The ward was, for the moment, quiet.

Allegra Clearwater sipped her tea at a table in the corner, the latest issue of Witch Weekly (left behind by a patient!) in front of her though, thus far, unopened. She had made the rounds on all three patients before absconding to the break room long enough to put the kettle on, and was pleased to have a moment to enjoy the fruits of her labour.

The healer did not love working after hours. While it had the potential for excitement—for who, other than the emergent, would arrive after the witching hour?—it was, more often than not, long and lonely, and it made her sleepy for some days to follow. Perhaps the only thing to be enjoyed was the company—tonight, Tilda MacFusty shared in her fate. Their closeness in age had prompted Allegra to look to the (slightly) more senior healer very early on in her career, and she found she liked the other witch very much.

"Tea's done," she said softly as the redhead returned from the storeroom, gesturing to the steaming cup across from her. "Mr. Albright in bed seven needed a dressing change, but otherwise, it's been quite mundane in your absence."