(no subject)
Who: Reeve and Vincent (some Shalua, too)
Status: Open
When: 9:00 AM
Where: Basement Level 2, WRO Headquarters
What: The morning after yet another near-death experience, Vincent wakes up in Shalua's care, barely remembering the previous events other than Tifa's aid in getting him there.
His throat was burning against the cool and wet feel of something long and tubular, all the way down to his lungs. Air went in and out in mechanical movements, mimicking the sound of a humming machine close by. Feeling was slowly returning to his body, and he shifted slightly - stilling almost immediately at the feeling of straps against his body, holding him down to the bed. One across the expanse of his chest, one on each of his forearms, one on each of his wrists, over his thighs, around his ankles. He lifted the arm of his prosthetic, straining against the belts that were beginning to dig painfully into his skin. Panic flitted through his chest - where was he? - unable to open his eyes, the feel of tape against his eyelids.
"Vincent?"
The click of heels against the hard floor.
"Vincent..."
Lucrecia...?
"Vincent, are you awake? If you can hear me, relax and tap your hands against the bed twice."
No, not Lucrecia. Shalua. That was Shalua's voice. He stopped straining against the constraints, doing as he was told. Careful fingers peeled away the tape from over his eyes, and he opened them slowly, squinting against his blurred vision. He could make out the outline of her round face, the orange-blonde of her hair and the lines of her glasses.
"Don't move yet. I'm going to take out the air tube."
Her metal hand lay flat against his chest, holding him down while her human hand wrapped around the plastic tubing. With a sick, wet sound she was pulling it out of his throat, and he clenched his eyes shut, holding back a gag at the feeling. He swallowed, running his tongue across his top row of teeth as she began removing the belts, opening his eyes once more to gaze at her questioningly.
"What...?" His diaphragm spasmed in protest, and he hiccuped once before coughing.
"You went a little crazy last night. Started freaking out when we tried to prep you for surgery, had to sedate you with a chocobo tranquilizer." She stepped back, smoothing the straps aside before placing her human hand on her hip and looking down at him with a frown. "You make a habit of being a bad patient? Don't move your right arm around too much - we stuck you with an IV and morphine drip."
He blinked slowly, and she shook her head slightly.
"I'm going to keep you on for a few more hours. The regenerative capability of your cells is... amazing, frankly, but you're going to be in for a lot of pain."
He could already feel the soreness in his body, along with the hazy, drug-induced feeling that made his head light. He grunted slightly, eyes closing again to relieve it from the bright light in the room.
"Where are we?"
"WRO Headquarters. You don't remember?"
Vaguely. He was sure he would remember in full when the morphine drip was rid of, but he'd take it out himself when she wasn't looking. He shifted again, and for a blank moment wondered why it felt so chilly in the room.
"My clothes...?"
"We couldn't repair all your internal damage with all that leather on."
Oh, right. He supposed she had a poi - hold on. "Surgery?"
"Relax. We don't need to go back in - we looked you over with the scans a couple hours ago. You're lucky to be alive, you know." The clicking of heels, and he could hear her moving away from him. "... It's amazing," she repeated from earlier. "I'll have someone bring you food, and we'll see if your stomach wants to function normally again."
"... Okay."
Status: Open
When: 9:00 AM
Where: Basement Level 2, WRO Headquarters
What: The morning after yet another near-death experience, Vincent wakes up in Shalua's care, barely remembering the previous events other than Tifa's aid in getting him there.
His throat was burning against the cool and wet feel of something long and tubular, all the way down to his lungs. Air went in and out in mechanical movements, mimicking the sound of a humming machine close by. Feeling was slowly returning to his body, and he shifted slightly - stilling almost immediately at the feeling of straps against his body, holding him down to the bed. One across the expanse of his chest, one on each of his forearms, one on each of his wrists, over his thighs, around his ankles. He lifted the arm of his prosthetic, straining against the belts that were beginning to dig painfully into his skin. Panic flitted through his chest - where was he? - unable to open his eyes, the feel of tape against his eyelids.
"Vincent?"
The click of heels against the hard floor.
"Vincent..."
Lucrecia...?
"Vincent, are you awake? If you can hear me, relax and tap your hands against the bed twice."
No, not Lucrecia. Shalua. That was Shalua's voice. He stopped straining against the constraints, doing as he was told. Careful fingers peeled away the tape from over his eyes, and he opened them slowly, squinting against his blurred vision. He could make out the outline of her round face, the orange-blonde of her hair and the lines of her glasses.
"Don't move yet. I'm going to take out the air tube."
Her metal hand lay flat against his chest, holding him down while her human hand wrapped around the plastic tubing. With a sick, wet sound she was pulling it out of his throat, and he clenched his eyes shut, holding back a gag at the feeling. He swallowed, running his tongue across his top row of teeth as she began removing the belts, opening his eyes once more to gaze at her questioningly.
"What...?" His diaphragm spasmed in protest, and he hiccuped once before coughing.
"You went a little crazy last night. Started freaking out when we tried to prep you for surgery, had to sedate you with a chocobo tranquilizer." She stepped back, smoothing the straps aside before placing her human hand on her hip and looking down at him with a frown. "You make a habit of being a bad patient? Don't move your right arm around too much - we stuck you with an IV and morphine drip."
He blinked slowly, and she shook her head slightly.
"I'm going to keep you on for a few more hours. The regenerative capability of your cells is... amazing, frankly, but you're going to be in for a lot of pain."
He could already feel the soreness in his body, along with the hazy, drug-induced feeling that made his head light. He grunted slightly, eyes closing again to relieve it from the bright light in the room.
"Where are we?"
"WRO Headquarters. You don't remember?"
Vaguely. He was sure he would remember in full when the morphine drip was rid of, but he'd take it out himself when she wasn't looking. He shifted again, and for a blank moment wondered why it felt so chilly in the room.
"My clothes...?"
"We couldn't repair all your internal damage with all that leather on."
Oh, right. He supposed she had a poi - hold on. "Surgery?"
"Relax. We don't need to go back in - we looked you over with the scans a couple hours ago. You're lucky to be alive, you know." The clicking of heels, and he could hear her moving away from him. "... It's amazing," she repeated from earlier. "I'll have someone bring you food, and we'll see if your stomach wants to function normally again."
"... Okay."