The price of investigation

If Jessica wasn't going to look into IGH, she was. She had a few leads, a few people who might know people who might know people... It was almost dizzying following her mental web.

Trish had used a few connections to get the names and addresses or workplaces of people that might be able to help find out something on IGH. Doctors and receptionists who'd been on duty when Jessica had gone into the hospital etc.

Which, after following a chain of former employers, led her to a bored looking receptionist in a slightly broken down building; it was some kind of gym from what she'd read online, but it was empty enough that she doubted it'd be in business for much longer.

"Hi," Trish said, approaching the desk. "Are you Michael Stockford?"

"Mm?" he said.

He looked up from his phone, apparently half-asleep. Slowly he tilted his head, staring at Trish slightly.

"Can I talk to you about when you were a hospital receptionist?" Trish said.

"Got nothing but time," Michael said. He gestured around the lobby, then peered back at Trish. "Are you- Patsy?"

"It's Trish," she said.

"Right, right!" Michael said. he sat up straighter. "And you care about me being a receptionist?"

"I care about one of the people who'd been admitted when you were," Trish said. "She'd have come in from a car crash, a company called IGH paid her bills. I know it's a long shot, but if you remember anything..."

"The weird stuff sticks in your head," Michael said. he paused. "But I don't know how much I can really talk about, confidentiality and all that."

Trish hesitated. She should have expected as much.

She glanced around the abandoned building for a moment; at least there was one thing that usually greased the wheels of conversation.

"This place looks like it could do with a bit of fixing up," Trish said. "You can't be making much of a profit."

"I... guess not," Michael said.

"How much do you think'd help it? Or help you, your wages must've taken a hit if this is how the place looks," Trish said. "I'm sure you could pay me back."

Michael paused. Was she serious? Did she seriously want a random bit of trivia from back when he'd worked at the hospital so much that she'd pay?

Nah, no way.

"This place is closing soon anyway," Michael said. "Wouldn't be much point."

"Oh," Trish's face fell. Wait, she was serious?! "How about just you? Tide you over, until..."

"I'm not..." he paused. "How much are you offering?"

"Name it," Trish said.

"Show me your tits," Michael said.

He'd meant it as little more than a crude joke. He got bored just sitting around here all day, for the measly paycheck; it wasn't like he needed the money, he lived with family, he just wanted to bring in some pittance.

What he thought would happen was that Trish would roll her eyes and he'd likely just apologise for an inappropriate sense of humour. He didn't expect to see Trish Walker of Trish Talk falter, apparently seriously considering.

God, how much did she want that information?

"And that- that'll be enough?" Trish said, cheeks reddening slightly. "You do actually remember, right?"

"You're serious?" Michael said, eyes widening.

Trish faltered. Oh god, she should have insisted he take cash, why had she even-

"You probably prefer to be paid-" Trish tried.

"No way," Michael said. "I can get cash whenever, this is once in a lifetime. I can tell you the administrator that would've overseen my work, she kept a back-up at home, she can definitely tell you what I want, but that's my price."

Trish hesitated. Damn it, she'd decided to investigate, she had to follow her leads. This was the first hint she'd gotten of anything.

"If- is there a more private room?" Trish said.

"No, here," Michael said.

"Here's the..." Trish's voice trailed off; she glanced behind her. A large pair of glass double doors opened onto the street outside.

"Barely anyone comes in," Michael said. That, and he didn't feel like walking just then. "Go on."

Idly, he scribbled a name and address onto a post-it note, almost tantalising.

Trish hesitated, then flushed. Damn it.

Nervously she glanced over her shoulder again, then undid her jacket. Biting her lip, she unbuttoned her top, keeping it closed as best she could, cheeks getting warmer.

Why was she doing this? Trish swallowed, glanced back around the lobby again to make sure she was alone, then gripped a side of her top and jacket in each hand and held it open.

"Properly," Michael said.

Fuck. She still had her bra on; quickly, with one hand, she pushed it down rather than took it off.

Leaving Trish Walker standing in the broken down lobby with her tits exposed, bra pushed down beneath them and her top held open. Michael didn't even pretend not to stare.

Her face flushed a bright red. A stranger was seeing her chest, and it still felt like anyone could walk in, no matter how poorly maintained the building was.

She just prayed no one watched her expose herself from the street outside.

After far, far too long Trish cleared her throat and awkwardly closed her top and jacket, blushing.

"Is- is that enough?" Trish said.