ways_infirmary | (no subject)

(no subject)

Hank is moving around the Infirmary, checking on the patients there. It has been a long week and there are moere patients currently then the place has ever hosted before. He stops to talk to a few of them, but keeps moving, trying to make sure all is well.

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She rakes one hand through her hair, shoving it back from her eyes, and nods slightly. She'll probably even be able to force herself to come back. She'll be grouchy about it, certainly, but still...

"Thank you..."

He nods. And he will try to make it as painless and as little constricting to her freedom or privacy as possible.

"You are welcome, Max. Whatever else, I am your friend and I am a doctor. I will help. Now go, get on out of this place and eat something, get some fresh air. I am sure you have betetr places to be then talking to a blue-furred sentimentalist."

She finishes the water and slides off of the bed, masking her relief when she finds that her legs do hold her. She turns towards the door, and then pauses, missing the familiar weight of the knives she usually carries. "Oh...do you have my weapons, or did you give them to Logan to hold?"

In her opinion, this is clearly a sane and normal question.

He blinks, then nods.

"Sorry, I forgot about them. Hang on."

And he heads to the back of the Infirmary, unlocking the weapons locker and retrieving her weapons, then relocking it and returning.

He hands them over.

"Here you go. Anytime someone stays here we lock their weapons in a locker for the safety of all involved. Besides they can't be fired in here anyway. A suppression system is active."

She grins slightly. "Don't use anything that needs to be fired, doc." It's true - all she'd had were two knives. "I don't like guns."

She glances down, uncomfortable. "Again, thanks. I'll be back in a little while..."

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