capeandcowllogs | A Night in West Egg

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A Night in West Egg

WHO: EVERYBODY OF ALL AGES
WHERE: The Xavier Institute
WHEN: The night of June 16th, all night!
WARNINGS: Who can really tell anymore? Probable language. Possible violence. Copious dancing.
SUMMARY: PROM PROM PROM PROM PROM PROM PROM
FORMAT: OPEN

The guests into an auditorium transformed. Through the magic of papier mache, the room has been decked out like a speakeasy, the refreshments laid out on a very makeshift bar that will not stock alcohol as long as they can prevent it. The whole room is cast with a cool blue light, and a jazz band's been hired to take the stage for an hour before leaving the rest of the evening to the DJ.

It was time to get this party started.

quick-links!
DANCE FLOOR
REFRESHMENTS
SIDELINES
OUTSIDE

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Different Dave. Long story.

[One he doesn't sound keen on retelling, especially to a guy who claims any kind of authority. But at least he knew who this guy was now.]

Pretty sure the one you know can't do the bird thing.

...Ah. Alternate universes can always be a bother. But coexistent counterparts are much easier to deal with when neither one is evil.

You aren't evil, right?

[Hank's was, it's awful and he doesn't recommended it. But knowing this is a different Dave is perhaps only more embarrassing. Maybe he'd caught him fighting, but the response feels somewhat more awkward now that he knows he's dealing with a (mostly) complete stranger.]

You'll forgive the confusion, I hope. This isn't quite the time for proper introductions, but I'm Dr. McCoy. The doctorate does include medical expertise, which is the important thing at the moment.

Striders are all inheritly evil, dude. We got our own theme music and everything.

[He shrugs and coughs, wiping a bit of blood on the back of his hand.]

No big. Still Dave. Just not the one you know.

[The note on the doctorate makes his brow furrow a bit.]

So no bribes to get you to let this one go, huh?

Edited 2012-06-26 04:30 (UTC)

And let you bleed to death on the way home? Somehow I just can't see myself allowing that!

[He shrugs with his free hand and gives Dave his most exaggerated frown.] Total mystery, I know, but something about it just feels wrong.

[Dave actually pauses for a moment to catch his breath, nearly collapsing in the process. Ok, maybe he underestimated how bad this wound was. After all, he had been pretty close to death as it was before he got to the City, and now Vriska made it worse while it had just begin the healing process.

At least his broken wing hadn't been further aggravated, but then again, the hole through his stomach was probably cause for more immediate concern.

Fuck, she got him good.]

[Hank winces with worry at that. It already looked bad, so to find it was that much worse is a bit of a shock! Bleeding to death on his way home would be one thing, but on the way to the nurse's station?

He could get there much faster on his own pace. Letting Dave float on his own was only slowing them down.]

I think it might be better if we forego your pride at this point. Speed is of the essence, and I don't want that wound further aggravated!

[He takes one moment to check to make sure nobody's watching (nice try Hank, but not quite), not that it matters because Dave is about out of energy. Thankfully, he dodged the spiked punch, but it also meant that he didn't have any fluids in him. But since nobody is watching...]

Yeah, ok, you win big guy.

[He'd be quickest on all fours, but there's really no chance of that in this situation. Taking Dave in his arms delicately, he still has a lot more freedom to move, leap, and run.]

You made it out of the auditorium, you've got that much going for you, at least.

[It takes maybe a minute to cross the halls to the nurse's station, which, because this is the X-Men we're talking about, is honestly about as equipped as a mini-hospital.

Hank sets Dave down on a bed and peels away the bandages carefully. ...He might need the trauma equipment.]

[Probably. Dave doesn't put up any sort of fight at this point. He actually, admittedly, feels pretty terrible. Once he's rested on the table, his tail goes pretty limp.

Sure enough, the wound is horrendously deep and bleeding fresh blood -- it was obvious that the wound went completely through his body at some point, though the small amount of time it bad been allowed to heal had mostly sealed that major gap. Like the rest of the blood covering him and the bandage, it shines a disturbing golden hue.

Usually, this would be the part where Dave cracks some wise comment about the worth of his body, but considering that he's all but fighting just to stay conscious, that little comment is going to remain unsaid.]

[Hank's a little too busy irrigating and sterilizing and repairing the stitches to offer up any lines of his own. It's all about a half hour's worth of work, and once he's done, Dave's wound is newly dressed and he's hooked up to an IV.

There was enough blood that he had samples collected, but he hadn't had time to turn up any answers from it yet. That was his main concern, now that the bleeding had stopped.]

I'm sure this isn't the way you expected your night to go, but I'll need to keep you overnight. You've lost a lot of blood, and until I'm confident that I can get it replaced, I'll have some tests to run.

It'll be best if you're kept under our care until then. You had a pretty close call, there.

[Its obvious Dave is not at all happy with that news, judging by the way he frowns even with those sunglasses of his. He's too dizzy to argue and one night of recovery wouldn't kill him, he supposes. He did his job, the rest was up to John.

He reaches up to press a hand to his head, ignoring the slight pinch of the IV needle when he moves. Laying on his wings kind of sucks, but he doesn't have the energy to banish his sprite form.

But he hasn't made a wise-crack in a half hour, so he's forcing one now.]

No this is basically exactly what I pictured. Minus the big furry guy, but pretty much the same thing.

Edited 2012-06-26 17:33 (UTC)

Yes, well, that just goes with the territory.

[He snaps off and disposes of his gloves, then washes his hands before pulling up a stool next to Dave's bed.]

Now that we have that taken care of, would you mind explaining what happened?

What if I said I did mind?

[Dave makes a point not to look at Hank when he speaks.]

Spiderbitch didn't do it, if that's what you mean.

Edited 2012-06-27 19:30 (UTC)

Now, that isn't any of my business. If you're not inclined to share, there's little justification for me to pry.

[He thumbs toward the wall, vaguely in the direction of the auditorium.]

The altercation that brought us here, what happened with her...that's a different story altogether.

She was asking for it. That's pretty much all there is to tell.

I should dare think you could manage a little more than that. Why don't you start by telling me how?

Nah, I think I'm good.

[Authority? Gratefulness? What's that?]

[He lowers his glasses and gives Dave a rather serious look.]

With it happening on our grounds? I'm afraid I'll have to insist.

Or what?

[Its not a challenge -- he really doesn't seem to care about consequences.]

Well, I shouldn't think the police need be involved.

[He doesn't have a lot of ground to stand on beyond a moral one, but that's not a threat he really wants to make good on. Even making it leaves him a little uneasy.]

[Dave narrows his eyes this time, though its not visible beyond the scrunching of a few facial muscles.]

You're kidding me.

[Its a gross between "is that supposed to scare me" and "you're joking right you have to be joking".]

We just had a fight break out at a high school prom in front of dozens of witnesses that left one party bleeding out on the floor. You don't think they'd be interested?

[Though, when he puts it like that, it might be hard to keep them from being interested, especially if someone else already called it in. He already had a chat with the paramedics that came after John called an ambulance, and convinced them that due to the patient's unique physiology, this would be the best place for him at the moment.

Hell, the hospitals couldn't handle a boy who's also a bird, and they'd probably call him in on a consultation anyway, if not Andromeda Tonks from the clinic, or, heaven forbid, Dr. Zoidberg.]

That is, of course, unless you'd prefer I did call them. You were the one bleeding out on the floor, after all.

But know that they won't ask nearly as nicely as I am.

Not sure I'd call this asking.

[Still, one guy is better than an entire police force.]

Disagreement. She provoked me, I socked her in the face, she opened an old cut for my trouble. Pretty simple stuff.

It's a delicate situation, you'll pardon me if I'm mildly aggressive about this.

[He rubs his temple with one finger.] That is was sparked by a disagreement is a fairly simple extrapolation. Maybe you could help me understand what that disagreement was about?

Personal business, broski.

[...nope, looks like he's not budging, even with the police threat.]

Which means it ain't nobody's business but mine.

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stupid enter button

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