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 Posted: Mon Feb 09, 2015 3:36 pm
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A rather long, rather loud yawn cut the silence in the break room as Ezekiel helped himself to his third cup of coffee for the evening. It had started at dinner--black, no sugar. Not exactly tasty, but it did help to wake his a** up--and another on his way to the infirmary. Now, changed into his scrubs and ready for what was to be the fourth in a string of long and taxing shifts, he was trying to slam that last little bit of caffeine before whomever was in charge of shift change found him and assigned him duties.
This time he added a little cream and sugar, just enough to kill the bitterness from hour old, burnt coffee. Someone needed to brew another pot, but that sure as s**t was not going to be Zeke. At least not right that moment.
Maybe later, when he'd been at it for six hours and he was running on fumes. Time would tell.
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Posted: Tue Feb 10, 2015 4:52 pm
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Leslie arrived already in scrubs: too big, dark blue, and safety pinned to be a little less baggy (thanks to Abbi, mostly), a scowl already written on his face. It was another late shift doomed to run long, but there hadn't been a single shift in the Infirmary that hadn't.
He showed up without looking around much, and was halfway through his coffee before realizing who it was, exactly, that he was stuck with.
Awesome. Leslie grimaced, exhaling sharply.
"It's you," he said, flat. "I hope you know what you're doing in here. I'm not a ******** babysitter."
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Posted: Tue Feb 10, 2015 5:59 pm
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This was either going to be a long night, or a long night with provided entertainment. Zeke liked to think perhaps the latter, or at least hoped for it.
Leslie grabbed a stack of charts, and Zeke finished off the last of his coffee, tossing the empty cup at the trash bin. It bounced off the edge and landed neatly inside.
"Precise enough to make make any seamstress proud." He was cocky, but usually not without reason. Zeke had had lots of practice stitching up patients over the last few months, there was no shortage of accidents and injuries.
Hands now free, he steepled his fingers, eyeing Leslie over the tips. "Where are they banishing us to?" Because it didn't matter what ward or hall or duty they stuck him on, they all felt like a punishment to Zeke.
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Posted: Thu Feb 12, 2015 7:58 pm
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"Ahuh," Leslie muttered, doubting doubted Zeke's claims. "Guess we'll see, since people can't seem to ********> spar inside the ******** wards," he hissed, pulling back a curtain with a vicious stare at the Moon inside, bleeding freely from around the neck.
"Just random trauma intake s**t today, no mission went bad. Christ only knows that it'd be more interesting if one had."
Leslie squinted at the trainee, and started getting antiseptic ready. "Any other injuries we can't see?" he asked, bored.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 3:59 pm
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Leslie could doubt all he wanted, it did little to ruffle the taller Mist's feathers. His pride did not hinge on the opinions of a yappy chihuahua. His partner for the day was the poster child for small dog syndrome. Loud, obnoxious, aggressive. Zeke supposed it was meant to be intimidating. It wasn't.
Arms folded, he stood at Leslie's back as the curtain was drawn aside, and his head tipped subtly to one side as he eyed the injured hunter on the gurney. "I'm sure it's much worst at the tail end of missions." Zeke had yet to experience the nightmare fuel, but he'd heard plenty. Made him curious in a way that was likely not healthy.
As Leslie got the antiseptic and questioned their patient, Zeke went for the packets of sutures and a box of gloves, gaze twitching back up to the Moon as he waited for an answer. If they went by blood alone, the neck seemed to be the worst of it, but he had learned quickly not to put anything past the morons on the island. They managed to roll into the infirmary with stupidest ******** injuries.
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Posted: Tue Feb 24, 2015 1:22 am
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Yappy chihuahua or not, Leslie was a steadfast dog when it came to infirmary work. He had no desire to be flashy or even the best: just consistent and efficient, with enough know how on how to navigate his way around the needs of every annoying ******** patient-- or, if needed, to page in someone with more experience than he had.
"Mostly just heard the stories, here. Weirdest so far was, s**t, after those weird rage benders and sad benders." Leslie let out a low whistle. "So many people ranting at their former bitches, ex bitches, would be bitches, and the fallout of that."
The moon denied any additional injuries, thank god.
"You can take it," Leslie denoted, gesturing at the trainee. "I'll do the paperwork while you work."
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Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2015 6:21 pm
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"Sounds like a lot of useless drama," he noted mildly as he pulled out a syringe and a little bottle of local anesthetic. In all honesty Zeke would have loved to have been around during something like that. One of his greatest pleasures in life was pushing ******** buttons to see just what made people tick, what they might do. He imagined, given heightened moods, that'd be a whole lot easier.
Gloves on, he measured the anesthetic and applied it to a few places around the wound, then sat back to give it a moment to kick in. The moon hadn't so much as twitched at the needle, which was a refreshing change of pace.
Waved on, Zeke touched a pinky against the worst of the wound, testing, and when their patient didn't react he grabbed one of the suture packs and opened it, drawing out the thread and curved needle within so he could begin stitching the thing up.
Neat, even little stitches that backed up his claims of being more than competent.
"So it's been quiet for a while, then?" This to Leslie as he worked, attention very narrowly focused, but that didn't mean he couldn't carry on a conversation. At this point the Moon's presence was fairly superfluous. They were there, but not really.
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2015 7:28 pm
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"Yeah, well. I read twitter and s**t, but mostly America and some others yap at me. Maybe talk to that Harrison ********? He does a ton of PSAs or whatever every now and again."
Without missing a beat, Leslie looked at the test subject at hand. "Clothes off." He drew the curtain around the bed, sequestering them from view.
He slopped some of the medicinal creams together into a small paper bowl, mixing them together with a stirring stick. The cream, too, began to change colours: not rainbow, but into a minty sort of teal, and finally settling on a viridian green. With plastic gloves on, Leslie began to lather it onto the hives, talking to Zeke unflapped. Disgusted, but unflapped.
"Trying to prepare for the future and s**t, then?"
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