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ways_infirmary2014-11-02 07:11 pm
nita_callahan) wrote in ways_infirmary2014-11-02 07:11 pm
[Visiting post for Beverly Katz]
The infirmary is open for business.
One way or another, Beverly makes it into the infirmary without falling on her face. Which is really something of a miracle, given the way things are spinning around her.
Hopefully someone will be there to help give her an actual bandage.
Hopefully someone will be there to help give her an actual bandage.
Not yet, but there will be in a moment. Enzo spots her on her way in and rushes after her.
"Jeez! Let me look at that! Can you sit down by yourself? Do you two need help too?" They also have plenty of blood on them, but he can't tell at a glance whose it is; they look pretty solidly on their feet.
"Jeez! Let me look at that! Can you sit down by yourself? Do you two need help too?" They also have plenty of blood on them, but he can't tell at a glance whose it is; they look pretty solidly on their feet.
Ava's certainly covered in blood, but none of it's hers: Her biggest concern right now is the raging headache that's starting to catch up with her.
"I'm fine," she mutters, "we're fine-- Beverly's the one who needs help."
"I'm fine," she mutters, "we're fine-- Beverly's the one who needs help."
Beverly, meanwhile, staggers over to a bed and sits down, cradling her injured hand to her chest.
Ava rubs her temple.
"Cool. I'll go hit up a sink."
With a glance at Beverly, she wanders in the direction of someplace to get cleaned up.
"Cool. I'll go hit up a sink."
With a glance at Beverly, she wanders in the direction of someplace to get cleaned up.
"Thanks," Beverly mumbles, kind of vaguely in the others' direction.
Sitting down has helped her balance, but now her hand and head are really hurting.
Sitting down has helped her balance, but now her hand and head are really hurting.
There is a nice lump on her head. She winces when it's touched.
The damage to her right hand isn't obvious until the cloth wrapped and wadded around it comes away. Her middle, ring, and pinky fingers have all been sliced off just above the knuckle. (It should probably be noted that she's got a lot more blood on her than ought to come from an injury like that.)
"Enzo, right?"
The damage to her right hand isn't obvious until the cloth wrapped and wadded around it comes away. Her middle, ring, and pinky fingers have all been sliced off just above the knuckle. (It should probably be noted that she's got a lot more blood on her than ought to come from an injury like that.)
"Enzo, right?"
"Yeah, I..." Oh. Yeah, the... the head can wait. "Yeah. Enzo Matrix. And... Beverly?"
Frag. Frag frag frag. Okay. Detached fingers not in evidence. He wouldn't know how to reattach them if they were, that's specialist stuff, but this simplifies the matter: stop the bleeding. Stop the bleeding. He pulls on gloves and grabs a hypospray full of painkiller and a great deal of gauze.
Frag. Frag frag frag. Okay. Detached fingers not in evidence. He wouldn't know how to reattach them if they were, that's specialist stuff, but this simplifies the matter: stop the bleeding. Stop the bleeding. He pulls on gloves and grabs a hypospray full of painkiller and a great deal of gauze.
"Yeah. Sorry, can I -- lie down? Sorry, I'm dizzy."
This night really did not go her way.
(The details are already fuzzy, though. They went to Lecter's -- office? And she found . . . something there. Didn't she?)
This night really did not go her way.
(The details are already fuzzy, though. They went to Lecter's -- office? And she found . . . something there. Didn't she?)
"Hello, Beverly", Gavroche says from the doorway. Yes, he remembers her. "All patched up?"
"No problem," she murmurs, leaning back, and obediently keeps her hand raised so he can work on it.
After some medical attention, some pain-killers, some wet-wipes, and a nap, Beverly is sitting upright again and . . . well, she's sitting upright. And not covered in blood. And on painkillers. That's an improvement.
"Hey," she says, blinking. "--Oh, shhhhoot. I can't remember your name. Jean-something?"
(Her hand is thoroughly wrapped up at this point, but she moves it under the blankets anyway.)
"Hey," she says, blinking. "--Oh, shhhhoot. I can't remember your name. Jean-something?"
(Her hand is thoroughly wrapped up at this point, but she moves it under the blankets anyway.)
"Jean-Philippe", he says with a nod. "Nice recognition, I was all of about five then."
Beverly lets out a sigh of relief when the painkiller hits. She still winces a little at the pressure, but more from instinct than actual pain.
Thankfully, the bleeding doesn't take too long to slow and stop.
Thankfully, the bleeding doesn't take too long to slow and stop.
"Yeah, well, recognition's my job."
She squints at him. "How old are you now?"
She squints at him. "How old are you now?"
"Seventeen." He shrugs. "Officially seventeen. Could be anything from fifteen to eighteen, but that's what I'm sticking to."
"Oh - no, no", he says quickly, trying to reassure her. "It's probably only been a few weeks at most. Time works funny around here, I've been a regular for ten years and suddenly I'm getting new memories."
"Ah." She shakes her head. "Right. This place is nuts, not me. Sorry," she adds. "Apparently I hit my head."
"Yeah, I saw them bring you in", he says quietly. "You're... looking a lot better."
Very wry: "I must've looked pretty freaking bad."
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