I've got Blunt Force Head Trauma. Isn't that great!? ((Hospital Wing, Semi-Closed RP))
((Warning: Linked thread contains potentially NSFW language (just the proverbial f-bomb). Closed RP for now, but there will be a thread later for anyone who wants to visit Steph that would make up an excuse tofeasibly be in the hospital wing!))
Any and all involved parties would agree that it’s been a weird coupla days for Ray Kowalski Vecchio. ( Read more... )
Any and all involved parties would agree that it’s been a weird coupla days for Ray Kowalski Vecchio. ( Read more... )
To put it simply, Carla hadn't been in the best mood lately. So when a guy crashed in the doors propping some kid up, she didn't exactly greet him with sunshine and puppies. But Carla was nothing if not professional.
"Did you want to place an order? Because the drive-thru's broken right now." Okay, maybe she was just a little pissy. But even as she spoke, she slid an arm around Steph and helped the girl into a bed.
Frowning, Carla pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to Steph's chest. "What happened?" she demanded, glowering at Ray. Hey, pretty teenage girl gets dragged into the ER Wing looking like a punching bag? Kind of suspicious, especially when a weaselly looking guy was the one who did the dragging. She gave Ray her best 'no nonsense' look before bending over Steph, shining a light into the girl's eyes. Concussion for sure. Damn it, if this guy had hit her, Carla was going to take him out.
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Ray backs off and lets the nurse (who was very much looking like she could beat him up. Was this emasculate Ray Day?) do her thing.
"Hey! That's what I'm trying to find out!," Ray says, immediately on the offensive. He whips out the badge, looking none to happy that the nurse is insinuating he's a child beater. "Chicago P.D. I found her walking to the castle, coming out of the woods. I ask what happened, she mumbles something about getting into a fight. Then she clams up."
"After I barfed on your shoes," the kid helpfully reminds him. Thanks, kid.
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Grimacing as she discovered a dislocated shoulder, Carla set about making up a chart and getting Steph hooked up to an IV of pain potion. "You threw up?" she asked. "That would be the concussion talking. Which wouldn't be a bad idea, there, hon." She gave Steph a stern smile. "I need to know what happened."
Sparing Ray another look, Carla arched a brow at the badge. "Long way from home, aren't you, officer?" But she backed off a bit. Fine. A cop. "If you want to take a seat," Carla nodded to a nearby chair, "you can take her statement when I'm done." And not a second before.
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Oh, pain potion. It was the greatest thing on a planet. Better than junk food, even. But - Nng. Pain potion provider wanted details. And Steph had this thing about nurses. Her mom was one, and they had built in bull shit detectors. "Nothing big. Just out, enjoying the sights of London, and stuff happened." Stuff being a crime fighting spree that included two muggings, a bar fight, and jumping into a three-on one pawn shop robbery. She should of called it a night after the bar fight, but she'd had things on her mind.
"You think I look bad, you should see the other guys," she whispered, quiet enough so that the wiry-looking blond cop who was not so discreetly hovering a bed or two away, taking his sweet time to reach the seating area, couldn't hear.
Honestly, you tell a guy to - uh oh. "I think I'm gonna barf again." She really didn't want to barf again.
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Glancing over at the cop, muttering in Spanish, she looked back at Steph. "You're going to have to tell him something, hon. You'd better think about the truth."
Laying a gentle, cool hand against Stephanie's forehead, Carla pulled out a bed pan. "Throw up if you have to," she said in a soft voice. "The pain potion should help with nausea in a bit, though." Carla got out the bruise paste and started dabbing it on Steph's various marks. "You've got a dislocated shoulder, too. What the heck were you thinking?"
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Steph chuckled. "I didn't know nurses could tell that about a guy from so far away." Hey, almost half of Gotham’s population spoke Spanish. You picked up a thing or two! And she was not at all attempting to change the subject.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a slow breath. "I'm gonna go ahead on do that." She turned to her side, and made judicious use of the bedpan. "Sorry." She'd been thinking better her shoulder than random civilian #3's. Also, she'd been able to use said shoulder to slam two attackers against a brick wall at once, and that had just been sweet. "I...wasn't thinking?"
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Snorting out a laugh, Carla glanced over at Ray. <"Direct proportion to how quickly he whipped out his badge,"> she murmured in Spanish, grinning down at Stephanie. Picking up a wet cloth, Carla's eyes went soft as she dabbed Stephanie's forehead. "Don't apologize, sweetie. That's what it's there for. You just lay back and relax."
The bruises on Steph's face were taken care of and Carla pulled out a pair of scissors. "Sorry," she said, drawing the curtain, "I'm going to have to cut off this shirt in order to get a look at the shoulder and the rest of your wounds." Pause. "And damn straight you weren't."
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She opened up her mouth to say something else -she got to practice Spanish once in a never, around here- before the implications of Carla's words registered. Steph's mouth set into a hard line, and she tried not to look panicked. "You, um. My shirt? Are you sure? Do you have to cut the whole thing off?" Shirt off would lead to a whole smorgasboard of scars, which would lead to Looks, which would lead to Cover Blown. "Can you just make due with a sleeve? This is my favorite shirt."
...because plain, black t-shirts were all the rage.
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Giving Stephanie a brief, professional smile, Carla arched an eyebrow and moved to quickly cut Steph's shirt off, putting the pieces into the trash. "We'll get you a new one." The scars were pretty severe, covering the girl. Puncture wounds, from the look of them. And a few from some kind of sharp object, cutting. Carla took stock of them without appearing to, her attention focused on the shoulder. Gentle touches confirmed the dislocation and Carla shook her head ruefully.
"You're lucky Lily is in today. I only know the regular method of dealing with this, and it would really hurt." Poking her head around the curtain, she glared at Ray before hollering back to the back room. Then Carla went about gathering a tray of various potions and lotions for Lily ( ... )
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Steph, meanwhile, was putting all of her energy into not looking at Carla, or the Things on her body. Because, see, if she ignored them, then they weren't there. Lily coming out not like that, pervs was good, because it gave Steph a place to redirect that energy. Namely, into mounting a defense. "Nothing! I'm into nothing! I'm a kid-type-person. We roughhouse. Stuff happens." Stuff was her story, and she was sticking to. Incidentally, that was the only good piece of advice any country song had ever offered the world.
But then Lily squeezed her shoulder, and all energy went right back into Not Looking. Empathy was not Steph's forte.
She braced herself for the pain -doctors always said it wasn't going to hurt- and was ( ... )
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Lily snorted softly, shaking her head. "Why don't you go talk to Ray while I run some scans?" she asked Carla. "Tell him I'll be out in a few minutes."
Looking like she'd rather spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning bedpans, Carla nonetheless nodded and headed out to where Ray was sitting. She and Lily both knew that in the manner of Steph, Carla was the best person to talk to authorities. Lily honestly didn't see a problem with vigilante work, which is what happened when you had been one for years. She was liable to say the wrong things and then get mad ( ... )
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Does he have questions? Ray crosses his arms, and lets out a disbelieving snort. He's not annoyed by Carla's attitude. She's a nurse, they gotta be touch. No, he's annoyed beyond belief that a kid's sitting there with her face smashed up, and he's been standing around, resting his barf-covered heels. "Oh I got questions of all kind. First, why is a teenage girl walking around the woods, concussed? B, why is this not the first time the girl's been concussed? Third, why's she clamming up?" Ray leans in and whispers, they way he does with all E.R. nurses when both parties get that something isn't fitting. "You know something's off here. All I’m trying to do ( ... )
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Leaning back, she gave Ray a significant look. "The direction that the shoulder was dislocated says that she was slamming it into something, not having it be wrenched. She's one tough chika, I'm telling you. Even if she was jumped, she fought back. And she's terrified she's going to get caught for it."
Then she gave Ray a smug little grin. "That's just my lowly nurse's opinion, though."
Hey, this was professional flirting, man. Cops were hot.
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He stands there listening, rubbing a thumb over his bottom lip. His eyes go hard at the mention of abuse, but he doesn't interrupt. You do not interrupt a nurse when she's disclosing information. That gets you smacked. "So you're thinking she goes out looking for trouble ( ... )
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"Vecchio," he says, easily. Hey, Fraser wasn't here! He was allowed to flirt! Not that he flirted with Fraser...or...anything. Shut up, all of you."Ray Vecchio. Let me ask you, Carla Espinosa. What do you do when you're not talking to cops with throw up on their shoes?" Actually, one of them cleaning midgets had come along and taken care of that mess. Ray had used the opportunity to kick it in the head. But still, conversation starters like this don't come along often. Thank god.
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