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Coincidence put Zeke on duty at the same time Chance found himself admitted. It would take a while after his last tweet for the Mist to actually make it to the other man's room--other patients to see to, tasks to preform--but eventually he did find his way there.

"So what did it?" He'd say as he walked in and headed straight for the end of the bed to pluck up the clipboard hanging off the edge. "Horsemen?"

That was where Zeke's mind went when he thought of injured hunters returning from the haunted house(or the desert). Thus far it had been horsemen that had caused all the major injuries Zeke had personally had to deal with, and his single encounter with one of the Halloween creatures had been rather disappointing.

There was a rustle of pages as he looked through the notes on hand, then the board was lowered so hazel eyes could focus on the man himself and not just his information.

That caught his attention. Brows lifted as Chance described the creature he'd faced off against, and there was a slight c**k of his head, thoughtful, as he thought back to the books on Halloween races he'd read when he'd first stepped out of the pod. "Reaper maybe?" They were known to have weapons. What kind would be harder to figure out without more details.

The trainee in the bed attempted to move, hissing out a wince, and Zeke pressed the tips of his fingers into his shoulder to encourage him to stay still least he manage to ******** up his ribs even more. "Do try not to move much." Sad, maybe, that it had less to do with concern for Chance, and more out of selfish desire to not have to deal with any emergencies for the rest of his shift.

Granted, if he had to pick a patient to deal with, Chance wasn't a bad choice. Mild and polite, he set the standard high.

"I suppose that can be arranged. You have a preference for flavor?" He withdrew his hand and headed towards the door, though paused before leaning out into the hall until Chance answered one way or another.

A passing trainee in scrubs was set on the task of retrieving the jello.

Order for jello delivered, Zeke eased back into the room and went for the wheeled stool that sat near the wall beside the mobile work station. A nudge with the toe of his boot sent it rolling towards the edge of the bed, and he'd follow, pulling the cart(like a glorified, sterile tackle box on wheels) with him. "Yes, reapers are the human looking creatures wielding weapons. They also, on occasion, have something called a familiar with them. An animal of sorts, usually." Zeke had not only done his research, he'd done his own cataloging of said research for better personal use later. It was an on going project.

"Did listening to Jack include staying out of the haunted house? Because maybe," he mused, lips tugging into a lazy little smile as pale eyes jumped from a drawer in the work station and onto the man on the bed.

He kept digging until he found what he was looking for; a small stack of gauze pads, a bottle of peroxide, and he folded out a small flat surface from the side of the cart. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he opened one of the pads and soaked a part of it in the peroxide, then swiveled around and wheeled up near Chance's shoulder.

A startled bark of laugh interrupted his attempt at wiping away whatever the tacky, drying substance made up the (random) smiley on the Sun's face. "Nice?" That was kind of hilarious. "No one ever calls me nice. a*****e, p***k, douche bag, but never nice." He was chuckling as he finally reached up and started to work at the smudge. It looked like blood, but darker. "And I'm here all the time, pretty much live here." His tone was mild, despite what came next. 'It's awful."

He wasn't intentionally trying to cause Chance pain, but he neither was he trying terribly hard not to. Zeke was, in nearly all things, utterly efficient. It meant he had fairly terrible bedside manner, but had become proficient with the infirmary duties assigned to him with surprising speed and ease. Much to his chagrin upon realizing excelling meant staying there, forever.

"Interesting I'll give you," he agreed, smile growing into an all out smirk as he worked. The smudge was stubborn, and there was a wealth of bruises beneath it. The flinch and the apology were answered with a noncommittal sort of noise, gaze intent on Chance's forehead and his own hand. After a moment the other came up, fingertips at the back of his head in a light, steadying touch.

At the question he'd pause long enough to actually meat the other man's gaze, but it was a fleeting glance, there and gone with only the smallest stop. The eyes were gone, now he just needed to remove the mouth. "It looks like your reaper friend left you a present in the form of a smiley face." He sounded thoughtful, head tilting subtly to one side. "I can't be certain, given the color, but it might be blood. Similar consistency."

Lips pursing, he let out a quick huff of a breath. "Do steer clear. You wouldn't believe how many whiny pains in the a** they've got living here." Zeke knew. Zeke got to stitch them up, and give them x-rays, and set their broken bones.

"Is that so?" Zeke chuckled, pausing briefly in his scrubbing. "I guess we'll get along just fine then." He flashed Chance a grin, teeth flashing, before that look of concentration returned and he went right back to work.

Until his patient jerked, skin going noticeably pale. It wasn't a large reaction, but it was enough for someone that made it a habit of notice things to catch fairly easily. The rubbing slowed, gaze focusing more on the other man's eyes than the side of his face as brows arched in question. "You alright?" Somehow he doubted it had to do with the scrubbing itself, he'd been fine up to that point.

Luckily there hadn't been much left, and he managed to get it off pretty quickly. Soiled gauze was dropped onto the tray on the cart with his stripped off gloves.

He was watching Chance a little more closely now, despite the impressive attempt to pull off normalcy. If Zeke had n't been more attentive it might have slipped right on past him, but he was, and now he was very curious.

Hazel eyes turned from Chance to the gauze and then back again, a thoughtful look on his face before he got to his feet. A new gauze pad was rummaged from the little cart, but he'd head over to the little sink set against one wall and run a little cold water over it before returning it and offering it to Chance.

The blood was gone, it was a useless gesture, but he did it anyways. A moment of kindness in an otherwise brisk, seemingly indifferent approach to the Sun's care.

There wasn't anything, that he could think of, at least, that could illicit that sort of a trigger response from Ezekiel. He didn't have any known phobias, and though there were plenty of things that were disgusting, there was nothing that actually made his skin crawl on contact or mention. He honestly didn't know how Chance was feeling, but he thought perhaps the chance to 'clean' his own cheek might give the other man a measure of reassurance though the illusion of regaining control.

Or something to that effect. At the very least, it couldn't hurt.

He'd regain his seat, pulling open a drawer in his cart to hunt down a bottle of pills. "You'll be fine," he offered as he spilled a pair of pills into his palm and tossed the bottle away. "Bump on the head, bruised and busted ribs, they hurt like hell, but they should heal without complication." He offered the pills out, pouring a little cup of water from the pitcher on the bedside table.

There was a small knock, and the girl he'd sent off on the hunt for jello peeked her head around the corner and narrowed her eyes at Zeke as he wiggled a little container of jiggly red stuff at him before tossing it at him. "Not you're go-fer. Get it yourself next time." Zeke called back a thank you as she disappeared again.

"I would agree to that." Zeke smiled, offering over the little jello cup. There wasn't a spoon, but he could grab one from the break room if Chance needed one. "Being idle for too long is not idle." It was an understatement, to be sure. Without something, someone or some project, to keep the Mist occupied he got bored really fast. Being stuck in the infirmary, or the patient end of things, seemed like torture to him.

He took the gauze pad now that the Sun was done with it, dropping it with the others before taking the entire tray over to the trash bin to dump it. "Pills should kick in quick, especially since you're eating." Not much, but enough. "Do you need a spoon?" He had returned to the cart, closing drawers and tucking things away neatly again for the next hunter.

"Or anything else," he added after a beat. It was more than he usually offered to anyone he was he treated, but Chance had caught his interest enough to warrant slightly better care than most.

Chance didn't want a spoon, so he rolled his shoulders in a shrug as he pushed the cart out of the way and reclaimed his stool near the side of the other man's bed. If he wanted to suck his jello out of the cup, who was Zeke to stop him? Too each their own.

A slow, distinctly devious smile took over the Mist's lips as Chance spoke. There was just so much ammunition being provided in this moment, he simply couldn't help himself. "Or maybe something to take your mind off being stuck in an uncomfortable bed with busted ribs." It was an innocuous enough offer on it's own, but paired with the awful light in his eyes, the wide spread of of his grin, it was more.

It was also sincere. Granted, the location wasn't exactly ideal unless you had a bit of an exhibitionist streak in you, but...nothing ventured, nothing gained. It would help alleviate the poor Sun's boredom, and his own, but it wasn't a shot to his pride if the other man wasn't interested. He was hurt, after all,