Wren often works late at the hospital, and tonight is no exception, but he's usually awake enough not to spill scalding hot coffee all over the back of his right hand (and over a stack of patient files, and the photograph of his sister he's been meaning to buy a desk frame for).
Usually.
He makes it to the sink, cursing under his breath, and runs cold water over the already reddening skin.
[Just about time to head home for this almost-a-nurse, but he said he'd finish mopping the corridor, and he's not one to go back on that. Whistling softly under his breath, it's on an exhaled breath that he sees the accident through a glass panel.
He hurries over immediately, abandoning his task to help.]
Quite viciously. [He glances at the man and offers a tight smile. He's sure he could remember his name if his whole hand wasn't pulsating with heat and pain.] I must admit I have a rather low threshold of pain.
Same here. I start snivelling at a wee splinter - no lie. D'you have a watch on? I'm no doctor, but I heard it's best to remove anything near a burn if it's not sticking. [Quite calmly, keeping one eye on the other man as he hunts around for sterile dressings or clingfilm.]
It's on my left wrist - I'm right-handed, which is rather unfortunate right now since I don't think I'll be using this hand for a bit. [The initial pain starts to wear off, leaving a strong ache in its place, but it's not blistering.] It's superficial, I believe.
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Usually.
He makes it to the sink, cursing under his breath, and runs cold water over the already reddening skin.
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He hurries over immediately, abandoning his task to help.]
Och, nasty. Coffee attacked you?
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