A light flickered pallidly. The cold white tiles of the hospital hallway bespoke both rigid cleanliness and an unsettling facade; a crusade to cover up anything unsightly. A female's pleasing voice bounces pristinely off these walls. "Hey Suzanne. Have you heard about the patient in Room 116?" A fair dark-haired woman turned her head at the greeting, shook her head and asked why, what about them? The other gal, a strawberry blonde with a high voice named Elaine, answered after making a show of looking around. "They say he can't die," she whispers, savoring the gossip. A rumble of thunder in the distance made her glance unhappily out the window. Suzanne raised an eyebrow but didn't voice her doubt. Who was she, wary of even her own cynicism, to deny people their fancies? Eager to divert her attention, she looked at the main entrance and witnessed it begin to rain beyond the glass. A tall man wearing a long, dark coat walked through the doors a moment after, shooting a look over his shoulder, probably wondering at his small fortune of not having to suffer any of the downpour.