers and be fine, but after the 18th all bets are off when he takes the new collar fluid and loses all of his powers. Wouldn't you know it? Orcs are a lot faster when one is just a human without powers... Once he has gotten himself back together near the end of the week, he can be found in the gym for all those folks who might want to get a spar in with him while they have a better chance to beat him...
Warnings: Angst, references to death, dark negative emotions/angst, mind control, injury, blood, stitching up wounds, mentions of evisceration, and fighting monsters. Others are possible depending on where conversations go. Will update if needed!

Room 4-16, January 16th (Closed to Diarmuid):

The Darkness. It's still there, and Diarmuid doesn't mean just because he can't open his eyes frozen by sleep paralysis as he is. What he means is the darkness inside of him. The darkness that has always been there and that he has been hiding from for...has it really been over a year now? Yes, it has. On January 4th to be specific, though Diarmuid really hadn't been thinking about it then. He had been too distracted by other things like keeping an eye on Waver while his powers returned and thinking about all the things that had happened during the incident with Jason...

It's hard to keep being distracted after Ganondorf's magic pulled that darkness out of the corner Diarmuid had shoved it into and allowed it to possess him heart and soul. Diarmuid could blame himself for letting it happen, for not having dealt with it sometime during that year, but what good would that do? It would just give that darkness power over him again.

It's time he stops doing that. Time he looks into that part of him he's been denying and stop letting it frighten him to the point that his fear is causing to happen the very things he wishes so much to avoid. It's time to find those lines, to mark them, and make sure that he never strays near them again.

It's rather ironic that Ganondorf's attempt to punish him is going to make him stronger instead. Diarmuid is positive of that. He will accept nothing less. Still, it will not be any easy process and he's not exactly sure how things are going to go. It will to take a while and he is probably not going to be the nicest person to be around at times. That is why, as soon as he can move, Diarmuid gathers a few things from his trunk, beckons for Mac an Chuill to follow, and leaves his room.

He has no plans on returning until he has to, and hopefully by then, he will be able to be the strong shoulder that all his friends and family are going to need after this.

Infirmary, January 18th (Open):

Diarmuid leaves Mac an Chuill outside the Infirmary doors when he goes in for his collar fluid change. It's very early in the day, but he has arrived early on purpose. After being missing for two days, it's likely people are looking for him, and he needs to make sure he gets this taken care of quickly, so that he can hopefully avoid running into anyone who might want to talk to him. To be honest, this is probably not the best time for him to be switching over to the new collar fluid, but at the same time he doesn't want to keep putting it off.

At least he was smart enough to switch over to his dress clothes before having it done. Considering his armor is summoned and part of his powers, once they fail things could get embarrassing fast. As it is, as soon as the power loss hits him, Diarmuid can't help but stumble. It's just as disorienting as any other time, but with the added bonus of somehow being much worse. Maybe it's because of his own state of mind, maybe it's because he knows that he can't just leave the floor and have his powers return, or maybe it's because somehow it just seems much more complete this time. No matter the reason, instead of leaving immediately, he takes a seat back in an empty corner of the Infirmary to settle himself for a few moments.

A soft whine and a lick across his hand cause Diarmuid to look tiredly up at Mac an Chuill, before reaching out to pat the loyal hound on top of the head, "Just give me a moment, okay? Then we can go. There's much to do."

Infirmary, January 20th-Late (Open):

His breath comes in shaky pants between clenched teeth as he stitches up the sword wound that starts around his sternum and crosses his collarbone ending near the top of his shoulder blade. Diarmuid has stitched up many wounds in much worse conditions and with far fewer supplies before, but he's been pushing for two days without food or sleep and his now human body is not happy with him.

Not to mention, he lost no small amount of blood getting down here. Considering how blurred his vision has become off and on, it's probably a good thing that he had Mac an Chuill to help get him down to the Infirmary in the first place. Of course, had the hound not finished off the orc that had wounded him, Diarmuid might not have had to worry about making it to the Infirmary. He would have been worrying about having to start this whole no powers week all over again instead.

Diarmuid frowns has he finishes stitching the wound and reaches for his dress shirt. Right, strike that. It's ruined until he can drag himself to floor 51 to maybe repair it. It's probably a good thing he remembered to bring his father's cloak along. It's rather cold to be going without a shirt, even for just a short time. Hesitant to get blood on the fine garment, he takes a long time to clean as much of it off himself as he can...

...and nearly blacks out in the process.

From the doorway where Diarmuid left him to stand guard, Mac an Chuill whines. The animal is clearly worried about him. He knows the smell of blood and so much of it smelling of his owner is not good. Diarmuid makes a soft sound to comfort the hound as he somehow finds enough strength to finish cleaning himself off. Once done, he wraps his father's cloak around his shoulders, pulling it close around his body and settles into a chair, ironically enough the one he had sat in a few days prior after he had gotten his collar fluid changed. Much like then, he plans on just taking a short breather and then moving on again.

The fact that a few seconds after he sits down, he passes out from exhaustion and blood loss says differently.

Gym, January 22nd-25th (Open):

Now that a few days have passed, Diarmuid has grown more used to being powerless for a long period of time, his mind is more settled, and his wound doesn't burn every time he takes a breath. He's eaten, he's rested--albeit brokenly--and is in much better shape than he was just a few nights ago when he passed out in the Infirmary. Not quite ready to return to all of those he calls family and friend, he instead makes the gym his home, carefully working out and practicing with Gae Buidhe and a monster spear that is about the same weight and size as Gae Dearg. He misses being able to summon the spear, but without his powers the weapon is out of his reach. However, his feelings of loss are tempered when he realizes the next time he summons it, he will be summoning the real thing not a glamoured copy.

That alone is enough to bring a smile to his face despite how tired he is, despite the face he is powerless, and despite the fact that he still needs to work out several things in his mind. Those things will all come. They are coming, in fact. Bit by bit. Swing by swing.

Thinking through things while practicing is as natural as breathing, after all.

Gym, (Closed to Tear and Jade):

Diarmuid's dress shirt had not been able to be saved no matter how hard he tried and so he'd made himself a sleeveless long tunic of a similar color as his uniform on floor 51 to replace it, and that's what he's wearing over his black slacks while he practices and waits for Jade and Tear to arrive. Mac an Chuill sleeps nearby and with his senses reduced because his powers are gone, Diarmuid knows that the hound, sleeping or not, will likely be the first to notice when Jade and Tear arrive. That is why Diarmuid has positioned himself so that he can practice while keeping an eye on the dog.

Despite all that has happened this week, he is excited to get to meet Tear again. She might not be the same as the one he had known, but from what Jade has told him, she is every bit the talented and kind soul the other version had been. He looks forward to actually getting to work with her this time.

Various Floors, January 16th-25th (Open):

From the time he wakes up and leaves his room through the whole week he is powerless, Diarmuid is going to be on the move. It won't be until he starts hanging out in the gym toward the end of week that he begins spending a great amount of time any one place, which means that he can be found just about anywhere if none of the above listed prompts seem interesting. Keep in mind that since people know to look for him on floor 100 because he goes there a lot to think, he will be avoiding that floor. Once he has lost his powers, he will also be avoiding most of the more dangerous floors in the Tower since, while he has a lot of his mind, the last thing he wants to do is get himself killed. This latest death was death number seven--not that he will tell anyone who doesn't realize it themselves--and he has now firsthand started feeling the odd effects that come from having died so many times.

Finally, considering his poor shirt got ruined--stupid orc--and he is going to be making himself a new one, feel free to use floor 51 as a prompt after the 20th if you would like!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oddly enough, when Reno started his search for the lancer, he didn't expect to find him so soon, and in the infirmary. A cursory examination of Diarmuid's wounds, trying not wake him, made Reno grimace. It isn't much, and his control of the magic is shaky at best, but he leveled a cure spell at the stitches along the shoulder.

Once that was done, Reno sat on a chair across from his friend, arms folded over his carefully repaired Turk uniform, and waited for him to wake up.

Mac an Chuill follows Reno into the Infirmary, glad to see that someone is going to help his master. He's good at reading most people and he can tell, even if Reno seems...upset?...that he doesn't mean any harm. He sits near Diarmuid and watches as the red head starts his work.

Diarmuid himself doesn't stir at first. He is deeply unconscious, forced there by a damaged body that had to rest now. Eventually, though, the healing energy, weak as it might be, starts making itself known to his mind. Perhaps it's its unsteady nature that calls to him more than anything. Indeed, since he can't tell much about the magic other than it is magic, it feels familiar in its unsteadiness.

"Waver..." The name is muttered softly and Diarmuid's hand twitches as he tries and fails to find the strength to reach out. Once the healing ends, he falls still again for several moments.

Sorry, Reno. He might need a little encouragement to pull himself back up to consciousness fully...

For the most part, the Turk ignored Mac an Chuill, focusing on the man and his condition.
Waver? He must be out of it worse than he thought. Reno frowned, leaning forward to look closely at him, then standing again to check vitals. Grabbing Diarmuid's good shoulder, he shook it gently, being mindful of the stitches. He didn't speak yet, letting him think it was whoever he wanted. Another, weaker cure washed over the shoulder, but it won't help much with the unconscious state.

Despite how careful Reno is being and even with the second healing spell, the shaking causes Diarmuid pain and he winces, gasping softly. However, the pain does help bring him around. Even though he doesn't open his eyes yet, he does speak softly.

"Please...don't. That hurts. I'll be okay. Just...give me a moment," he falls still after that, almost as if the words have drained what little energy he has.

Mac an Chuill whines softly, nudging at Diarmuid's hand. The hand moves unsteadily to pat the dog's head. If nothing else, the motion is proof he's not slipped unconscious again, but Diarmuid seems to have forgotten someone else is in the room with him. Either that or he is just too tired to care.

An enemy wouldn't have healed him, after all.

Trying to stifle the impish urge to play a prank on Diarmuid, especially in this state, he lost out. He looked around carefully before placing a hand on Diarmuid's forehead and bent very close to his face, letting his breath brush against his skin.

Then, in a very soft whisper so low it's doubtful anyone in their right mind would have been able to tell who he was, Reno said, "Come on... wake up."

Diarmuid is definitely not in his right mind at the moment. He hears encouraging words, feels the breath against his face, and doesn't hear Mac an Chuill making any kind of warning noises. That means the person is a friend and no danger. Vaguely, his mind draws back to it that impression that Waver is nearby...even if it seemed like that had been a very long time ago.

He's having a hard time piecing things together at the moment. It's not his fault. Nor is what is about to happen...

"Mo Stór, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. I didn't mean to..." Diarmuid's doesn't open his eyes--it would probably only make him dizzy anyway. Instead, he lets his other, granted dulled senses, guide him as he leans forward to try and place a kiss on where he thinks 'Waver's' forehead should be.

Oops...

Okay, maybe that was a dick move and Reno instantly felt regret the second Diarmuid kissed his forehead. He jumped back and rubbed the spot, frowning. "Oi oi oi, do I look like Tall an' Lanky?"

That might be the worst wake up call ever.

"Hmm...?" Despite the loudness of Reno's reaction, it still takes Diarmuid several moments to fully rouse himself. He is quite shocked when he opens his eyes and sees Reno there instead of Waver. In fact, his eyes scan the room for the magus before settling again, tired and a little confused on the red head.

"Was Waver just here?" Diarmuid sure hopes so because if not things are about to get a little embarrassing...

"Nope." Reno replied, still a little too loudly, rubbing his forehead again self consciously. "And no, that wasn't a dream. Ya just laid one on me. C'mon. Stay up. I don't want ya passing out again on me before I get that thing patched up." If it helped, the Turk was acting like it wasn't a big deal, partially because he was embarrassed as all hell, though the cold attitude he had gained around Waver came back to stifle it.

With Diarmuid awake, he started to peel the cloak away to get a better look at the wound, clucking his tongue at the state of the guy. "I heard you two got into quite the ordeal. Nobody seems to really want to give me details, but I can make guesses. I have a few things I want to say to you."

"I stitched it up. It's fine..." The answer is short, words slightly clipped, partially because Diarmuid is embarrassed at his mistake and partly because Reno is bringing up stuff he doesn't want to talk about yet. He's still working too much of it out. Besides, his brain isn't exactly clear at the moment. Talking isn't going to accomplish much. At least, that is going to be his argument.

"If you want me to participate in this lecture, then you probably should wait until later. I haven't slept and I haven't eaten. I...am not used to actually needing those things anymore..." It's one thing to do them when he wants to, but needing to do it regularly? Very different. "If my participation is not needed, just give me some notes later. I'll pretend to read them and then throw them away."

If he sounds a little more bitter than usual it's because, despite having just passed out in the Infirmary, Diarmuid does remember how Reno had reacted the last time he had tried to give the red head advice. Why should he listen to anything Reno says, when the same respect wasn't paid him?

Reno pressed a little too hard inspecting the wound- on purpose, of course, bring home a point to Diarmuid's state and how Reno was a match for the guy like this.

"Wait until I've said it, then you can decide for yourself. You're in the perfect place right now to hear it. Nice and down, like I was last week." His tone is carefully cool now, his eyes flicking up to meet the other's golden ones. "And probably wanting to be alone. Oh, I know the feelin', Diarmuid." It's rare Reno uses full names, unless they were short.

"I've had to listen to you preaching and going on about honor and everything else. You're going to sit there and listen to me for a change. And when you see Waver, you're going to listen to him." Another cure washed over his shoulder, easing the pain and starting the process of healing. "Remember, when we first met you asked me to let you prove your trustworthiness. I'm calling on that right now. You listen and you listen real well."

He got up and wandered the infirmary for a moment, getting supplies to apply a proper bandage and some sort of salve, and sat back on his heels in front of Diarmuid again. "'It's an overemotional wreck you're begging for. Don't let passion get in the way of the job. It's going to shaft everybody. He's going to go underground and get Ganondorf to help. You'll get all of them killed. You're being stupid. Let my people plan for this. There's no reasoning with a madman or making sanity return to reality. It believes what it wants, when it wants, and how it wants. What makes you think it's possible, when he ignored the words of an entire planet for his own ends? You got to understand that. This isn't some game here, and if you make the wrong move, he is going to retaliate hard.'" As he spoke, his tone grew colder until nothing but the Turk and steel remained, efficiently tending to Diarmuid's stitching.

"Do you remember those words? I told you them three months ago. Now you're... half dead, with Waver sobbing over how he's killed you all the time, half my team is emotionally compromised and Ganondorf and Sephiroth are probably gloating as all fuck. They've got their revenge. I'm telling you, don't you even fucking dare start up more bullshit after this. Do you understand? We don't have the time."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Despite how tired he is, Diarmuid finds the strength to roughly knock Reno's hands away from him. The motion is so hard and sudden, in fact, that he feels a few of the stitches near the top of his wound tear. Pain flares in his eyes for a moment before being burnt away by the angry flames there. However, instead of it being an out of control flame like it might have been only a few days ago, this flame of anger is sharp and controlled.

It seems he has been making some progress in the tasks he's set for himself.

"Do really think I am such a dimwitted child that I didn't realize the terrible mistake I made AGAIN the moment Ganondorf trapped me in his pretty little crystal cell? Do you? And don't lie to me about Waver just to prove your point. Believe me. The last thing he is doing right now is sobbing over anything to do with me!"

It hurt...thinking back to how cold Waver had been when the met in the hallway a few days ago, and that pain dampens the flame of his anger. Reno doesn't need to tell him any of these things. He knows. It is why he is finally doing all of this soul searching. It's why he's here alone learning those dark corners of his heart. Diarmuid doesn't want them ever to be able to control him again. There just isn't time.

"Oh, please. You know I don't lie. If he wasn't sobbing when I talked to him, he will, or has. I can see through people's walls, too, Diarmuid. He wants you to hate him for what he had to do." Reno couldn't be more derisive if he tried, going back to tend to the wound despite the man's protests. This time pulling out a suture pack to replace the popped stitches. "I have never seen him that close to breakdown. There's that saying that we hurt the ones we love the most. You tried to help me in the greenhouse. You tried to help Ryoji. Have ya ever thought maybe what people need is just you bein' there by their side?"

His hands stilled, and he stared with narrowed eyes at the wound stretching across collarbone and shoulder. Broken people. They weren't putting each other back together. They were tearing each other apart. That's what the problem Reno's been missing the last month. They all tried to help.

"The only one that can help you is yourself now. I told ya last time, when I gave you that pin; you need to find balance." Reno sat back and leveled his cold fire gaze at him again. "Seems to me you've been spinning around and around." Standing up, he walked away to put the infirmary's supplies away, and stood by the counter, hands on hips. "You feel up to walking?"

"Maybe what people need is me not being there at all. Me and my pedestals..." The words are angry and hissed and in the end something Diarmuid knows aren't true, despire the fact his anger and doubt wish to tell him otherwise. That is why he falls quiet after saying them, letting Reno replaced the torn stitches even though part of him itches to tell the red head to just let him do it.

"Do you have any idea how long I have known that the only one who can help me now is me?" When Diarmuid finally speaks again, his words are soft and tired, the anger completely gone, the fire in his eyes burned down to ashes, "I know what my problems are, but I had no idea how to approach them until recently. Even then, I put off dealing with them. Other things seemed more important. They...don't seem that way now..."

The words are honest, painfully so as are the next words he speaks, "I...wasn't kidding about not having eaten of slept, Reno. I really don't know if I can walk right now. Not without help..."

"The problem with pedestals, Diarmuid, is that you're supposed to put statues on them. People have a habit of turning into marble." Reno didn't put any force behind his words this time, letting them stand as they were. A lot of emotions could be placed in them; tiredness, resignation, sadness, yet nothing really fit. They were as they were.

"Stay here." And Reno left for the staircase, taking the stairs to the cafeteria and pulling something from the available food for him to eat. He was back within minutes, sitting next to him and holding the bowl; carrot soup, if his nose is still working. "I'll help you, but it's important I show you something."

During the time Reno is gone, Diarmuid doesn't move. What he does do is think on Reno's words, and as he thinks he is struck by a realization--one he highly doubts is what Reno intended, but an important one nonetheless.

"Is that what you are doing?" He asks softly as he takes the soup from Reno once the red head returns to the room. "Turing yourself to marble so that you are perfect, cold, and unbreakable?"

He's piecing it together slowly. The dead look when they had talked in the greenhouse. The sharp, cold mask that Reno keeps showing him now. Even the words that somehow seem detached though they should be full of meaning.

"How am I suppose to believe your words, when you are doing the very opposite of what you are telling me to do?"

Reno's reply is sharp, steel edged and quick. "I'm not telling you to do anything. I'm demanding. As in the same vein everyone demanded that I go on."

It wasn't really an answer to the man's question, but Reno really didn't care. It's immaterial. That's all he had to say, and he brokered no discussion. He only sat back and folded his arms without even a wince for his cracked rib, waiting in silence for Diarmuid to finish his soup.

Actually, to be honest, it's the exact answer Diarmuid is looking for. That answer, through that evasion and steel and sharpness, is yes. However, he knows he is in no shape to discuss this further with Reno at the moment. That is why Diarmuid says nothing and instead just eats the soup in front of him.

It's amazing how hungry one suddenly gets when they remember they do actually need food to survive.

When the soup is gone, he sets the bowl aside, sighing softly before asking, "Where did you want to go?"

"Floor Eighty-One." If Diarmuid forgot which one that is, Reno wasn't about to remind him. Instead, he just stood up and waited, in case he needed to help him up. It isn't a technical lie, either. That's the closest floor the elevator stopped on to their actual destination.

"The lounge?" Diarmuid is confused for a moment, but then he realizes that in addition to being a lounge, floor 81 is also the elevator stop for that block and Reno...is being vague on purpose. He shuts his eyes and considers not going with the man, but eventually slowly rises to his feet. For a moment, he wobbles and then Mac an Chuill is there to offer his large form as something to steady against. Slowly, the group makes their way to the elevator and begins the ride up in silence...

..enough silence that, balanced in the corner with Mac an Chuill leaning against him for support, Diarmuid finds himself dozing off. Reno is sure to wake him when they arrive. There would really be no point to this little trek otherwise...

Reno let the man doze, honestly relieved he didn't have to carry him, and if a nap on the way up is all he needed he wasn't going to deprive him.

When the elevator dinged, he nudged Diarmuid's foot, remembering the wince when last time he had tried the shoulder. "C'mon. We're here, time to go."

Diarmuid would find out why Reno was vague, as he started for the staircase and slowly wound his way up to the next floor, and stopped. Reno knew the power this floor had even now, since truth was real no matter how it came out.

Placing Diarmuid here without doing so himself was unfair, so Reno immediately took off the mask that had appeared on his face- it was different this time. Instead of the black mask that had always appeared before, covering only his eyes nose and extending back to form points at his temple, the mask that appeared was white and covered his entire face. The features were sharp and expertly molded to imitate someone's idea of perfection. He tossed it away without a word.

"We're here."

When Diarmuid realizes where they are going, he can't say that he's exactly surprised. He pauses at the entry, but he doesn't pause because he doesn't wish to enter--isn't the whole purpose of this week for him to learn the true form of his darkness?--but because he isn't sure if he should allow Mac an Chuill to follow them onto the floor. For one, he is unsure of how the floor will affect the animal and for two, he knows it is likely some strong emotion will show itself from himself, Reno or both of them. The last thing he wants the hound to do is attack or grow upset. That is why, in the end, he orders the dog to sit just inside of the floor before following Reno farther in.

He too gets a mask different from the one he has gotten before. Gone is the magnificent bird. While his current mask has vague bird-like qualities, it feels more tribal and more earth-bound than before. What catches the eye most though, isn't the gold high-lighted markings, but the cracks. They are numerous and filled with the same gold as the mask's other markings. Oddly enough, the delicate and in some cases not so delicate lines that result only add beauty to the mask.

It is an odd choice in Diarmuid's mind and he looks at it for several long moments before setting it to the side much more carefully than Reno has set his own. The image remains in his mind firmly even once they have walked away from the floor's entry and left their masks behind.

"Why did you bring me here?" A simple question and probably a good place to start on a floor that forces those on it to speak the truth.

"You need to ask yourself some hard questions, and it ain't going to be easy. What the problem with you is you lie to yourself." That was the why of it. The second Diarmuid had asked, he felt the compulsion to answer. As long as he was here, he added, "You expect people to believe what you say. You tell them things, but you're lying to yourself when you say 'em. Here you can't."

His eyes flickered over to where his own mask lay, cracked from where it had landed, then back up to Diarmuid's gold eyes. The blue wasn't cold anymore, but they had grown distant. "Why do you hate yourself?"

"I...don't hate myself..." The slow words and the look on Diarmuid's face makes it obvious this is not the answer he had been expecting to hear. In fact, the servant had actually braced himself, knowing that he was just about to admit that, honestly, he hated himself.

And then this answer comes instead. This answer that has to be true.

"I don't?" He tilts his head, mind trying to figure out where this truth has been hiding itself. After several moments of thought, finally, something seems to click together, "I don't know myself well enough anymore to hate..."

That's it, isn't it? Ever since he arrived here broken and betrayed, Diarmuid has been trying to find himself again. At times, it has seemed like he found bits and pieces, but he's never been able to form those pieces into a whole. Instead, they have just floated around, shadowed by the darkness that has been building inside of him this whole time.

But not knowing oneself is different from hate. Even if he is just learning what hate is, he does know that much.

"Well, that's a start." Honestly, Reno wasn't all that surprised to hear that answer. It seemed almost... normal, to hear it. In fact it felt downright familiar, but he couldn't place where or why it seemed familiar. He decided to stop thinking about it, and focus on the task at hand.

"Why do ya act like you do hate yourself, Diarmuid? Or maybe, why are you saying you don't know yourself, instead of just accepting who you are? Y'know people got what they call good and evil in them, why are you so surprised at yours and tryin' to block it instead of using it? It's part of you."

Some of his questions surprised even him, but it's obvious, isn't it? The man has been dragging himself through hell trying to punish himself for the wrong things, and Diarmuid was no demon.

Infirmary 20th

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