(Untitled)

[twoeyesonthesky]

The door from Milliways opens onto a stairwell in Alnwick Castle. "I never did manage to get the door to the Bar to open on purpose, except when we had a lot of people here who had to go back," he says apologetically. "Everyone all right? The infirmary's two levels down."

Comments

[sime_channel]

"Just fine." Suzi says with a nod, face firm (although not ever hard), "Oh..ohhh...Gens." It's a beautiful thing, to her Sime senses; the nager of Established Gens zlinned distantly around the castle.

[sime_channel]

"Yes." Suzi says quietly, "And I can keep it up for days. It doesn't take anything out of me." She nods, frowning slightly, and then offers Helen the bag, "Call me Suzi." Then she moves to the closest person and starts washing him, gently. She'll let the actual doctor have a shot at helping before she does.

Her hands are exceedingly gentle. Almost the first thing she did as a Sime was wash burned people. It's a little traumatic, but she's not going to take it out on the wounded.

[twoeyesonthesky]

"Oh good," says Helen. "We've about come to the end of our painkillers. Getting these men drunk just now would be a bad idea."

She accepts the bag and turns to work on one of the men who had been on the fifty cal's platform when the dragon flamed. The man Suzi is working on essays a smile, but there's not much facial motion left to him. "Y'don't sound English," he rasps. "Where... y'from?"

[sime_channel]

"I was born in America." Suzi says, quietly, "But I've been living abroad for a long time." Long if prior to that you'd never been farther than two weeks on a horse, anyway. "My home was in Louisiana."

[twoeyesonthesky]

"Hnn," mumbles the man. "Sorry to hear that." Or something along those lines, anyway. His speech is pretty indistinct, and he's suddenly too exhausted to want to keep his eyes open.

[sime_channel]

Which is something of a relief, as Suzi is any world's worst liar. She finishes her gentle washing, and bandaging, and moves on to the next. Repeat for a few men, and then...

the leader. He's bad. He's really bad, and not doing well, and Suzi takes a deep breath before absently shoving her sleeves up. It's habit and it's normal and she wants to zlin him better so that she can help.

She didn't even think.

[twoeyesonthesky]

Most of the people in the room don't notice. Quinn is working on one of the Americans himself, after all, and Helen is too busy trying to keep another one awake so she can assess possible neurological damage to even look in Van Zant's direction. But there's a thing: not all of the Americans in the castle today are in this room. The majority of them weren't even wounded. Most of them have been milling around the castle, annoying the residents with their general attitudes and glowering at anyone who hasn't shown appropriate awe (for the dragonslayers) or concern (for their injured).

Some of them have come back to check on their wounded. And they're standing in the door, staring in abject horror at the English freakshow.

[sime_channel]

Her laterals aren't extended, at least, which is probably the only thing that doesn't get her mobbed right away. The handling tentacles are, for the most part, wrapped around her arms in their usual resting confirmation but...she needs another bandage, and her hands are busy holding things in place.

So a dorsal reaches out and picks one up to add to the collection she's tenderly setting on the burned man.

[twoeyesonthesky]

"What the fuck is going on here?" demands the American, and there's a ka-click noise. Everyone who's lived through the industrialized bit of the twentieth century probably knows that noise by now.

That's what happens when the safety gets switched off.

[sime_channel]

Suzi...is not one of those people, actually. She's heard about guns, and seen them on movies, but a movie safety and a real one don't actually sound very similar. She's also not the person in charge, so it doesn't occur to her that they're objecting to her.

She'll get that in a minute.

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn and Helen, on the other hand...

"Put that thing down, Lieutenant," says Helen firmly as she rises to her feet.

"Like hell I will!"

"She's helping here, mate, there's nothing wrong-"

"The hell there's not! Get the freak away from Van Zant! Now!"

"Suzi," says Quinn, eyes wide and hands up, "he means you."

[sime_channel]

"...meep?" Suzi says, setting the bandages down and backing away from Van Zant, eyes wide and hands behind her back. If your arms are the most vulnerable part of you, that's what you do.

She's totally trying to hide behind Quinn, now.

[twoeyesonthesky]

And the gesture makes sense. Unfortunately, to the man with the gun that looks like an admission of guilt. His eyes harden and his expression becomes something bordering on a snarl. "That's right," he says. "Stay the hell away from him-"

"She was helping!" Quinn says. "She's better at this than-"

"The hell she was! Don't you dare let that freakshow near him! I don't know what you people're playing at but you do not get to fuck around with our leader!" He gestures with the gun. "Out! Out, the both of you!"

"If he has to go," says Helen coolly, eyeing the sudden arrival of several more American soldiers at the door, "then I'm going with him."

"Fine," snaps the one with the gun. "Leave the supplies on the table. We'll take care of it from here. You and your fucking freak've done enough damage already."

[sime_channel]

Suzi would like to shout that she's not a freak. She isn't going to do that, either, she's just going to keep right on hiding behind Quinn. After a moment, though, she says, "I didn't hurt anyone, and I won't. I have a biological imperative to help people in need."

But she is used to being treated like a freak. She's a Householding Sime.

[twoeyesonthesky]

"Like hell," says the American. "D'you think we didn't notice you people didn't want us here? That guy tried to talk Van Zant out of the mission, and now they let the likes of you near him- I don't think so! Out! All of you, right now!"

[sime_channel]

Although Suzi is a genuinely good woman, she's not a saint. She considers, briefly, removing her nageristic influence and letting the men return to pain. That thought is removed, instantly, and she nods once before walking out of the room; head high and face neutral.

"If you change your mind I am Hajene Darley ambrov Farris, and I will still be willing to assist at any point."