Open Infirmary Thread

[Spike hates this part. Being too weak to do anything just sucks. Right now he's leaning upright against some pillows in his bed and playing a game on his warden item. This is where having a handheld gaming device as an item comes in handy.]

[Elphaba came up beside the bed, watching Spike analytically.] So. I suppose that explains your mood.

[He pauses his game and puts it down, then gives her a smile.]

The death thing? No. But the being mind-controlled might have had an effect. Always makes me cranky, people messing with my brain.

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[Unaware that Spike was even in the infirmary, Andrew had come here to see that Buffy was okay. So one could imagine that seeing Spike here sort of threw him for a loop.

Andrew frowns a little and approaches the vampire's bed slowly.] ...Spike? What are you doing here?

[Spike glances up at him and raises an eyebrow. Andrew hadn't heard? ...well, he's not that surprised he wasn't in the big battle.]

Buffy staked me.

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Omega was hard at work, despite starting to feel tired. The encounter with Harkness didn't help, though that was matter of his nature more than the man himself. He wasn't feeling terribly talkative, but he was doing the job diligently.

Buffy wandered into the infirmary, looking dazed and almost childlike, clutching her injured arm. Gunshots hurt. She paused and hesitated, seeing Spike sitting in a bed on the far side of the room. Wondering if the green girl she'd killed had been brought in yet, Buffy had trouble letting her eyes scan the room. So she just sort of stood there. Looking, but not really looking, trying to find a familiar not-recently-killed-by-her face.

Buffy? [Omega had gone over to her as soon as he saw her. He took a quick visual inspection and noted that she appeared to be in shock.] Let me take a look at that arm, hmm?

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Spike glanced up as soon as she came in, frowning at the injuries. He still wanted to talk to Buffy, but he didn't call her over or anything. He'd rather she got patched up first.

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After Buffy's post, Andrew hurried to the infirmary, assuming/hoping that that's where she would go. He was there mainly to check on her, but also to see if anyone else he knew had ended up injured.

Having never been in the infirmary before, Andrew took a second to take it in, also to scan the room for someone of the petite and blond Slayer type. It took him a second, but he finally noticed her. Maybe it was all the woundage that made her hard to find, but considering her track record, it really shouldn't have made a difference.

Andrew half-ran to her, thinking it probably poor-taste to be too excited in a hospital-like setting. "Buffy! Are you okay?" He realizes the stupidity in that and quickly adds, "I mean... are you... gonna be okay?"

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Braxiatel wanted to be in and out of the infirmary; he'd have let the injuries take care of themselves if there hadn't also been a broken nose into the mix. He continued to wish Rhade had stabbed him or something equally less inconvenient. Brax absolutely loathed trying to talk through nose injuries.

He walked over to his keeper, having changed clothes so that it appeared on first glance that the injured nose was the only thing wrong with him. "I hope that our sufficiently advanced technology is sufficiently advanced to magically fix this in a day."

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[Time Lords heal quickly, but he has a concussion that should be checked out, plus a shoulder scorched by lightning and whatever Arthas had done to his blood made his internal temperature regulation a little erratic. And although Narvin is sure that Doctor Jones is a perfectly competent physician, he'd rather have a Gallifreyan work on him, thank you very much.]

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[As soon as Martha had been fixed, she headed into the infirmary. She looked a bit like hell, but she'd turned into the spare scrubs that she'd kept in the office and was now moving through the beds easily and methodically. Every so often, there'd be a little sound as she closed her eyes, and her lips would move. Whether she was admitting it or not, Martha was no where near as fine as she'd wanted to be. The words that she was mumbling were the bones of the hand that she'd been spending the last four days trying to remember. ]

Toshiko was still feeling disoriented and a little dazed after the nanomites had self-destructed; the sense of having been not-quite-in-control was dizzying, and she had taken the time to read over the previous journal entries with fresh eyes. She had been under the influence for - two weeks? Longer?

(She would never admit there had been a comfort in the compulsion, a sense of satisfaction when she had done something right, when she had obeyed Rex's orders. She supposed it was a shade of what the Borg Queen's victims had been through.)

She hadn't been hurt. Her memories of being - neutralised - were fuzzy but whoever it had been, they hadn't injured her. It was exclusively for the staff and not for the healthcare that she went to the Infirmary; she saw Martha in one of those helpless moments, lips moving in near-silent recital (of what, she couldn't tell, but she could offer a good guess) and her heart dropped to her stomach.

Tosh wasn't even going to try and wrap actual words around this. On a pause between beds she walked over to Martha, put one hand on her shoulder and then - unprecedentedly - pulled her into a hug.

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[Concerned, Omega headed towards Martha.] Martha. [He waited until she looked at him.] You shouldn't be here. You should rest.

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[Cissie had been doing as much as she could to help, knowing that Martha and Sveta were in Zero and hating it. As soon as she spotted Martha back in the infirmary, she frowned a little, but was too busy to immediately intercept her. She kept an eye on her as she worked and was glad to see that, outwardly, she seemed mostly okay. She knew she couldn't be though, and those moments of closing her eyes and muttering to herself only proved it, so when they had a lull, Cissie went over to her. Maybe she could get the doctor to sit down, just for a minute or two. She put a hand on Martha's shoulder and gave her a gentle smile.] Hi Martha.

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Done getting repaired by his warden, Braxiatel headed over Martha. He knew she wouldn't be well. He also knew he was a poor hand at emotional or moral support. "Martha, I'm glad to catch you. I know you're occupied presently, but might I have a moment of your time?"

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Ow. Ow.

It was depressing that Shego had learnt that 'life-threatening situation and then sudden blackout' inevitably meant that she'd died. Was this the third - no, the Barge engine melted her to death, Sylar before that, then the Joker. Fourth time. Outstanding. Who had the Barge record? It had to be Prefect. She'd ask later.

Her neck was killing her. She reached up gingerly - everything from the shoulders down felt kind of numb and unresponsive - and touched the skin around her throat, knowing logically there wouldn't be any open wounds there but still feeling relieved when there wasn't. Had Buffy slit her throat? But that wouldn't explain the feeling of disconnectedness between her head and -

Oh.

Well, damn.

Had she grown a new head? She'd have to do her eyebrows again. What happened to the old one?

She made an unhappy noise and pulled the sheets over her head with great effort.

"Good morning, Sister." Prefect said politely, as he hovered at the side of Shego's bed, like a particularly needy orderly, "How are you feeling?"

How long he'd been lurking there, staring at her, waiting for some sign of life to reveal itself, was fortunately unclear. Now that she was awake though, Prefect saw fit to lower himself into the seat at her bedside, and hoist the offering that he had brought to wish her well.

"Here, I got you this."

It was a catering sized carton of fresh orange juice. Where did you get this, Prefect?

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[ Stephanie was done with this. The pain of the electric shock had faded, her shoulder relocated, her wrist done up in a cast and everything. She even kept the ice pressed to her aching jaw, not that it would do much good this long after the fact.

But the rest of her, legs especially, were fine. And she was glad that Dick had taken care of the costume-through-her-burned-clothes problem. All she wants to do is go back to her room. Her head's alright now! She can talk without slurring, and nothing's fuzzy. Just painful as all get out.

She waits until Martha has passed her bed and is at least a couple of beds down before sneaking past. ]

[Dick had had a busy couple hours. It was almost like being back home, and while that was all well and good, he certainly wouldn't complain about catching a couple hours of sleep or something.

Still, there was work to be done, and he was more than happy to help out where he could, so he'd headed back up to the infirmary after grabbing some food to see what he can do.

Which means he catches Steph before she gets too far.]

Where do you think you're going?

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[Once he's in there and getting repaired, Kay settles down nicely from his paranoid fit. Narvin's no longer chasing him, the issue has finally been resolved, and he's already turning his interests to larger things because... he needs to, right now. It keeps him from going downstairs and murdering Rex permanently. Or at the very least being uselessly angry.

But as one hand is being mended, he only has the other to do anything with, so he's staring at the ceiling. Being high on painkillers is a plus, too.]

[Chang couldn't see. Everything was a big blur to him right now and his eye ached and his head spun. This death he was glad to recover from. This death shouldn't have been his last. Or maybe it should have been. He should have been stronger.

The infirmary was busy. His sense of hearing and smell told him that much. Then he smell something familiar. His own blood. He wasn't bleeding, so K.

It was a phenomenally bad idea to get up, he knew that. He just didn't care. He pushed himself off the bed and started to make his way across to him, using his other sense to get him across. He managed to avoid the people (or they him), only hitting a few corners of beds, before he realised he was within hearing distance.] Kay.

[His knees buckled and he ended up kneeling on one leg, holding onto the bed.]

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[He doesn't stick around the infirmary at first; he looked like shit after the fight in the engine room so after bringing Shego up, he went back to his room, cleaned up, and crashed for a number of hours after Rex made his "announcement".

He comes back later to see if Shego's awake when someone else catches his eye. He debates a moment before walking over, pulling up a nearby chair as he does so.]

Kay.

["You look like shit."]

Edited 2011-03-21 14:27 (UTC)

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[Narvin decides that if he's going to stay in the infirmary until Kay is ready to be released, he might as well do some good. He has enough basic medical training to help triage and enough experience with various sorts of advanced technology to learn how to use the medical equipment quickly. He may not be performing surgery any time soon, but he can help manage the minor
injuries.

He glances at Kay frequently while he goes about his duties, and when he has a spare moment he comes to sit by him and places his hand on the bed so his fingers just barely brush Kay's good hand.]

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Open, tag Buffy

Open

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[After Arthas and Zero, before panicky Kay-search post]

Open

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open/multithreads/ALL THAT GOOD STUFF

Re: open/multithreads/ALL THAT GOOD STUFF

OPEN to everyone, multiple threads encouraged because I am booooored

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