004. [location: wayne manor] we raise it up

[lambentstar]

Now that Cat is convinced that the bombs aren't going off (she checked all the clocks she could find, just to be that little bit more sure) she's shifted the focus of her organization. After firmly admonishing the Extras that they still had to stay inside, she asked a few of them to join her in setting up a clear space in a room near the kitchen.

Comments

[notsawbones]

McCoy had always been a grumpy man for the latter half of his life. Always dealing in scathing remarks and sarcastic quips, he had not been tempted to punch the living daylights out of someone since his brief amity with a surly Tessma named Arvid when he was seventeen. Now that was a story and a half.

But somehow this "The Doctor", inverted quotes, had managed to piss the Starfleet doctor off to the point where he wanted to find him and shake the other man until he reacquired some tiny molecule of common sense. But until then, he was sulking outside the various pieces of the Enterprise their crew had brought with them, practising his aim with a hatched box of tennis balls at his feet and a phaser attached to one hand in a white knuckled grip.

And missed every single one he had tossed out in front of him so far, which was why he had taken this activity outside: like hell was he going to risk damaging and scuffing up his sickbay practising his aim with this damn thing.

[dieneidio]

Enfys had dug through the tablet's cache of network posts to see if she could dredge up some more names and faces to go with the nebulous requirement of 'medical personnel'; McCoy is one of them, along with Simon Tam, and so when she comes across the former of the two men she's pretty pleased with herself.

McCoy may be moderately less pleased by the long-legged twenty-four year old who just pulled up and got off the Ducati a few feet away from him, squinting at his not-spectacular aim and looking like she was recently dragged backwards through a field of gorse bushes. "Dr McCoy?"

[notsawbones]

McCoy was remarkably unpleased by the Ducati the woman had arrived on judging by the thin, white line of a tell-tale grimace where his lips were meant to be, as he arched an eyebrow questioningly. It looked like one of those retro automobiles Jim often lamented at him as a shining beacon of what he had given up when he chose the path of ridiculing his instructors with his Goddamn intellect for three years and sending his heart rate soaring through the roof when he climbed on one of these things.

And clearly McCoy did not know enough about these retro vehicles to realize that automobile was a car and not a bike. Not that he let that bother him at the moment; her appearance was something that set that eyebrow even higher on his face, before he tossed the tennis ball aside, where it bounded down the street and out of sight.

"Do you see any other poorly treated Starfleet doctors around here?" Which was a way of saying yes, yes I am Dr. McCoy.

[dieneidio]

Her head cocks to one side. "Right, good then! I need you to get on the back of that-" she nods toward the bike, "-and come with me back to Wayne Manor. We're setting up a triage in one of the ballrooms and bringing in the injured, we need actual doctors, and you just volunteered yourself."

By confirming that he's a doctor. Enfys is a nice girl.

"So, d'you want the nice polite introduction or do you want me to hit you with a stick 'til you do what I say, because I've had a real fucking long day, I'm telling you, mate."

[notsawbones]

McCoy did not reply to her at first, deciding to duck his head down and turn off his phaser before returning the weapon indifferently to the holster around his waist. His lips had all but successfully disappeared at the threat of being hit with a stick by this woman who had simply turned up outside the Enterprise on a bike and who was beginning to remind him more and more of an effeminate version of Jim. Wait, she didn't quite look like... damn glitches, why was he even contemplating this?

"Well sure, why not." He replies sarcastically and crosses his arms obstinately over his chest as he faces the woman who was having an extremely bad day. "And while we're at it, why don't we use the Goddamn transporter while we're here? Have our atoms pelted across the city while that God-modding bastard threatens to blow us all up. It'll be a hell of a lot faster than burning rubber, that's for sure

[dieneidio]

Wordlessly (that won't last), Enfys points at the lochaber axe strapped to the back of her bike. She waits, a moment, to let that sink in, and then she says helpfully, "I have a stick. You have a medical degree. I have patients that need doctors. I can hit you so as you can still work. Do you want to trifle with me, baby?"

[notsawbones]

McCoy follows the waggle of her finger and... Oh God, it was a very big axe attached to a long stick and the doctor stared at it without a sound as it did indeed sink in.

"So, Wayne Manor." He finally musters after swallowing down his dread at 1) ever crossing this woman in the future and 2) falling off the Ducati since he severely doubted she would keep to the Taxon speed limit, if there was one. But it was probably better than having cold, medieval steel embedded into a part of his body that would not really impair his medical judgement or being whacked with the stick until he was unconscious.

He sighs in defeat and glances back at the Enterprise: "Let me get some equipment first."

[dieneidio]

Apparently this satisfies her, because she drops her hands back to her hips and rocks on the balls of her feet, nodding. "Get whatever you need and you can carry. We'll have some folks around to go running errands if there's anything else later, all right?"

...mercifully, she adds, "I brought you a helmet."

Of course she doesn't wear one herself, but today is not the kind of day where anyone's going to give her stick for it. At any rate, the immediate and vicious threat that is 'Enfys in a temper' gets sheathed almost instantaneously once he starts cooperating, and underneath the grime and sweat and blood and exhaustion, she almost looks friendly.

Sort of like how knives are really pretty in the light.

[notsawbones]

The promise of a helmet seems to relieve McCoy of the pent-up dread at riding on that bike seizing his shoulders as he turns around on his foot and disappears into the Enterprise after punching in the authorization code.

Despite his obstinate manner during the whole bitchy exchange, he was not going to say no to the woman who was requesting his help with the patients at this manor. Okay, it was a questionable way of asking for help by threatening to hit with a stick, but it was a request all the same.

And so, McCoy emerges ten minutes later with a pouch slung over one shoulder full of necessities he can afford to take along: his beloved hypospray, various vials, his medical tricorder and a dermal regenerator. His face is the epitome of extreme unhappiness as he observes the Ducati as he begins to fasten the helmet around his head with his fumbling fingers.

[dieneidio]

In fairness, it may have been more of a peremptory demand, but that's probably why Bruce told her to do this; once she has shit to do, she gets shit done with an absolute minimum of fucking around.

She slides back onto the bike like she's seriously thinking about never getting off (Bones may be afraid of it, but Enfys frankly kind of wants to fuck it), and glances at him over her shoulder. "Be a good boy and hold on real tight."

[notsawbones]

McCoy grumbles something unintelligible in response, most likely something about death traps and the sort, satisfied that the helmet is fastened as good as it ever will be and sucking in his breath, takes a seat on the back of the motorbike.

Be a good boy. Yeah right.

[dieneidio]

Once she's sure that McCoy's as secure as he's getting, the Ducati roars into motion without much in the way of warning. Enfys rides about the way one might expect - really fucking fast, yes, and like it'd be reckless if she weren't as in control as she is, maybe even with her in control - but for all that, she cuts down on wasted time without breaking anything or anyone.

Well, physically. Psychologically, McCoy may never want to see her again, but that's a whole other story.

She pulls up in front of Wayne Manor.

[notsawbones]

McCoy would go on to develop a rational fear of bikes after this encounter. As Enfys pulls up to Wayne Manor, he somehow finds the spirit to awkwardly dismount the bike and stumble away from the Ducati while trying to tear the helmet off his head.

His hair stands on end when he accomplishes this, dark tresses spiked up by the perspiration that had formed, somewhat mimicking the style Kirk actively tried to achieve each morning as the doctor discards the helmet with a fling of his arm and bends over, sickly green coloured cheeks bloated with trapped air during the journey before he heaves in relief as he stares at the ground.

"I'm going to throw up." When it concerned adrenaline rushes, the doctor was a lightweight.

[dieneidio]

Possibly to McCoy's shock, the sympathy that Enfys displays here is wholehearted and unfeigned, parking securely and coming off after him to pick up the helmet in one hand and put her other flat on his back, steady, strong, trying to be comforting when she knows she's not any good at it. (It's easier for her to make the effort for a stranger, where the thought of disappointing someone she loves is paralyzing. She cuts herself open, but by God do not watch her bleed.)

"Hey," she says, quietly, a lot gentler, "hey, easy."

[notsawbones]

Fortunately for McCoy, he manages to maintain what dignity he had left after that performance after a simple ride and straightens up with a shuddering intake of breath.

"Right. Right," He manages once he regains his composure and manages to form a coherent reply after that loss of face. "Lead the way to this triage of yours."

[dieneidio]

Scrutinizing him as if she doesn't quite trust his pregnant woman moodswings (that's how she terms it in her head, dryly and freely affectionate, whirlpool of a girl that she is), Enfys straightens his shirt for him unnecessarily and brushes dust off one shoulder before she's satisfied that he can probably pony up.

"S'this way," she says, heading into what's becoming a familiar place already.