medic?

[thefbiagent]

He hadn’t meant to slice open his knee, of course, it just happened. He’d been finishing up a run down the beach and had mounted the path up toward the compound when he’d tripped on an exposed root, sending him tumbling on his ass. Thankfully no one had been there to see it, but he’d ripped his knee a bit on the fall. "Shit," he muttered, eying the

Comments

[poison_lipstick]

Saffron didn't generally pay much attention to the goings-on of the clinic, unless she was visiting a patient, which for a while there seemed to be happening so often she'd joked with Dr. House that she ought to just start working in the place.

She'd been heading to the kitchen, but changed direction when she noticed the blood. There was undoubtedly a doctor on hand to help the injured person out, but there was also a chance said injured person was a friend of Saffron's. "What happened, sugar?" she said when she found the source, frowning slightly.

[thefbiagent]

"Aw, nothing." He squeezed out the towel, washing it with clean water and returning it to his calf. "Just tore up my knee on a run, s'all." He flashed a grin over at her. "Nothing to worry your head over."

[poison_lipstick]

"I'm glad I don't need to worry, then," Saffron said, expression relaxing. "I've had enough friends in here lately."

She smirked, and her voice took on that slightly babyish tone one used when talking to a child. "Sure you don't need me to kiss it better?" she teased.

[thefbiagent]

He nodded, smile crooked. It was fun and easy flirting with Helen, but- he'd been spending more time with Barbara, and he really didn't want to mess either up. Easy, Seeley, she's not suggesting you strip down and take her on one of the tables, just. Take it easy, big guy. "I'm a big boy." He threw a wink at her. "I'm sure your kisses are the key to perfect health, though."

[handandahalf]

Jon had come looking for Phèdre to let her know he had enough cider to trade her some for her party, but instead in the clinic he found Booth trying to clean up the blood flowing freely down his leg. "That doesn't look like much fun," he commented, brows furrowing together as he came over. "Do you want a doctor?"

[thefbiagent]

"Nah, it's just a scratch, really." He smiled, shrugging. "Tripped when I was out on a run, slammed my knee." He turned back, sopping up the blood with the towel. "It looks worse than it is, actually."

[handandahalf]

"Ah," Jon said, wincing in sympathy. "You're lucky, then. Here," he went on, going to the cabinet where the antiseptic was kept and taking out the bottle and a couple of the sticky bandages. These things were still a bit foreign to him (if he cut himself, he was as likely to stitch or bandage it himself than to come to the clinic for help) but he set them beside Booth with a sheepish smile. "I'm no medic, but I think you might need those."

[fallen_ancient]

Passing the clinic during her daily rounds, Morgan recognized broad shoulders ducking into the clinic. It pleased her to note that she recognized him by his shoulders, since that meant she had actually encompassed his physical form sufficiently without engaging intimately with him to do so. So she wore a soft, self-satisfied smile as she followed in after; if he had been moving under his own power, he could not be too terribly injured.

"Hello Seel--" Her eyes widened, stomach twisting in a very unpleasant reminder of her corporeality at the sight of so much blood. She did not shrink back or cover her mouth with her hand, but they did clench tightly at her waist. She swallowed hard before she advanced toward him. "Shall I get a doctor?"

[thefbiagent]

He glanced up at the clipped greeting, seeing Morgan. "Hey, Morgan," he turned back, cleaning out the towel in the sink, and getting more clean water on it before turning back to mop up his calf. "No, no, it's fine. It looks a lot worse than it is, actually." He took a double take at her face, noticing she was a little pale. "You all right?"

[fallen_ancient]

Her eyes tracked his movements, expression smoothing out despite the nausea that still threatened. "There seems to be a great deal of blood. You're certain you do not wish someone to tend it?" Perhaps if she did not think about how she felt, it would recede. "I'm fine." It had the sound of a child protesting it was not tired between yawns but she would not let the sight of blood master her when she had seen and permitted the blood of millions to be shed in her ten thousand years.

[thefbiagent]

He glanced down, mouth opening for a moment before snapping shut again. Oh, the blood. Sometimes he forgot how squeamish people could get about blood; and, of course, now he'd tracked it down the hallway. He quickly finished with his knee; it had stopped bleeding, and he'd cleaned up his calf well enough.

He stepped over to her side, squeezing her hand quickly, smiling. "It's really okay, I've got a lot more blood where that came from, and it's not going anywhere." He squeezed out the towel, dampening it with water again, and stooped to clean up the trail through the clinic.

[apoorupbringing]

Chase had followed the pretty freaky trail of blood down the hallway, more curious than grossed out, and peered around the doorway into the room it lead to.

He hadn't been in the clinic before.

"Hey, FBI."

[thefbiagent]

"Hey, kid." He glanced up; it was that brat from before who didn't like the military. "What, now you're a superhero and a doctor?" He chuckled to himself, tossing the towel in the sink.

[apoorupbringing]

"Nope, just thought some injured animal might have wandered in here from that gimpy trail down the hall. So, what happened, tried to oppress some free radicals and get kicked in the shin for your unwanted government horning-in?" he asked cheerfully.

[thefbiagent]

Booth arched an eyebrow. "'Free radicals'?" He shook his head, chuckling. "You really are from California." He pursed his lips, thinking. "Tripped on my way in from a run. No big, but it decided to bleed like hell anyway."

[misformutant]

"I hope you're not planning to bleed to death all over the sink because that would be terribly inconvenient," Monet said dryly, having followed the blood smears from outside the compound until she'd found the man. She hadn't known what to expect, maybe something to occupy her time before she went back out on patrol. Not that she was in an exact fit state to do it. Still it was only a couple of bruises, bad bruises that still hurt when she breathed-hmmm maybe she should get that checked out and a rather nasty looking black eye. It was no wonder she was in such a cheery mood. "Don't tell me, the other guy looks worse than you?"

[thefbiagent]

Booth looked over, mouth open with a response, but stopped and furrowed his brow. "Looks like you're the one who should be saying that." Damn. "And yeah, the root had it coming."

[misformutant]

"Mishap. I think I'll go with the trite saying of 'I fell over.' Besides I've had worse, much worse than this." Monet said simply, assessing his wound and raising an eyebrow. Men. They were always so melodramatic over the most minor of injuries. "It's not too bad but you're going to need a dressing or bandage of some sort. I hope you at least gave the... tree a good beating for the insult."

[thefbiagent]

He chuckled. "Yeah, a good-sized band aid and I'll be fine." He shrugged. "And believe me when I say that I've had worse."