[ CLOSED ]
who ; nobletwo & thom_293
what ; Just, hangin' out. Stitching some wounds. Blood everywhere. But mostly, hanging out.
where ; Spartan haus.
when ; After Thom decided to be a show off with his jet pack, that ass.
warning(s) ; does descriptions of wounds and blood count
( She looks good but her boyfriend says she's a mess. )
what ; Just, hangin' out. Stitching some wounds. Blood everywhere. But mostly, hanging out.
where ; Spartan haus.
when ; After Thom decided to be a show off with his jet pack, that ass.
warning(s) ; does descriptions of wounds and blood count
( She looks good but her boyfriend says she's a mess. )
Kat looks away from Thom's armor long enough to throw him a slight quirk to her lips before her expression slips back into focused, unfazed neutrality. Before, a long time ago, she might have reprimanded him for making too light of the situation, but Thom's banter... it'd grown on her, after how long she'd known him. If he was still able to joke about everything, it meant the situation was hardly dire.
She works quietly and quickly, putting down each piece of Thom's armor neatly and slides the screwdriver from behind her ear, poking and checking a few connections as she undressed him bit by bit.
"Freelancer," she confirmed after a moment, glancing back at his face.
She works as quickly as she can, but MJOLNIR is complicated and it's still some time before she's got every piece off his upper body and laid out. Kat remains as cool and focused as before even as she reaches to peel the body suit off him, her expression only twisting with slight annoyance when she has to pause to wipe more blood and gel away from his arm before she can continue.
"Lucky shot, indeed. You're a headache," she says, flicking him on the forehead, before she starts yanking the bodysuit down. Her prosthesis is cold against bare skin, but welp, Thom, you gotta take it like a man.
"What did she want?"
Reply
"Lunch money, I think," he says, the sudden lift of several hundred pounds off his shoulders necessitating a shift in stance and posture. He knows better than to move overmuch under Kat's hands, she's like to smack him back into stillness.
But that quip hardly encompasses the information he's sure she's after. "I'm not sure. She stalked me for a bit, out of range of my motion trackers. Caught me when my guard was down." That's not strictly true - he'd been aware of a presence, and had ignored it. They amounted to the same thing in his mind: sheer stupidity. If they'd been back home, and the Freelancer an Elite, he wouldn't have survived that encounter.
He's been here a month. How is it he's already lost so much of his edge?
"Took my handgun, and made off with my tac pouch. Down a couple of magazines. I didn't want to kill her, but her armour ended up in pretty bad shape - it wasn't in immaculate condition to begin with."
Translation: he had no idea how to fight against someone armoured similarly to a Spartan, and as a result he'd gone entirely too easy on her. It wasn't a lack of knowledge - as long as they'd spent in armour, one tended to learn all the necessary weaknesses to take it down in short order - so much as it was a lack of intent. Fighting against comrades, even ones that were only assumed to be as such, just wasn't in his play book.
Reply
Kat remembered little of her own behavior, but that wasn't really the point. The image of Carter bringing a gun to his head and blowing a splatter of blood and brains all over her was still fresh in her mind. Traumatic to say the least. Just thinking about it causes a slight tremor in her hands -- brief, but enough to be a little noticeable for that small moment.
In a way, it made her a little angry. Kat had no recollection of being responsible for a similar situation, but she expected more from him. Even someone who could be perceived as a comrade once hostile should be considered hostile. She won't bury another one of her team so soon.
She's a little more rough than necessary as she undresses him, just because she can. It wasn't really going to hurt him, but it got the point across.
"We'll track her down."
Then it gets to the arm, Kat's touch eases. She's gentle, moving his arm up, careful as she works the thick material down his arm. Blood slicks over her hand, and she pauses, just a moment, looking at it, then continues.
"Have you reported to Carter yet?" Her voice a little lower now but she's not reprimanding him now. There's genuine concern in her voice, punctuated by the informal use of a name than his call sign.
Reply
He catches that tremor, and reaches out with his good arm - now bare of the pressure suit - to lay his hand briefly on her shoulder. In a way, it's meant as reassurance, even if he can't find the proper accompaniment of words. He can guess where her mind has gone.
"Sorry for bleeding on the upholstery," he says lightly. If she's listening for it, the cant to his tone suggests that the apology stands for significantly more than that alone.
Until now, he's been mostly boneless and pliant, content to move under Kat's direction, but as she peels the suit away from his injury he tenses. The arm is swollen and mottled with bruising, and there's a weary ache emanating from it. As much as he doesn't mind the pain - papercut, remember? - it's still uncomfortable, like wearing something several sizes too small and being unable to escape the claustrophobic oppression of it. As soon as that arm is free, he wraps the fingers of his good hand around the wrist and manipulates the joint.
Worse is going to be getting the bullet out. It went in diagonally, so she'll either have to go in through the entry wound or drag him for x-rays so she can get a bead on the bullet's position and go straight through the muscle of his forearm to where it's undoubtedly lodged against the bone.
"Ah, no. Not yet. I'll go drop off a 5102-7C when we're done." That being, a combat zone mishap report. He's not really sure what else to class this as.
Reply
Not the first time Kat's seen a wound like this, and aside from the bleeding, it wasn't a huge deal. A little better than what she expected, really, but as of late she's been expecting the worst of things any time she sets eyes on a little bit of blood. Her Spartans were like birds-- they liked to try and hide just how bad the situation was, usually. They were all guilty of this, herself included.
"I can speak to him for you." It's an open offer, if just because if anyone is good at crushing Carter under a heel, it's her. It's not that she thinks that Carter would be hard on him -- enough though considering he lost valuable equipment and probably should be given a time out -- it's more the fact that she's not sure how Carter will react.
Not that she really expects Thom to agree to let her do it.
"I need more light," she murmurs a soft command, her fingers tracing down his swollen and bruised arm. Kat shifts back, turning on an extra light, and then went to grab a flash light.
"Can you feel your fingers?"
Reply
Thom laughs a little at that, and shakes his head. He loves you dearly, Kat, and appreciates the offer, but he's not hiding behind your insignia. "I'll talk to him." He's never been one to shy away from the firing line.
He takes the flashlight from her without a word, holds it on the injury as well as he can with the slightly awkward angle. "Not well," he admits. But the fact that his hand isn't completely limp is a good thing, at least. It means that, even if they've taken undue stress, no nerves have been severed completely. There's a procedure he's not a fan of: nerve reattachment. "I think it's just the trauma to the muscle itself. Might have winged the posterior interosseous, but sensation has improved about eight percent since it happened." Which, in his mind, ultimately means he'll be fine.
Reply
Kat takes a cloth and wipes away more blood from the area, getting a better look at it with the light, then applies it to the wound directly.
"Hold that," she murmurs, and waits for him to do so before she turns to grab a sterilizing agent, pouring some onto some fresh gauze. She didn't really need to warn him that this was gonna sting like a bitch. He's a big boy.
"You should lay down."
Reply
He realizes too late that it might have been an order, and gives her a sort of questioning look. He won't really argue if that's what she's suggesting.
Reply
"Fine."
And that's that.
Kat moves quicker now and with more purpose, grabbing the alcohol. She could have just wiped away at the location, but nope, she opts to move Thom's hand away with the compress and dumps a load of it on, gauze cupped under the wound to catch the excess, and then she presses it up against it.
"You did well, by the way," she says. She means the work he did leading Noble while she and Carter were out of the picture. She was still bitter, somewhat, that she had been considered unfit, but at the same time she had appointed Thom and Six to pick up the slack and had been satisfied with her choice.
But, well, she was still praising him while stinging the fuck out of his wound and, by appearances, prepping him for bullet removal without anesthetic.
She loves you Thom. She really does.
Reply
Leave a comment