Logs:First Aid

First Aid
Dramatis Personae Sarah, Steve
In Absentia	2019-08-04 With all the modern advances, I was kind of surprised Betadine was still in common use.
Location Montagues
<NYC> Montagues - Soho Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. There's a current, somewhat rare lull in customers that anyone who has ever worked in the service industry can appreciate. A moment to breathe, to catch up on tasks, to prepare for the next inevitable rush. Sarah had thought to use the time to tackle a mole hill of dishes before it became a mountain; then she placed a knife too close to the edge of the sink. Gravity did its job, and Sarah forgot the first rule of any kitchen: don't catch a falling knife. The pain along the edge of her palm is sharp, takes her breath away, but not enough to incapacitate her. She snatches up a clean rag from somewhere before the knife finishes clattering against the ground, presses it to her hand, lifts her hand above her head. Not her first cut. Just the first in a while. The pain is nothing compared to the embarrassment. Keeping pressure on the wound, Sarah sticks her head out front. "Hey Steve, can you grab the first aid kit?" Steve had been wiping down the counter, but spins around at the sound of Sarah's gasp. He surprise is brief. He darts a quick, appraising glance at Sarah's hand. Then snatches up the first aid kit under the register and goes to her, unzipping the case as he goes. "How much is that bleeding?" He's peering at the rag over the wound. "If it's a lot, we might need to leave that on there until it eases off, but if not, better to get it clean." "Didn't even check," she admits. Sarah peels back the edge of the rag, stomach clenched. Logically, she knows it would be hurting much worse if it were capital B bad, but that doesn't stop the flood of relief (or maybe adrenaline) when she sees the cut. It's barely a half inch long cut on the ball of her thumb, and while it hurts to move her thumb, she /can/ move it. Doesn't help the bleeding any though. "I can't tell how deep it is, but I think we can clean it?" Steve pulls on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and unwraps a sterile gauze pad, holding it at the ready. The sight of the blood doesn't seem faze him in the least, but he does offer a sympathetic, "Looks painful, but let's get it clean." He turns the faucet on warm -- not all the way -- and makes way for Sarah at the sink. "With all the modern advances, I was kind of surprised Betadine was still in common use." This as he waggles the bottle of povidone iodine. Sarah ignores the feeling in her stomach as she steps up to the sink, shooting Steve a grateful smile that's quick to fade once she turns back to the running faucet. This is the worst part. Even the Betadine promises a sting-free experience, she sees, glancing at the bottle in Steve's hand. "Some things just work out right on the first try, I guess." She's wasting water. And stalling. Best to get it over with. Quick like a bunny, Sarah shoves her injured hand, palm up under the running water. She's pulls it back almost immediately with a yelp of pain, grits her teeth, puts it back. "Well, it's not deep," she manages, angling her hand to let the water run under the little flap of hanging skin her palm now sports. She can only handle that for a few seconds before presenting the hand to Steve. Steve switches the water off and pats the area around the wound dry with gauze. "Even shallow cuts can sting a lot." He spritzes it now with the Betadine and then applies a fresh, dry gauze pad to it. His hands are large and calloused, but his touch is gentle, even where he applies pressure to the cut. "Here, hold this down, please." He keeps his fingers on the gauze over the cut until Sarah takes over, and takes out a small roll of gauze. His smile is small and sheepish. "This might be overkill, but it'll be more comfortable and secure." Sarah holds the gauze until Steve wraps it to stay in place, answering his smile with one of her own. "I don't mind overkill. You're wrapping up my drawing hand." Looks like she isn't going to be making any money in Central Park tomorrow. "Thanks, by the way. I would have made a mess of this one-handed." Steve's wince this time is fleeting but heartfelt. "Well, we certainly can't be too careful with it, then. I'm also --" He breaks off, brows wrinkling slightly over the word choice as he winds the gauze around Sarah's hand. "Well, I draw. And aspire to paint." He ties off the gauze with practiced ease and tucks the tail out of the way. "It's no problem at all. We can also switch places, once you get your nerves back where you want them." He nods in the direction of the sink. "Best you not get this soaking wet just yet, if you can avoid it." Sarah perks up, eyebrows raising. "Really?" she asks, excitement evident in her voice. It dims into cautiousness when she wonders, "Is that a... new thing?" Her time in school was short and nothing to brag about besides, but she would have remembered if it ever came up that Captain America was an artist. Though, it was harder and harder to equate 'Captain America' with 'her coworker Steve.' "We should bring our sketchbooks the next time we work together, so we can show off," Sarah suggests, instead of voicing any of that. "And yeah, switching places sounds good. Just... watch out for the knife." "Oh, no, I've been sketching since I was a boy." Steve's chuckle is just a touch embarrassed. "I even went to art school for a while, before I went into the Army." He strips off the gloves and tucks the unused first aid supplies back into the kit. "But yeah -- I'd love to see your art sometime, and show you mine. If you come down to Chimaera Arts in Brooklyn sometime, I can even show you my paintings. Such as they are." He blushes. Runs a hand through his hair. Flashes a quick and earnest smile as he puts the kit away. "I will definitely keep an eye out for it."