ArchivedLogs:Recovery Room

Recovery Room
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Jax, Micah, Isra, Eri
In Absentia	15 February 2015 '
Location <NYC> The Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side
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. Sundays are quiet quiet quiet at the clinic, not open for business in any of its departments. From the top floor to the bottom mostly deserted -- mostly. Down in the basement, though, a few of the rooms have been occupied by the patients from yesterday that the hospitals don't /want/ to take. Flicker has left his room just at the moment, though. Maybe lonely maybe just restless, dressed in scrub pants and a copious amount of bandaging he's seated himself by Jax's bed. "-- Jane yelled at you yet?" Maybe his grin should be sympathetic. Mostly, though, it's kind of amused. Jax is sort of in bed. Sort of /on/ bed, sketchpad on his lap and pencil held awkwardly in one bandaged-up hand. "I don't know if I could say /yell/ so much," he hedges, a trace of amusement in his own voice. "I got like seventeen hundred years'a debrief though I swear she wanted t'know exactly how many hairs was on the guy's head. Mostly," he admits, a fonder note to his tone, "she was cranky at me for disobeyin' her orders -- on not gettin' hurt." The very (very) slowly developing sketch on his page is Flicker -- sort of. Though he's melting, coming /apart/, Flicker with half his face and arm tearing off and rupturing into a storm of -- flower petals. His hand moves very careful-slow. Micah has been at the clinic /a lot/ since he was first allowed Saturday, primarily leaving to give Spence breaks from visiting and to take care of things at home. His trips back and forth have at least netted more and more creature comforts to the people he visits. Fuzzy blankets, fluffier pillows, boxes of favourite desserts, computing devices, clothes. Whatever is requested and allowed at the time. In addition to a knapsack full of goodies, this time he comes with an insulated casserole dish carrier in hand. His other arm is full of layers of outerwear, his forearm crutches lashed to his back, lending him the air of some sort of traveller toting all his goods. Probably the rest of his outfit ruins the image a little: Serenity hoodie over chocolate-brown tee (on which a stegosaurus curses a T-rex for its 'sudden but inevitable betrayal') and tan henley, lined jeans, and snow boots. As soon as he finds places to ditch all the gear, he makes his way over for (gentle!) hugs. "How're y'guys doin'? I brought food." Only moments later, the door opens yet again to admit Isra--wings-first, side-stepping awkwardly. She carries a canvas tote under one arm, a nylon satchel under the other, a heavy green-and-gray cloak draped over that same arm, and a bundle of flowery blankets in the crook of the opposite elbow. Her skin, an uncanny purple-green duochrome that shifts with the angle of the light, sports delicate frost patterns in sparkling ice-blue, densest on the membranes of her wings and sparsest about her face and hands. She wears a long-sleeved white linen dress, decorated along the edges with a scattering of bright lacy flowers that look as though they have just sprouted from the snow. As a concession to the weather, she has donned thick, green marled arm- and legwarmers, as well as thick black neoprene toesocks fitted to her elongated feet, talons and all. "Good evening, gentlemen." It takes her a bit of maneuvering to get clear of the door, but once she does the various items do not seem to weigh her down all that much. The flowery bundle in her arm stirs when she shrugs the canvas tote off of her shoulder. "Dusk relayed a request for soft drinks. 'Fancy' soft drinks? I have done my best to oblige." This news just brightens Flicker's grin. He nods, maybe unsurprised by the answer. "Pretty insubordinate of you. Though if she's not careful she's going to ruin her --" He breaks off, looking up when the door opens. He doesn't exactly return Micah's hug, down one arm and with his other not entirely well functioning. Does lean into it though, bopping his head lightly against Micah's shoulder. "Hey. Hey /food/. Sweet. Food /and/ fancy drinks. Jax we're getting /spoiled/." His brows lift to Jax. "We should get blown up more often." Jax opens his mouth, closes it again. There's a smile caught on his lips, looking kind of lopsided owing to the bandaging on his face -- it makes his wince look that much more scrunched up, too. "I think /last/ time I got blowed up I didn't even have a stomach?" His nose wrinkles up. "Seems a bit of a gamble, y'ask me. How 'bout people jus' bring us treats on account'a we're awesome. -- Thanks, y'all." This is brighter. Cheerful. "Braved the freezin' an' everything." Returned or not, Micah's hugs are every bit as enthusiastic. "Y'all get blown up often /enough/. Like y'don't get fed reg'lar anyhow. I made sweet potato an' butternut squash casserole. S'a side of cashew kale. Just let me know when y'all want. The carrier's insulated an' has a hot pack in, so it'll keep a bit." He shivers at the mention of freezing. "S'like somebody angered a bitter wind god out there." Hugs delivered, he holds his arms out a little for Isra. "Y'want I should take the little one so's y'got arms for other things for a minute?" "You need not sustain injuries of any sort to earn a little spoiling," Isra says equably. Then, with a thin smile flashing fang-tips, "But you already know that." Still mid-bag-shuffle, she turns to Micah with palpable relief, offering up the weakly squirming pile of blanket and infant. "Please do. They usually cling quite well, but cannot seem to manage it at present and I keep thinking I might drop them." One wing wraps around Micah in a quick hug. Relieved of Eridani, she deposits the nylon bag in a chair and drapes the cloak over the back. "I think I have three kinds of ginger ale--maybe four--and some fruit sodas, the same sort I've seen around the house, though the flavors may be a bit random." She does not bother emptying the tote out just yet, though, but wraps a careful wing around each patient. "How are you two? Mending well, I hope?" "It's been /mad/ long since the last blowing up." Flicker says this like he's /put out/. Like they're /off their game/. Like they're ruining a /streak/. /Huff/. He shifts a little bit closer to Jax's bed, glancing briefly to the squirming bundle of infant. Then back down to Jax. "Back to work in no time, I'm sure." His eyes flick up only quickly, again. Small lift of brows. "How're /they/?" "Things have been quiet," Jax allows, with a small curl of smile. "Guess we were overdue." His head tips, thoughtful, for a moment. "Did know a wind god, once. Wasn't so much bitter as -- kinda -- capricious." He sets his pencil down on his sketchpad, leaning into Isra's wing with a sleepy closing of his eye. "Tired. /Tired/. I think mendin' jus' fine. Makes me sleepy it turns out. Oh /gosh/ do I want sugar. All the sugar. How's Eri? How's Kay an' Ion they was /frettin'/ I was half surprised /they/ didn't light this place on fire even /afore/ we got bombed. -- I didn't earn no spoilin' I invited that man /in/." On any other day, Eri would warrant more /equipment/ to handle. As it is, Micah just slides his liner gloves on before taking over the flowery bundle of babyvampire. "Hey there, Rabbitslayer. You're gonna be just fine, right? Magic. +4 bonus." A gloved finger slides in a gentle pet along the infant's head. "Ain't no such thing as too little time 'tween explosions, 'less you're watchin' action movies. You boot us out the /second/ y'wanna sleep, sugar," he informs Jax at the report of tiredness. "You invited in a person who looked like they needed help. That /was/ your job. An' then y'contained what coulda been so much worse an explosion, hon. Think y'done earned an' then some." He nods to include Flicker. "Both'a you. Big damn heroes. Again." "I understand that most physicians recommend a good long break between explosions." Isra opens the tote and pulls out a four-pack of Izze sodas, all different colors, to set down on the table beside Jax. "This is a clinic; the man appeared to need medical attention; you did the right thing for the wrong person, but everyone lived to tell the tale. Though I did not mean that you have earned spoiling solely by your heroism yesterday. Just generally." She glances at Eri, more or less quiescent again in Micah's arms, not even trying to bite the hand that pets them. "They're eating again, but still not as much as they ought, and we have no real notion why." Her face shows no expression, but her ears shift back slightly and her tail sways faster. "Kay and Ion--seem quite confident the child will have a swift recovery, but I think that more bravado than anything." Flicker frowns, deep, looking up at Eridani with a small compression of lips. "Doesn't look much -- recover... ing." Small shake of head. He doesn't seem to share Micah's optimism. He sits up a little straighter, starting to reach towards an Izze but stopping. Wincing. His next reach is sloooower. Fingers curl hesitantly around the bottle. Brows lift to Isra as he also lifts the bottle towards her. "Mind getting this for me? -- I think after this Jane and Dr. Saavedro are going to be having a /talk/ about protocol." /This/ earns -- a grimace. "/Generally/ I ain't..." Jax trails off, a deep red flush spreading up his face as his gaze lowers briefly to his hand. He looks back up instead at Eridani, brows slowly furrowing as well. "Mmnh." It's -- not particularly sharing Micah's Just Fine, either. "Shouldn't they be tryin' to eat you?" He exhales quick and sharp. Kind of amused? Maybe? But maybe a little tired. "Kay and Ion ain't never been short on /confidence/." His own head -- just shakes. He settles back, slowly, in his bed. "If Jane had her way the Clinic wouldn't even /take/ no patients, she thinks they're /all/ a security risk. She never been a fan of emergency procedures. But what do we do, let people bleed out on the sidewalk?" Micah's brow furrows at Isra's further explanation. "So I should be takin' the updates from Ion with a rather large grain of salt's what you're sayin'. He seemed t'think things was pretty in the clear." He chews on his bottom lip for a time. "They used t'eat fine... Have they done allergy testin'? S'there a chance they need somethin' specific t'human blood or somethin' like that? Some protein? Might need t'get 'em set on a program like Dusk..." His shoulders roll in, but only a little, considering there is an infant in his arms. "I mean. There's a range of options from metal detectors t'bomb sniffin' dogs. S'just a matter of how crazy y'wanna go on protection at the expense of bein' a welcomin' an' useful medical facility." Isra takes the bottle and twists off the cap easily before returning it to Flicker. "No, their condition does not really look promising," she admits, ears drooping a touch as she pulls out a four-pack of Bruce Cost ginger ales--also all different colors--from the canvas tote. "I don't believe they've gotten around to running any tests yet, since Eri's doctor also sustained injuries in the blast." With a small, fatalistic shrug, she folds her wings down across her shoulders so that the pale blue membranes drape over her like a cloak of supple ice. "I imagine they will need to compromise...somewhere short of the 'not accepting patients' mark." "Huh." Flicker's brows lift for a moment. Slightly puzzled, though only brief. "S'not what he said to me. I mean. Eri's doctor did just -- get. A little... blown up." With a nod towards Isra as she says much the same. The lift of his shoulder is hesitant. Small-hitch. Clearly doesn't want a /lot/ of movement there. "Mostly just sounded like he's /hoping/ they like the fresh blood. And that Dr. Kriger recovers quick." He takes the bottle from Isra, knuckles bopping lightly against her talons. Resting there a moment longer than necessary. "They have a really good team. At least." It's a stiff motion that brings the bottle to his lips. "Already got metal detectors. X-ray. We just skip it when people have -- emergency. But." Shrug. "Guess someone figured that for a weakness." "Metal detectors, X-rays, a round-the-clock security team of guards. Armed guards, if y'count superpowers." Jax frowns, slightly. "Not t'mention Hive /built/ the place like a fortress. I mean, the whole thing's organized with the assumption folks is gonna be tryin' to kill us an' our patients an' -- ain't entirely been /wrong/. But. Kinda be missin' the point to... stop havin' the patients." The breath he lets out is heavy. His eye closes. "Nurse Granados weren't hurt none an' s'an -- exotics vet in for a consult an' -- but. I -- hopefully. Dr. Kriger'll be back in soon. T'ain't -- a /ton/ of mutant pediatricians about." "It's...I think he wanted t'give me good news an' I wanted t'hear it. Not the best combination for complete an' accurate representations." Micah blushes faintly at this admission. He holds Eri a little closer to his chest, rocking slightly from foot to foot. "Has anybody thought of bringin' in special abilities on this? Maybe Joshua or Kate could get a sense of what's up? An' even just bein' /near/ Corey makes folks feel better. Small boost could do the little'un wonders. Since the traditional medical route's a little blocked right now. Might could use a detour." The security question just has his head shaking. "Dunno what else y'all could reasonably /do/ short of havin' a teep sittin' at the door checkin' folks' intentions. Not sure anybody'd be real up for that kinda invasive procedure just t'get in, though." Flicker's frown returns at the suggestion of bringing in Joshua or Kate or Corey. /Deeply/. Lips compressing thin-hard. He takes a long gulp of his drink. Shrugs his shoulder again. "Don't know if anyone -- well. Guess you just did." Slowly gets to his feet, wincing, unsteady. "Don't mention the psi thing around Jane." A briefly amused smile crosses his face. "She'd /try/ it. -- Think I need sleep. Save me some." Casserole, judging by the tip of his soda bottle towards the food. He maybe doesn't trust /walking/ back to his own room, leaving Jax's room in a blur of motion instead. "... Actually," Jax admits with a crinkle of his nose, a small blush, "Jane /wanted/ to have telepaths checkin' everyone's brains when security was gettin' developed. Got downvoted on /that/ though. For -- a, uh, a lotta reasons." He tips his chin up to Flicker. Then back down -- to the picture of Flicker. His own lips twitch, faintly downwards. "I don't know what Kay an' Ion's thinkin', honey-honey," he says, and, a little more gently, "but whatever it is, s'their call." He struggles slowly back upright. "Think /I'm/ good for some'a that dinner though, now. Think y'all might join me in some?" "S'just a suggestion, sugar. I was gonna talk to 'em on it. Just didn't wanna rehash somethin' as already'd been talked through if it had. S'gotta be a way t'figure things for 'em 'til medical can figure 'em. Time ain't always on our side, though." Micah nods to Flicker as he takes his leave. "Y'better bet there'll be some left. I always make too much, an' it was /for/ you, b'sides. Sleep well, sugar." Another nod, this time, is in answer to Jax. "I can only imagine the number of objections that'd've brought. He leans in to give Jax a peck on the unburned cheek, shifting the bundle of infant over into one arm with a practiced ease, and moves to start unpacking the foodstuffs. "Brought enough t'share. Figured y'all could use the company."