It was a bright spring morning when Big Macintosh limped into the hospital waiting room. He was favoring his back left leg, but didn't seem to be letting the injury bother him much; he'd been in much worse shape before, so there was really no need to complain. Still, it was best to get farm injuries checked out before they got any worse, or else he might be out of commission for apple bucking again.
Chewing lightly on a piece of straw hanging from his lips, the muscular pony trotted slowly, thoughtfully up to the front desk. He hadn't really made an appointment yet, seeing as he'd just had the accident. Hopefully they'd be able to squeeze him in soon, though. Big Mac waited patiently at the desk for a doctor, or a nurse, or someone to show up so he could explain his situation. He didn't really speak up, being a pony of few words, instead chewing idly on his straw a bit more as he shifted his weight between his three safely usable hooves.
