22 • [video|action]

[endthem]

[he shouldn't be trying to use his arm yet-- he knows this fact; it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since the surgery. The pain is severe enough to warrant a distraction however, so he goes for the journal. ...Unfortunately, the thing is resting off to his left, making it only reachable by one shiny brand-new limb.

So... the residents are soon

Comments

[hippocraticly]

[ catching up what happened in the village after a few days of camping is... actually quite an achievable feat actually and McCoy is milling around in the clinic checking out the stock supply. ]

[endthem]

[there is one new patient in pretty shitty shape hanging out in your clinic, Doc. He's painfully attempting to flex his new metal fingers, and keeping half his brain idly spying on you as an attempted distraction]

[hippocraticly]

[ hah, this has never been his clinic! call it creative differences with the owner or a surplus of ego on his part, but he long ago defected to the more advanced facilities in the battle dome. McCoy's aware of the pair of eyes burning into his back as he scribbles a few notes in his journal and he'll turn round to see if he needs anything when he's finished. ]

[endthem]

[funny how that feeling comes with Legato not having to look at him at all. He may not be watching him with his eyes, but he is most certainly watching nonetheless.

His eyes are instead on his newly-attached metal arm, jaw set tight against the pain, watching as the fingers refuse to cooperate, save for a few erratic twitches.]

[hippocraticly]

[ let's see how the good doctor will react when he notices this antsy patient in the background has metal grafted into his skin. snapping the journal shut, he turns around and approaches Legato. ]

[endthem]

[Legato waits until the doctor gets quite close before he glances up, quietly watching him with a very weary and strained sort of curiosity]

[hippocraticly]

How're you feeling?

[endthem]

--Like someone cut open my arm and hung a machine from it.

[ignore the cold monotone. That was an attempt at humor.]

[hippocraticly]

[ he's used to being on the receiving end of a cold, monotone voice. damn commanders. McCoy will need to put up with it for an indeterminable time when he gets out of here and he doesn't let this faze him. ]

Can I ask who treated you?

[endthem]

[hmm. this is a little interesting...]

Her name is Winry Rockbell.

[hippocraticly]

[ McCoy frowns a little. he's never seen her name on any of the rosters -- then again, they were drafted before the incident last year. and it's not like he frequents this clinic all that often. ]

[endthem]

[his brow raises]

...Is there something wrong?

[hippocraticly]

Nothing's wrong. In fact, I'm hoping that you can tell me that. Apart from feeling like you've been churned through those old-fashioned rice picking machines, how else do you feel?

[endthem]

[a bit of a thin smirk at that apt description]

Exceedingly tired.

[and in more pain than he has been in in recent memory, but that much goes without saying]

[hippocraticly]

[ he raises an eyebrow. ]

You sure that's all?

[endthem]

What else should I be?

[an honest question. It's hard for him to focus on and distinguish between his various levels of suffering to pick out what might be abnormal]