Appointments Post

[fuckthemission]

 A catch-all post made for threads that don't fit into any particular entry; if you use this, please put the date and the means of communicating in the subject line! I.E., 'August 1st [Written]'.

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March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

[OOC: Continued from here.]

[Late evening before she returns home to find an unfortunate message scrawled outside her house, Adele's in the clinic. It seems like a regular enough of an evening; at least until she walks out and sees Sergeant Doyle. Cradling a bloody arm.]

...What happened?

[Puzzled as she is she's still walking over to kneel and take a better look at his wounded arm.]

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

[There we go—he'd been waiting for you, madam doctor. Or at least, waiting for a doctor in general; it didn't take long at all for someone to notice him, so at least he was content with not having to budge an inch. After all, he was already far into the stages of light-headedness. Wiping his sweaty blood-dotted cheek he offers a nod of welcome. Totally casual, even if he was riding a few mean waves of pain up that arm.

Funny way of meeting someone again, right? Last time he'd seen Adele it'd been at the battle dome, helping her wander its fucked-up halls.]

Evening, doctor. You any good at treating vampire attacks?

[He'll grimace and peel back the jacket to give her a clear picture, which in hindsight sucks because it's all still bleeding and the clinging material isn't helping much. They look a lot like little knife-flecks; inhuman claws. Hard to really imagine it's not from a sharp-clawed animal, ain't it?

He breathes in sharp, hanging his head and grumbling a few curse words befitting of a sea dog.]

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

I am afraid that you will be my first. Don't worry, I shall be gentle.

[It was easier to snark at Doyle while she helps him peel back the sleeve of his jacket, examining the cuts with a critical eye. Her expression smooths out as her mind starts to work, and she does her best to help him stand so she could get him to a room with actual tools. Sutures. Morphine. Epinephrine. Needles and surgical tubing for the closest thing to a blood transfusion she could offer. All of this runs through her head as she elevates the wounded arm and loops her other arm under his shoulders.]

Stand with me. The sooner you are in an examination room, the sooner I might treat you.

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

[He hisses between his closed teeth, but manages to stagger up and walk with her; it's not that bad, he thinks. It's manageable. He's been shot before, broken things, the usual—this? Not so bad.

But it still fuckin' hurt.]

Alright. [breathes] I'm not sure if this place'll be getting anymore vampire maulings, so just keep an eye out. Buffy's gone off to deal with the problem, s'far as I know.

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

[It's not that far to the nearest available exam room. She helps him just down the hall, the first door to the left, and turns the knob with her free hand before shouldering the door open. Three feet and she sets him down on the cot, leaving him to gather what she'll need. Sutures, latex gloves, the laceration holy trinity of saline, morphine, and epinephrine. Cleanse, numb, constrict.]

Should I ask who, or when? Or how long it is that you have been bleeding in the waiting room?

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

Vampire's name is Drusilla, crazy as hell. And the attack was about a half hour ago—been bleeding for about a few minutes out there. [He huffed, leaning like the Tower of Pisa because he was damn tired.] It was a good break from all the running.

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

...

[That's just fantastic. Adele shakes her head and carries the tools she needs over to the exam table, motioning for Doyle to lift his arm. First and foremost she gives him a small injection of morphine just around the cuts so that cleaning them out isn't quite so painful.]

You have lost plenty of blood, then. [More than he would without the accelerated heart rate. Wonderful. Just. Wonderful.]

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

Oh, tons of it.

[He lifts his arm up to the table shakily, looking at it and apparently paling even more. Ugh, blood. Gross, meaty blood. He wants to just pass out at that shit. PUT ME BACK OUTSIDE WHERE IT WAS TOO DARK TO SEE IT.

He swallows dryly.]

'Least she didn't nick anything major.

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

Eyes on me, Sergeant.

[Sickness at the sight of blood? She knows the symptoms well enough. If he's looking at her, he's not watching her work. Less likely that he'd faint while she was in the middle of stitching him up.]

Deep, even breaths. Is this the only major injury you've endured tonight?

[Don't throw up on her, please. It'd just be the perfect end to tonight.

Gloved fingers dab at the edges of the cuts as Adele pours a small measure of saline into the deepest of them, flushing out the blood and whatever detritus might remain.]

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

Other than my pride getting injured, maybe.

[His gaze flicks from the injuries to her, mouth set in a neutral line as he watched the focus glide across her features. He's dealt with his own breathing exercises a few times in the line of duty, especially when he's ran into a grim sight. After a beat—]

I won't go passing out on you at the sight of it, doc, don't worry. [wince. the morphine needs to kick in faster] It would have been a tragedy if I didn't at least get used to this kind of thing in a decade and a half, right?

[His arm turns faintly in her grip she as moves it where moving is due; there are pronounced veins on the top that fit to his muscle, and now that they're nearly cleaned free of blood he wonders how bad scarring might be for these. Not that he's new to scarring. Broken collarbone from years back gave him little puckers of flesh across his collarbone from the surgery, and he's got plenty of faint marks here and there.

But this is a pretty weird one. Scars post-mortem. Huh.

Surreal shit.

Actually, speaking of collarbones and bodies and stuff-]

Can I get this shirt off before you go mad scientist on my arm? This sleeve is killin' me.

[and the whole thing's sort of... covered in blood... :|a]

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

I have known men that get injured thusly on a regular bases and still faint at the sight of a nosebleed. While it is tragic, it also has saved me the cost of anesthesia on a few occasions.

[As fat as Adele was concerned, the sleeve was enough out of the way for her to work; the wounded skin was clear of any stray threads that she could see and there was space enough for her to work. But. If he was uncomfortable? She steps back and plucks up a fresh scalpel.]

How attached are you to this shirt? It would be quickest to cut it off.

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

Considering I didn't have to pay for it? Not attached at all.

[He doesn't mind it, as long as she's not planning on shoving that scalpel up his nose.]

Liked the jacket a helluva' lot more.

[And now look at it, shredded in a sad bloody heap nearby. The tragedy of it all.]

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

Soak it in cold water; take it to the seamstress after you wash the blood from it.

[She's careful to pull the fabric well away from Doyle's skin as she starts to cut the bloody shirt from his arm. She follows the seams to keep it simple, tearing through it in a handful of quick, efficient strokes. Once it's all cut she peels it away, sets it aside, and resumes cleaning out the deeper lacerations on Doyle's arm.]

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

Seamstress? We have one of those?

[He works a shoulder around when the shirt's gone, and the cool air is doing wonders for him now that he feels unconstrained. But then she's back to work and he's still like a good patient should be.

Only, he's getting more and more tired as time passes, and he thinks this is probably from the bloodloss. So he tries to focus on rambling.]

Soaking it in cold water'll do the trick, though?

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

It is listed on the map, if memory serves.

[A few small threads, a bit of dirt, Adele uses great care in removing them from Doyle's deepest laceration. She flushes them with saline once more, looks over the torn muscle with a critical eye, then daubs the area around the slashed skin with iodine.]

Cold water and baking soda. Soak it overnight, and then wash it.

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

[He nods, blinking tiredly; once he realizes it, he speaks up, leaning heavy on his elbow.] I'm getting pretty light-headed. You think we could jump into the next step a little soon and get some fluids going?

[He knows that's not exactly the first step to do if someone's got open wounds, but... damn man. He really needs something.]

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

[Adele considers it a moment before nodding, folding over a square of sterile gauze and pressing it on top of the deeper lacerations. She nods for him to hold it there while she fetches an IV stand.]

Keep the pressure on, and your arm elevated as best you are able.

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

[He nods, pressing to keep it from bleeding anymore than it has, arm elevated just so. He's gotten used to stopping wounds from bleeding out, at least.]

Thanks.

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

[One last look at the gauze before she's pulling out a stand, a bag of saline, and flipping through the small tray of pharmaceuticals she'd stocked in each examination room before Rick arrived. After a moment she finds what she's looking for. Neupogen. She returns with the stand, a bag of saline, medical tape, a peripheral IV line, an 18 gauge peripheral cannula, and a syringe for administering the Neuprogen.

She returns to his side, hanging the bag on the stand and connecting the tubing to the dock, letting it sit for a moment. A dab of iodine is smeared on the back of Doyle's good hand, and she prepares the site of the catheter.]

I trust you have no issues with needles?

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

[He just smiles at that.]

26 years ago, probably. Stick me, doc.

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

...It must be something to do with the translation. That always sounds slightly provocative to me.

[A soft huff of laughter and she slides the catheter in place, offering Doyle a lifeline of saline and Neuprogen. Fluid to make up for lost volume, medication to make up for the lost red blood cells.]

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

[He laughs.]

I'd agree with that, but I'm not exactly looking provocative with my, uh, IV drip and fucked-up arm. [He jiggles his arm around, the IV line wiggling a bit.] Nothin' sexier than a half-mauled limb, right?

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

You have no idea. You are so hot I am beginning to perspire due to your proximity.

[She rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to the lacerations.]

Were it not for the potential malpractice suit and terribly unprofessional implications, I would, as my sister puts it, mount you like a Harley and ride you like a stallion. [Compete and utter deadpan.]

March 27th [Action]

[fuckthemission]

[man-pout in progress_]

I can't tell if that wounds me, or if it's just my arm hurting.

...

...

Are you always on top in your hypotheticals?

March 27th [Action]

[fleurdesel]

[If she could see it, she might find it hilarious. As it is her eyes are on her work, the slow, steady series of injections around the deepest cut to constrict the blood vessels and prevent further bleeding.]

With as much morphine as I have given you, Sergeant, I'm certain I have wounded your masculine pride.

[Injections finished, she threads a needle and begins the first set of sutures.]

That depends on a great many variables.