[Video | 002: Trade Negotiations]

[pepperspray]

[It certainly hasn't taken Pepper long to both find a desk and have it covered (neatly!) with papers. Although the backdrop is the overburdened hospital, and although her hair is back in the sort of no-nonsense ponytail that says there's been no time to properly wash it, she looks much more in her element: grave, precise and direct as she looks to the camera.]

The supply situation at the hospital is getting critical. We've managed to stretch things a few more days, but normal resupply rates won't keep pace with the demand in the wake of the fire. There's a settlement to the south of here where some trade has been conducted before.

Is anyone interested in a trade mission? Do you have any useful skills you can bring to bear for one? Travel is dangerous here, I've been told, so bodyguards as well as negotiators could have a role. You'll also need to be able to work with the local population -- this is a show they've been running a lot longer than we've been here.

Comments

[pepperspray]

[Pepper's expression shades grimly sympathetic at that -- New York was left in a not-dissimilar state following the chitauri invasion, and while her talents were otherwise occupied, she was still aware.]

One way or another, the search and rescue phase never lasts long. Hopefully, we'll be able to assist these people with the rebuilding too. But I'll get back to work and await your arrival.

Belated Spam? :D

[abetterway]

[When she does leave, it's reluctantly. She knows there's no more to be done, not for her, but turning her back on the wreckage still feels wrong - even with the wary gratitude she receives, the insistence that she rest a while.

She won't, of course. She immediately sets a course for the hospital, manoeuvring carefully through the debris; she looks ahead through other peoples' eyes to see which routes are clearest.

It doesn't take as long as she suspected, really, and soon enough she's at the doors.

Which open to the stairs.

She flips her comm back on.]

I'm here, but I may need some assistance.

DELICIOUS Spam. :D

[pepperspray]

[Pepper's where she last was, but the balance of papers on the desk has shifted markedly, and a corkboard, somewhat the worse for wear, has been retrieved from somewhere and hangs behind her head as she looks up with a quick nod.]

Whatever you need... oh. Stairs?

[She hasn't quite got the hospital's layout mapped to memory, but she does remember those.]

I'm guessing the route to the entrance without them is still blocked. Hang on, I'll come and bring someone. How heavy is your chair, roughly?

:D SPAM FOREVER

[abetterway]

Stairs. [There's a hint of dry amusement to her voice, but mostly she just sounds frustrated.]

It's about fifty pounds.