ArchivedLogs:First Patient
{{ Logs | cast = Iolaus, Jackson, Micah | summary = Micah gets patched up after being shot. | gamedate = 2013-09-26 | gamedatename = 26 September 2013 | subtitle = And /there's/ some irony. | location = <NYC> The Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side | categories = Citizens, Humans, Mutants, The Mendel Clinic, Iolaus, Jackson, Micah | log = With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most /distinctive/ new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building.
Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction.
Perhaps, all things considered, it is a good thing that the interior design of the clinic is not yet fully complete. It certainly would be more inconvenient to have had to operate on someone if the hallway to one of the exam rooms still didn't have plastic covering over the carpet, and the table still partially shrink-wrapped. Helps with the clean up. The downside is the lack of beds - some of the last things scheduled to be delivered down into the hazardous patient rooms deep in the clinic, the irradiation required means a delay in shipment. That means Micah has - albeit with many blankets underneath for padding - had to lie down and recover after surgery on a couch in one of the waiting rooms. Easy access to the pharmacy, at least, and Iolaus has made sure that Micah was feeling as little pain as possible, even considering the lack of general anesthetic. Pharmaceuticals for fun and profit!
Jackson has taken up residence on the floor at the base of Micah's bed-couch, sitting there cross-legged with his laptop and drawing tablet in hand; the large boxy portfolio case beside him is strong evidence that he came here straight from school and hasn't left again since. He's dressed for the cooler fall weather, black and purple jeans liberally adorned with pockets and zippers and straps hung from silver D-rings, red 'All My Heroes Have FBI Files' t-shirt with a sky-blue Care Bears sweatshirt over it; a metallic silvery faux-leather jacket is folded atop his case.
Nominally, he's working; at least his laptop is open and he has his stylus in hand, tablet in his lap where he sits on the floor. His eye focuses far more on Micah than on his screen, though.
Micah is /confused/ when his eyelids crack open to entirely too much light. Blood loss-confused and disorientation-confused and medication-confused and loss of consciousness-confused all rolled into one. A little discomfort-sound comes from the back of his too-dry throat. He tries to move...something. A louder discomfort-sound answers the attempt. He blinks several times and forces his eyes to stay open to regard the completely unfamiliar surroundings, though one eye has a harder time from the swollen split in his brow where his head had met the corner of a stair a bit too up-close and personal.
"Micah!" Jackson sits up straighter at that small noise, stylus and tablet set aside as he gets up onto his knees to reach for Micah's hand. "Oh gosh honey-honey you're awake." He's letting go of Micah's hand again almost as soon as he reached for it, to drag his case closer and take his water bottle out of its side pocket. He uncaps it, moving up towards Micah's head with his kneeling instead. "I have water, honey-honey. Do you want water? Hydration is -- is good."
Micah blinks again at the sudden riot of colour that is Jax, though the familiar face finally breaks through his confusion. He tries to smile, lips admittedly dry and a little cracked. “Jax,” is all he manages to say at first, voice raspy. He lifts his head up to facilitate drinking and winces at the increase of the throbbing in it. “Should do.” His eyes finally move to scan himself, but is only able to survey his bruised arms for the blanket covering the rest of him. “What... Did I get kicked by a horse? An' thrown off it?” He thinks on that for a second. “Other way. Thrown, then kicked.”
Jax curls his hand gently underneath Micah's head, supporting it as he tips the bottle to Micah's lips, allowing a slow trickle of cool water into Micah's mouth. He watches the other man carefully, lowering the bottle when it seems like Micah has finished sipping from it. "I -- don't think there was no horses, no. You was in Harlem -- Io an' one of his doctors patched you up. Um. I don't think this is quite how Hive wanted t'show you his clinic but I sure am glad this place was done."
Micah lets his head rest back into Jax's hand gratefully, trying to swallow the water slowly. “Harlem,” he says thoughtfully. “The church! Jax, they were attackin' an' things were all smoke'n fire an' the people weren't out yet.” He struggles to get up despite the loud protest of his abdominal muscles, managing to prop onto his elbows before the prospect of moving further becomes too overwhelming. “They're gonna...too many people are still there. An' all the ones in the apartments. We couldn't get 'em out because the streets'n the exits were already full of people with guns.”
"Shh, Micah-honey, no,
