closed

[langsyne]

Characters: Scott & Clara
Date: idk, after this thread
Location: Clara's place! Then the hospital!
Situation: Someone got hurt in the bottle. 8|
Warnings/Rating: iiiidk yet. Will update as needed.

It doesn't take him too long to read Clara's place - capable as Scott is of dilly-dallying on any given day, trips to the hospital (and especially mostly unexplained trips to the hospital) rank high on his list of Shit to Get Done Quick, especially when said trips involve people he likes very much. Three sharp raps are delivered to her door when he arrives, and he's concerned enough that he can't quite keep still, weight shifting from one side to the other as he waits.

Comments

[langsyne]

She doesn't fight back at his suggestion, a minor victory he holds on tight to as he worms his way into her suite without so much as a "can I come in?". (Given her current condition though, he figures it's probably alright.)

He talks as he moves, one hand gesturing towards the couch while the other reaches out for the console he's quickly approaching. For an old man, he sure can still make good speed sometimes.

"Then you sit down and don't move and I'll call Bianca and get you all fixed up."

[parallels]

"Yes sir."

Clara replies and sits down on the couch. She does her best not to move because Scott would lecture about it and even the idea of moving hurts. But on the bright side, she avoided a trip to the hospital. So that's definitely a plus. Idly, she glances at an old cup of tea left on the side table, moves to put it in the sink, and then decides to just leave it.

Her tired brown eyes watch him work on the console.

[langsyne]

The call to Bianca takes all of three minutes; soon enough he's turning back from Clara's console, some of the lines previously on his face clearing over Bianca's agreement to come over.

"She'll be over as soon as she can, thank god." There's no mistaking the relief in his voice. "In the meantime we should get you comfortable. You need anything? Ice, painkillers, a pile of books? I'd say alcohol too but then I'd probably get yelled at."

[parallels]

"No yelling here. I'll be fine while we wait."

She sighs softly and slumps against the couch. Her head is pounding from the blow and her arm aches and it seems like it shoots through her entire body. But she's glad Scott is here. It takes some of the anxiety out of her and she indicates that he should sit next to her on the couch.

"Though if I need stitches I might need a bucket." It's a joke, Scott, come on laugh.

[langsyne]

No laughter, sorry, but he does manage half a smile as he makes his way back to the couch and takes a seat next to her. Normally he'd plop down with a sprawl, but he's wary of jiggling the couch and possibly causing her more discomfort so when he sits it's very careful, almost precise.

"We'll be sure to get the prettiest bucket they have. Pink, flowers, maybe with some sparkly ribbons tied around it."

Okay, maybe he can appreciate it a little.

[parallels]

She scoots a little closer to him, keen on having some company. Her shoulder rests against his arm as she keeps her injured one cradled against her chest.

"That would just make me feel terrible about being sick into it."