As the physician to the Clubs, Frankie attends every martial challenge, but even if Tegan had been playing chess her aunt would have been there. As it is, Frankie's eyes are narrowed and sharp throughout each round, scanning Tegan carefully during the rests in between, and she winces when she sees the blow land.
She isn't sure whether she'd imagined the snapping sound or not, but the way Tegan moves for the rest of the round confirms her suspicion. Injured ankle, possibly broken.
"You sit and wait there," she orders as she moves past Tegan to examine Mikhail, forced to go to the more injured party first. He's breathing, and after a quick examination she rolls him over to keep the blood from obstructing his breathing. He'll wake up to a broken nose, but he'll be fine, and having him out cold is a good opportunity for Frankie to reset it with a wet cracking sound.
"Get him to the infirmary," she instructs the aides as she turns to the other competitor.
Without the rush of adrenaline pushing her to react, Tegan feels tired and sore and about a hundred years old.
Still she manages to seat herself with the minimal amount of wincing, gingerly stripping off the tape. She's no expert but it certainly looks broken. Painful, inconvenient; she'll live.
"He is," Frankie says as she carefully examines the ankle. No swelling yet, but certainly broken. "Just a neatly broken nose, already reset. He'll wake up with a nasty headache."
She reaches for an ice pack to keep down the swelling. "Broken. I can take an X-ray to confirm, but it looks like you'll be getting some crutches for awhile. How's your head? Any blurred vision, faintness, nausea? Any pain anywhere else?" And no lies, Tegan. Frankie can tell when you lie about pain.
Getting the angle right on a blow like that is always tricky and, despite her opponent conveniently forgetting the rules, she's glad that the damage will likely not be permanent.
"My ribs hurt," she says after a moment. "One is cracked, I think. Shoulder hurts but I think it's just bruised."
Another violent one. Don't mind her quietly cringing at the end. It means a touch more because she's got her own ideas for the future. But ... it's much better than she originally thought.
Sandy knows Tegan can be... violent. She's been okay with that. She still is. Even after the other challenges. Sandy still cares about her friend, no matter what. And she's so incredibly proud Tegan showed everyone she wasn't to be messed with and wisdom to show her control.
When Frankie is done fussing, Sandy will pop out. "Hi, Nine."
Contrary to popular belief, martial challenges have never been her favourite. Tegan's skilled enough, make no mistake, but between the cracked ribs and broken ankle she's almost wishing she'd stuck with the original plan and gone with archery.
On the plus side, the likelihood of Mikhail countering at all has just decreased considerably. Attempting an illegal move was bad enough, deliberately attempting one while fatality had been all but forbade was worse.
Breaking the bastard's nose had just been a perk, really.
The wincing is kept to a minimum - two bruised ribs and one cracked one do not a cuddly Tegan make - but the smile broadens considerably. "So, do you think I'll finally be able to swing a day off?"
Elisha stood in the corner, near the back. It's what he did with most challenges he came to watch, and his expression didn't change except for a flash of satisfaction. Tegan was a Nine. Mikhail was a Seven. Likely he'd counter, but it was going to have to wait - oh, six weeks, he'd estimate.
And because it is Tegan, a Club who knows what they do instead of one for whom he's the occasionally over-serious arts administrator for the Suit, he approaches while Frankie's checking on Mikhael's progress to their infirmary.
"Congratulations," he says as he sits next to her, out of the way of her elevated legs. "Though I wonder if I should encourage the next Club who wants to challenge towards croquet."
Laughter is the best medicine, or so the ridiculous cliche goes. He's just going to grin at her as he sits down. "Good work," he says instead. "Ready for all the paperwork? I hear there are at least three twos moving it into your office." New office, of course, Nines got bigger ones.
"Three, huh." Tegan makes room for him, wincing kept to the barest minimum. New offices, new rooms theoretically -- she still intended to keep hers, if she could. They were on the ground floor and close to the Kitchens.
"That's a lot less than I'd expected."
Doesn't mean that she probably won't be looking into this assistant thing, just until she's managed to beat it back to a more manageable heap.
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She isn't sure whether she'd imagined the snapping sound or not, but the way Tegan moves for the rest of the round confirms her suspicion. Injured ankle, possibly broken.
"You sit and wait there," she orders as she moves past Tegan to examine Mikhail, forced to go to the more injured party first. He's breathing, and after a quick examination she rolls him over to keep the blood from obstructing his breathing. He'll wake up to a broken nose, but he'll be fine, and having him out cold is a good opportunity for Frankie to reset it with a wet cracking sound.
"Get him to the infirmary," she instructs the aides as she turns to the other competitor.
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Still she manages to seat herself with the minimal amount of wincing, gingerly stripping off the tape. She's no expert but it certainly looks broken. Painful, inconvenient; she'll live.
"Is he going to be okay?"
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She reaches for an ice pack to keep down the swelling. "Broken. I can take an X-ray to confirm, but it looks like you'll be getting some crutches for awhile. How's your head? Any blurred vision, faintness, nausea? Any pain anywhere else?" And no lies, Tegan. Frankie can tell when you lie about pain.
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"My ribs hurt," she says after a moment. "One is cracked, I think. Shoulder hurts but I think it's just bruised."
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Sandy knows Tegan can be... violent. She's been okay with that. She still is. Even after the other challenges. Sandy still cares about her friend, no matter what. And she's so incredibly proud Tegan showed everyone she wasn't to be messed with and wisdom to show her control.
When Frankie is done fussing, Sandy will pop out. "Hi, Nine."
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On the plus side, the likelihood of Mikhail countering at all has just decreased considerably. Attempting an illegal move was bad enough, deliberately attempting one while fatality had been all but forbade was worse.
Breaking the bastard's nose had just been a perk, really.
"Hi," she says and even manages a smile.
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Have a gentle hug, Nine.
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And because it is Tegan, a Club who knows what they do instead of one for whom he's the occasionally over-serious arts administrator for the Suit, he approaches while Frankie's checking on Mikhael's progress to their infirmary.
"Congratulations," he says as he sits next to her, out of the way of her elevated legs. "Though I wonder if I should encourage the next Club who wants to challenge towards croquet."
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"Chess," she says by way of response. "Next time it will definitely be chess."
And next time will wait for at least another five years because, wow. Wow, she had actually made it.
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"That's a lot less than I'd expected."
Doesn't mean that she probably won't be looking into this assistant thing, just until she's managed to beat it back to a more manageable heap.
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