ArchivedLogs:Very Fine Hat
| Very Fine Hat | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 24 October 2014 ' |
| Location
<NYC> The Roost - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side | |
The second level of this house takes up less floor space than the ground floor, owing largely to the open sweep of balcony that overlooks half the home below. Up here the floors are in natural hardwood, polished and smooth. At one side of the balcony, again, a door leads over to the adjacent unit in the house. One door off the balcony leads to a quiet office space, with a wide metal-and-glass desk, long sofa and armchair opposite a large pair of bookshelves. A tall glass door in the large windows on the back wall leads out to a wide outdoor balcony overlooking the river. The second door leads to Dusk's bedroom, dominated by greens and greys. He has finally actually gotten himself a /proper/ bed to pair with his dresser and bookshelf, king-sized and settled low to the ground onto a solid wood base with a number of drawers built into it. His desk holds the desktop -- somewhat literally. The desk /itself/, with see-through glass body and softly glowing lights inside, has been configured to /be/ the computer case. Closer inspection of a pair of small decorative aquariums sitting to either side of its three monitors finds them to /also/ be computer cases, their inner workings submerged in a pale blue liquid on a bed of aquarium pebbles alongside plastic plants and little plastic castles or fake coral. In this bedroom, too, a door leads out to the same balcony outside. Capping off the balcony at its other end is a guest bedroom, large wood-frame bed with a small end table, dresser, a hammock-chair hanging from the ceiling in a corner, a desk by the window. Some time soon, ish, Hive is due to be at the hospital -- soon, ish. He's /not/ due to be at the hospital to get stitches all up his chest and /yet/, at the moment where he sits in something of a crumpled heap on his balcony, there's an inordinate amount of blood staining the front of his (torn) Grumpy Bear hoodie. He has his phone still clutched tightly in one hand, though he's staring a little blankly at its screen like he's not entirely sure what he /should/ be doing with it. Nearby him there is an Isra, dressed in nothing but the bright colors she has been wearing lately, lying (asleep?) on the balcony floor. Nearby him there is /also/ a Horus, dressed -- somewhat dressed -- in a dapper top hat. /He/ is being more helpful than Hive, stylus held in his beak and swyping quickly against the screen of his tablet to send Micah rapid texts.
Conveniently, Micah was already headed home to pick up Hive for his appointment. Inconveniently, his phone has been exploding with Panic notifications and texts as he was driving in. Entirely too fast. With a really slap-dash parking job and barely any care taken to turn the engine off on Lucille before running (sort of) into Geekhaus. No time for answering texts first, apparently. He comes skidding onto the balcony with a travel first aid kit in hand. “What happened? What's goin' on? What needs doin' first?” His eyes dart between Isra (hopefully out of the equation now?), Horus, and...bleeding Hive. That seems like the first place to go, swathes of bandaging pulled from his kit to press to the wound. “Usually I'd say call 911, but. Maybe it'd be better if no one official saw...this.” /This/ might be the bloody taloned gargoyle woman. “Once we can get 'is bleedin' stable, I'll take 'im in the van.” Horus's tablet goes from texting to speaking aloud, its computerized voice lacking any semblance of panic. 'She went all bit bit bitey tried to bite then ate Hive I came to save him swoop I swooped I saved okay she maybe collapsed first and then I swoop but I tried I put on the hat and everything why did she bite she doesn't bite okay maybe she bites Shane and B but not me not Hive is she angry did I do something.' It all comes out in a stream, unhurried but unpunctuated as well. Horus is rustling restlessly on the railing where he perches. Hive is not rustling. He stares at his phone until Micah is actually /beside/ him, at which point he sets it down nearby his -- fallen and perhaps slightly broken laptop. "I..." His arm curls tight and defensive against his chest when Micah pulls out bandaging, guarded like he's trying to protect the wound even from /care/. "She... I... don't know." There's an edge to his voice, strained and a little bit ragged. "She just fucking. Lunged. At Horus. Then me. Like something in her head..." He trails off, shaking his own head fiercely. "I don't know." “I doubt y'did anythin' wrong, Horus. There's...somethin' goin' on with her. Someone else should answer the Panic who'd be better equipped t'deal with her. I've gotta get Hive patched up enough to transport.” Micah kneels at Hive's side, persistent in his attempts to staunch the wound. “Hive, honey, y'gotta let me in to stop the bleedin'.” He doesn't try to pry Hive's arms away, but rather shake-wiggles them in a very not-attack fashion to convince them to move out of the way or their own. 'You answer cyborg Micah superhero Micah,' Horus implores, afterwards stabbing his stylus in Isra's general direction. 'You fix it.' Hive's eyes have shifted slowly, away from his phone, away from Micah, back to Isra's unconscious body. "She needs help," he says slowly, arm staying tight against his chest for a few moments longer before reluctantly moving. There's a tremor in his bony form, his face too pale -- maybe with pain? There's certainly a good deal of blood in his sweatshirt, the gash beneath torn there by a hard strike from one taloned wing. "I don't. Don't know what's going on with her. She just. Just attacked, I didn't. Know she was going to..." “Mostly just medic Micah right now, I'm afraid. If she's attackin' folks, I'm not much equipped t'stop it. An' gettin' /her/ somewhere could be dangerous. I s'pose if we got her tied an' cuffed good, then drag 'er to the Clinic.” All of this is said while Micah's hands are busy working on Hive, first just on staunching the wound, then on dressing it. “If we had things t'restrain Isra, that'd help. Just not sure how we'll get 'er in the vehicle considerin' how /tall/ she is an' all t'be carryin'.” He nods at Hive's concern. “Somebody who knows more 'bout this stuff should check her out, too.” 'Hive panicked button panicked lots of people get that right Isra got that maybe Joshua will come he could take her. To the Clinic. I will stand guard,' Horus promises, dipping his head and shifting a wing to nudge his hat more securely onto his head. 'Have the guard hat, I'm ready.' Hive's jaw clenches as Micah works on the wound, but that doesn't stop a ragged groan from being expelled through his teeth. "Ohfuck," he mutters, reflexively trying to jerk away but then just gripping tight against Micah's thigh. "/I/ know more. About -- I should. I should /know/ I should have fucking seen -- I couldn't stop it. I couldn't even /tell/." “Yes, that was the best thing t'do. Other people should be comin' an' most of 'em are better equipped t'handle...anythin' but straight up medical emergencies than I am.” Micah shrugs faintly, expressions and hands tied up in getting Hive's wound dressed well enough to move him. “That's good, Horus. If anythin' gets too out of hand, you fly off though, okay?” He very lightly restrains Hive with one hand, trying to keep him from moving about too much and worsening the wound. “Honey, you're sick right now. An' we're workin' on gettin' you better. An' you're so close t'finished with it. We'll get Joshua an' Matt t'help out as soon as we can with figurin' the rest out with your head. Now, I'm gonna call Joshua real quick just t'make sure if he can get here, which'd be easiest. If he can't, I'm gonna need t'carry y'to the van.” “Someone will be here. Soon. I pressed the panic… I panicked.” Hive is still tense, his breathing rough as he curls slightly back inward, arm wrapping against his chest once more. “... don’t know. If it’s close to finished. That’s what -- we have to go. We’re supposed to go. Now.” ‘I’ll give you a hat,’ volunteers Horus, sidling back and forth on the railing. ‘Not /this/ hat a sick hat. A getting-better hat.’ Hive huffs out a sharp breath at this, closing his eyes and sinking in against Micah. “Thanks. I could use -- {I’m sorry,}” comes in gruff Thai, one eye cracking open to look at Horus again. “I should have noticed. Should have stopped --” He glances back to Isra, a shudder passing through him. “I couldn’t have stopped her. Stopped anything.” “Was the best thing y'could've done, sugar. That was good.” Micah finishes off the dressing, then pulls out his phone to text Joshua:
“Once we get you where y'need t'be taken care of for this, I'll let 'em know we're runnin' a little late for your appointment. It'll be okay.” Micah turns a little to offer Horus a smile. “I think that'd be excellent. Everyone could use a feel better hat.” The smile quickly melts into furrowed brows, lips pursed slightly to shush at Hive. “Shh, honey. Couldn't Horus or I've stopped her, neither. She's pretty formidable. Ain't no shame in not bein' able t'take /her/ in a fight. Y'did what needed doin'. You an' Horus are /okay/. An' we'll get the wound fixed up. Don't y'fret. Takin' care of you's step one. Whoever answers the panic call can step two an' take care of her, as well. Everybody's gettin' taken care of.”
"... gonna have to reset the counter on 'Days Since Last...'" Joshua's voice just /appears/ at the edge of the balcony nearly immediately after his text comes. He's dressed for work, still, FDNY Paramedic uniform more than a little bit rumpled and an exhausted shadow to his eyes. "-- Wait, last what? Who took a chunk out of you, that seems like cheating, dude. Easy pickings." Hive snorts, sharp and maybe at least a little amused, though it's hard to tell through the gritted-teeth grimace on his face still. "S'okay. Horus backed me up." 'Backed up,' Horus agrees, 'swooped in, saved the day. All the days. No wait only today. OK but I saved it a little bit. Isra ate him can you fix it?' "Can you fix /her/?" Hive's words still come through his teeth. "S'gonna be harder to. Fucking. Move." “Hm.” Micah replies, not quite making it to any kind of laughter at Joshua's joking. “'parently somethin' went wrong with Isra an' she attacked. Hive hit his panic button, so more people should come. Him, I figure I might be able t'carry if I need to. Her? Let’s say s'gonna take more'n me an' Horus. Even with really good hats.” His lips twist into a rueful half-smile. “Also, Hive's got an appointment that it'd be better if we could make it to.” "I got that panic call." Joshua is slipping his own phone out of his pocket, swiping something quickly on it. "Flicker's closer, thought he'd be here first." "Maybe the Clinic has an Incident, too," Hive suggests, closing his eyes again. Joshua shrugs, moving over to stoop down beside Hive, one hand dropping to rest on the telepath's neck. With the bandaging in place it's hard to really see the work he does, but a couple minutes later he straightens. "Go on, then. Might want to wash up before you --" Something tightens, slightly, in his expression. "Get your news. I'll get her to the clinic." “We'll just have to reset /all/ the counters today.” Micah offers Hive a hand to get up. “Thanks, Joshua. You...we should at least put in a clean shirt. An' take off all the bandagin' I just put on. Not gettin' out of your appointment quite so easily, it'd seem.” Hive's teeth stay gritted even once Joshua is done his working. He's slow to get to his feet, healed, maybe, but still down some /blood/ and still no small bit shaken-up. "Can't do that to my fucking /computer/, can you?" He's not very hopeful. Joshua just hitches his eyebrows up, looking from Hive to the cracked laptop and back with a short huff of a snort and no /verbal/ answer. Hive keeps his hand on Micah's arm even once he's been helped to his feet, shoulders sagging when he turns for the door. "Well. Guess I'd better..." He looks over at Joshua, then back to the door. "Right. Let's. Go." | |
