OPEN INFIRMARY LOG

[stopthat_destro]

Who: Open to All. Infirmary staff, people who tripped and fell down the stairs, got electrocuted by the toaster, whatev.
Where: INFIRMARY, DUDES
When: Curse times
Warnings: Will update if necessary

Comments

[sirius_is_a_dog]

Sirius made his way to the infirmary, arriving there almost immediately after ending his communication with Martha. He was there to help, but first, there was the matter of the dozens if not hundreds of cuts he had received when a bottle of firewhiskey had exploded as he opened it. Most of the cuts were surface wounds, scattered over his hands, arms, and face. There were a few deeper gashes with glass still embedded in them. When he had tried to take care of the worst of it himself, with magic, the spell had gone terribly wrong. The end result being his hair, typically a point of vanity with him, was now mangled and shredded and fried.

He had a blood-soaked shirt wrapped around each arm and one tied around his head. As he walked into the infirmary, he tripped over an untied bootlace and fell on his face.

[stopthat_destro]

All things considered, Rex had gotten lucky in the hex department. Of course, he didn't know that this was because the curse sort of misfired and hit his Barge twin in a failed attempt at throwing Sveta's hatred at him. He just assumed that he'd been fortunate for a change-- relatively, at least. He couldn't touch any electronics without getting a shock (positively torture for the scientist), but at least he wasn't a danger to himself or others, and he hadn't wound up with any injuries yet.

The same couldn't be said for Wichita's inmate. Rex was alerted to his presence by the thud of the other inmate falling over. He moved away from Amanda's bed, where he'd been keeping watch over her condition, and offered Sirius a hand.

"I'd suggest sandals until this passes."

There was a time and a place for jokes, of course, but Rex was kind of a socially awkward dweeb.

[sirius_is_a_dog]

Sirius wordlessly kicked off his boots and took the offered hand. Once he was in a reasonably upright position, he picked up the boots, because he was pretty damn certain if he left them where they were, someone would trip over them and break his or her neck.

Of course, walking around in socks probably meant he would slip, but he didn't dare use magic. He would probably lose his hair altogether. "I think I need whatever muggles do for deep cuts," he announced. He eyed Rex, because he looked familiar. "Oh! You're the bloke that got us off that space station."

[stopthat_destro]

The word "muggle" threw Rex off for a moment, although he'd read Harry Potter ages ago as an adolescent. It was always strange to hear to hear... wizards' vernacular in person. He eyed what wounds he could see, nodding. "Sutures-- or stitches. Luckily, it doesn't look like you need too many."

There was a brief moment where Rex was afraid Sirius was going to say something more along the lines of "my warden's crazy ex-boyfriend who dumped her via voicemail," and there was the smallest sag of relief when Sirius instead placed him as the person who'd helped him out in port. "That's right. I couldn't, uh, in good conscience..." He cleared his throat and motioned awkwardly to one of the beds. "Go and have a seat. I'll take care of the cuts."

[becauseheswill]

Will had been both trying to keep out of the way and trying to help wherever he could since he'd arrived in the infirmary, the former largely out of habit, but also because he was busy making sure no one tripped over or stepped on his dæmon, which seemed to be happening more and more frequently. He'd considered just leaving her in his room, but separation had been harder than usual, and considering the curse seemed to be affecting everyone differently, he hadn't wanted to take the chance of leaving her behind.

At the moment, he was looking over supplies, making sure everything was organized for the next person coming in with injuries. Kirjava sat on the counter next to him, keeping an eye on the rest of the infirmary in case they were needed.

[notarrowette]

Cissie had rushed to the infirmary as soon as Martha made her announcement, despite the bumps and bruises she'd collected from the turbulence. She was preoccupied, worried about Sveta; the talk of killing her to stop this made Cissie sick. She knew the Death Toll would kick in, but that didn't mean it was an acceptable solution. There had to be another way to fix things and to calm people down. To help Sveta.

Cissie went to organize a cart, getting things ready for the inevitable injuries they would need to treat during this mess. She reached for a box of gauze as the Barge gave a violent shudder and she lost her balance, stumbling and falling against the cart and knocking bandages and gloves and sterile wipes all over the floor with a loud crash. She cursed under her breath and rubbed at her side, where she would certainly be bruised.

"Perfect," she muttered to herself, sighing. "Just perfect."

[becauseheswill]

At the next swell of turbulence, Will dropped the roll of bandages he'd been holding and grabbed the counter, trying to keep his balance. He'd already been banged up by the last few violent bumps, and at this point, he'd come to expect them. He turned towards Cissie immediately when he heard her stumble, but didn't leave his spot until after he was sure the unusual movement of the Barge had stopped.

He put away the roll and walked over to Cissie, frowning slightly with concern, Kirjava not far behind him.

"Are you alright?"

[notarrowette]

Cissie blew out a frustrated breath, but nodded, wincing slightly as she sat up. "Yeah, just annoyed." She eyed the mess around her with a displeased expression, and finally looked up at Will. She was about to thank him when she saw Kirjava behind him and she stopped, blinking.

"...Is that... your cat?"

[becauseheswill]

"Yeah." Sort of. It was too hard to explain right now, and not really something he wanted to explain in the first place, so he settled for grabbing some of the supplies off the floor to start helping Cissie reorganize the cart. He'd already explained to Martha why she was here with him instead of back in his room, and considering how infrequently he told people about Kirjava - as in, back home only Mary knew the details - that was a big deal.

"Her name's Kirjava."

[stopthat_destro]

It was odd, being back in the infirmary for a Barge crisis for the first time in practically a year. And, like before, Rex was willing to use this time opportunistically, to generate goodwill and trust, even though he wasn't planning anything sinister at all right now. But it never hurt to be prepared, especially after he'd damaged his own reputation so thoroughly since... well, he'd quit the infirmary a year ago.

To be honest, angry (and somewhat vindicated) though he was that Sveta had proven his paranoia about her right by attacking the entire ship, Rex was more excited than anything else. He couldn't exactly blame Sveta for doing... exactly what he'd done just a few months ago-- well, he could; Rex was never the most consistent when it came to his expectations of others-- but he really didn't blame her. He'd been there. He knew how suffocating the Barge was, how maddeningly stupid the people were, how they could drive one to lash out in sheer, destructive desperation. That her actions affected him right now (albeit in a

(approved by Binky)

[timesbureaucrat]

Narvin dashed into the infirmary, carrying an unconscious and pale Agent Kay. He glanced around at the chaos. Too many people were getting injured. He found an empty bed, gently placed Kay on it, and (after a quick look to make sure no one was paying attention) kissed him lightly on the forehead. Then he ran to find Rex. For matters biomechanical, Dr. Lewis was the expert.

"Bionic organ problems," he said bruskly and pointed to the bed where Kay was lying. Now that Narvin was away from him, his colour was starting to slowly improve. Dammit, if this didn't stop soon, he'd kill Sveta. People's lives were in danger.

AS USUAL: forgive me for any science fail :V

[stopthat_destro]

Rex had just finished tending to somebody's minor injuries, and was washing some tools when Narvin approached him. His eyebrows perked up at the mention of bionic organs, and he looked back over his shoulder at Kay.

"Which organ? What are his symptoms?" Rex moved over to Kay to observe the other man's condition, pressing his fingers to the agent's neck to feel his pulse. He really hoped that his bad luck wouldn't kick in with bionics. "So, what happened?"

All's forgiven in advance. Doctor Who ignores science anyway.

[timesbureaucrat]

"Liver, I think. Possibly others." He followed Rex back to Kay's side. Immediately, Kay's colour started to worsen again. Narvin's lips thinned.

"It started with a sharp pain in his side, then within a few microspans...minutes...he lost consciousness. I brought him here."

OPEN TO ANYONE

[gotgirlballs]

Rayne was right: she'd really picked the worst time to come back. However, Denise was also right when she replied that she couldn't exactly take it back and pick a less hectic time to arrive.

Hair tied back, wearing her scrubs and white coat and a pair of sensible shoes, Denise barged her way through the infirmary door with a look of mild annoyance (her default expression, really), fully expecting to be confronted with a lot of stupid shit as soon as she started working. She surveyed the waiting area, suitably impressed by the unexpectedly high number of people waiting for assistance, and cracked her knuckles.

"I can take the next person waiting," she announced, taking her stethoscope from one pocket of her coat and laying it to hang across the back of her neck.

[gotgirlballs]

"Yeah?" Denise said, turning around to look at him. "What's the--oh, fuck."

After quickly assessing his condition--the blood-soaked cloth around one of the man's hands and a smaller, similarly bloody mass of cloth held in his other hand--Denise looked into his face with an expression of irritated incredulity.

"You have got to be shitting me," she muttered, and grabbed his elbow to push him in the general direction of a bed.

"Sit down and give me your hand," she said in a no-nonsense tone, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. If it was as bad as she assumed, she'd need to shout for Martha right away--Denise was an MD, not a surgeon.