Elle "hates thestrals" Abercrombie (abandonedheart) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-06-08 18:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-06] june, elle abercrombie, rufus scrimgeour |
RP Log - Elle Abercrombie & Rufus Scrimgeour
Who: Elle Abercrombie and Rufus Scrimgeour.
Where: St. Mungo's hospital.
When: Sunday 08 June, 1979; mid-afternoon.
What: Rufus comes to visit Elle at St. Mungo's after the attack on the Bones'. He makes her laugh and they go on an adventure.
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of blood & death.
Status: Done!
Elle painfully rolled onto her right side as another Healer (one she had yet to see before) took a look at the gash that ran from the middle of her sternum across her left side. The gash also ran across the inside of her left arm, right through the inside of her elbow. The Healer peeled away the bandages and Elle took a sharp breath. Blood oozed from the wounds - much slower than it had when she sustained them, but it was vexing to the Healers that it was taking them so long to get it to stop completely. "We're doing our best to prevent scarring," the Healer said as she began to redress Elle's wounds, "but we're not sure if we can. You're lucky we were able to repair the damage to your arm. You could have lost use of it." Elle hissed as the bandages were completely removed and new ones were placed on. "I haven't seen you before," she said, "why the we?" "Oh," the Healer looked apologetic, "I was one of the Healers who tended to you when you came in. When we repaired your arm and replenished some of your blood supply." Elle winced as she was rolled back over, "Sorry, I... Thanks." "It's my job. Get some rest." The Healer walked out of the room and she painfully pushed herself to a better position. The pain bloomed across her side, and she wondered if she should have just asked for a pain potion before the Healer had left, "Ah, fuck." "I don't think we know each other well enough for pet names," came a voice in the doorway - against which leaned a very ginger and very tired looking Rufus Scrimgeour. "I had to sweet-talk my way past the head healer, so I hope you appreciate this." But every line had softened, and it was obvious he was joking - which was obviously far easier than allowing himself to feel worried about one of his colleagues. Holding up a bottle of scotch (for Rufus's alcoholic experiences were limited and gift-giving wasn't the best time for exploring new horizons), he navigated the room, dragged over a chair to her bedside, and slumped into it backward, leaning his chin into its wooden spine. "You look like hell," he remarked brightly, setting the bottle atop her bedside stand and transfiguring the "no smoking" and "no alcohol" signs into comfortably sized glasses. "Feeling better?" "If I had a pet name for you, I don't think it would be 'ah, fuck'. I'm much too creative for that," she let a smirk curl onto her lips, though worry settled in her eyes. He looked tired and worn out, but at least he was in one piece. That was a small blessing, and she would take as many of those as she could. She eyed the bottle of scotch gratefully, "My hero. They're rationing pain potions; apparently they don't want me to either get addicted or make an arse out of myself. Amazing." She pushed up again to seat herself to see him (and drink!) more easily, though it wasn't without a wince and a bite to her lower lip, "you should look in the mirror." She reached over and snatched one of the glasses and held it out to him to pour, "I guess you could say I'm feeling better. I'm not losing blood by the pint anymore, so that's a plus, right?" "Oh, I don't know - I've been called worse things," he chuckled in response, pouring each glass full and sliding one over toward the blonde, considering her - even as she considered him right back. Whereas he tended to always look tired and worn to some degree, she wasn't usually lying in a hospital bed, so he decided he was far more justified in his concern - not that it mattered appreciably, but being right was always fun. "Though I wouldn't want to put that creativity to the test, so I'll settle with my hero." Raising his glass with a 'cheers', Rufus knocked back a good mouthful of brown liquid. Ah yes. It was definitely scotch. Good thing he'd checked. Mirror? Good Lord, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen one, unless one counted the mirror in Amelia's bathroom the night before - into which he'd simply frowned and gone on his way. "Merlin, woman, I wouldn't inflict this upon a mirror!" He gestured toward his face and poured another glass. It wouldn't be long before he was getting loudly thrown out, he was sure, so best make the time count. Alcohol was better than pain potions, anyway - and he was sure Elle would agree. "Hopefully they won't be as stingy with the hangover potions." He didn't comment on her blood loss - as if avoiding the subject might make it go away. Rufus was not typically a proponent of denial, but with Edgar's death, he was finding it difficult to cope with even these small realities. He would recover soon, he knew, but recuperation time was costly, and he hadn't much to spare. "When are they letting you out?" She laughed and threw back the biting liquid. It burned down her throat, but it was a good burn, and she licked her lips and held out her glass, "You sure know how to cheer a girl up, Hero." She smirked and let him fill the glasses again. She laughed, heartily, about the mirror comment, and it made her groan. "Maybe you shouldn't be here. You're good for a laugh, but my side doesn't appreciate it." Still, laughter was a rare commodity these days... she would take it whenever she could. "Hopefully. I think you've got some time before they come in and kick you out for this, since the Healer just left, but I'll let you know once I need them. You can tell them that they better not hold out on me because you made a poor decision." She smirked and rest her head back to look at the ceiling. When were they going to let her out? The sooner the better, in her opinion, but there was the whole 'still bleeding a bit' thing and the whole 'almost lost your arm' thing. It was moments like these, when she lay injured, that she realized that she had made the right choice all those years ago to become an Auror. Ichabod was fine, according to Rufus in her journal. He was probably hurting like she was... but he was alive. That made the pain and the bloodloss and the scars all worth it. "I have no idea. Hopefully by tomorrow, but I'm not so sure," she paused for a moment and looked down at her left arm, "at any rate, I don't think I'm going to be on the field for a little while. Not until these bitches of wounds heal completely. Looks like I'm going to act like one of the secretaries and start pushing paperwork for awhile." "None of that nonsense," Rufus said brusquely, tsking at her beneath his breath. "Laughter is bad for you. And we don't believe in things that are bad for you." Clearly. Another couple shots poured and shared, and he was beginning to feel slightly fuzzy around the edges. Luckily, he was flooing back to his place after this and not heading into work immediately (he needed an actual block of sleep right now) - otherwise he wouldn't approve very much of fuzz. Not that he approved of fuzz usually, but... we digress. "I'm sure Gladys will be delighted to order you about a bit. Though stay out of my office. Wouldn't want to injure yourself further." Sadly, this was true - Rufus's office had been somewhat off limits to those of weak constitutions ever since he decided it would serve better as a filing cabinet. He was fairly certain that beneath the mountains of paper lay some poor dead intern, but he didn't feel like investigating. The strange smells were probably a bit of sandwich. Really. Augh. He could feel the sobriety coming up, and in a moment of blind weakness, he shifted uncomfortably, looked Elle straight in the eyes, and said, quite frankly, "you did a very good job out there." Mmm, tipsy. Given the blood loss, the potions, and everything else... alcohol probably wasn't the smartest of choices for the young Auror. However, seeing as she'd had a bad few days... she wasn't going to regret the decision. The burn subsided and she could feel the warmth as it spread through her veins. It was a good feeling - and so much better than pain potions, "I don't think I would want to go in your office, even uninjured. Or in complete body armor. I think I'm more afraid of that place than Azkaban." She smirked and threw back the next drink. Ah, yes. Good. She put it on the table for him to refill (after all, why not?) and shifted a bit. She really, really hated this hospital bed. One would think that hospitals would want their patients to be comfortable, and therefore have comfortable beds. But this was not the case. Obviously. She was a bit thrown by his comment... not that he had never said 'good job' before... but it was the sincerity and the intent behind it that caught her offguard. "Just doing my job." She paused. It didn't seem like the right response. She reached out with her right hand and took his free hand. She gave him a small smile, returning his eye contact in a surprising way, given the fuzzy edges to the world, "Thank you, sir. I learned from the best." Elle squeezed his hand and reached for her drink. She had learned from the best. Not only Rufus, but Edgar and Moody and Chang. All of them. And now one of the best was gone, and it hurt. It hurt a lot. She looked into the brown liquid and then raised her glass to his, her eyes a little glassy behind her glasses with tears that she wouldn't let fall. "To Edgar." Rufus attempted to look haughty but failed rather badly at it, given that his face wasn't used to twisting in snobby directions. Ah well, he could practice later. Preferably later when Elle didn't look like she was about to start crying. God. He didn't blame her in any way, but he wasn't sure he could handle it after last night. Refilling the glasses ("to Edgar") he swallowed down another shot a bit uncomfortably. This environment was not conducive to lifted spirits. Well, obviously. It was a hospital. But he wasn't about to sit here and mope - they could do that at the funeral. "We're going for a walk," he announced, and spun his chair around before she could argue that she'd lost rather a lot of blood. No really, a lot. "Let's go." As if the idea of a grown woman being carried piggyback around a hospital wasn't bad enough, he was suggesting being carried around by the head auror. Hahaha, this would definitely go over well with the staff. Later he would blame this on the alcohol, but in truth Rufus had an eccentric streak that surfaced in very rare moments of need. He would deny that as soon as feasibly possible, however. "What?" She put down her glass, "I'm not..." but it was too late. Thank Merlin for the alcohol or this would probably have hurt. A. Lot. She gripped him across his chest with her good arm and let the other one support her on his shoulder. She stifled her laughter into giggles, and she had to bury her face in his neck when they passed a Healer who couldn't reprimand them, since he stood there completely dumbfounded by what he was seeing. This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. And she was enjoying every moment of it. Well, except for the pain, but she'd deal with that later. She bit her lip to keep from grinning too wide (after all, she was a patient, she shouldn't enjoy herself too much) and held onto him as well as she could. She wondered how long until word got back to the Auror office about this little promenade. "So where to, Hero? For as long as you can keep me out of that room, I will be in your debt." The vague thought that this might be considered 'unbecoming conduct' crossed Rufus's mind, but he wasn't in the mood for behaviourally stifling edicts at the moment, and simply gripped Elle tight to make sure he wasn't constantly jostling her to keep her steady. It was childish, and almost a relief in its absurdity. Whatever, he was the head auror and he could do what he bloody pleased. Last he checked, there wasn't a law against making someone laugh by acting like an idiot. He even smiled at the dumbstruck healer by the doorway. "Turrah!" And they had escaped out into the corridors. "Wherever you like, my lady," Rufus replied in what he hoped was a dry and very serious voice (it wasn't), and he turned down a random pathway into the sunny glass windows of the visitors' area. She laughed and ignored the pain it caused to do so. She didn't care. After all of the darkness of the past few months, she needed the laughter and the joy. She had thought they had obtained some of it the day before, but then it had been completely destroyed by... No. She would not think of it. Not now. Not when her ginger haired, stern, hardass of a boss was carrying her around on his back and acting like... well, like a kid. She grinned and gripped onto him as they turned down the pathway with the windows, and she closed her eyes and let the sunlight wash over her. She squeezed him in a sort of strange hug from behind, and let her eyes flutter open, "Sometimes, amid all the darkness, I forget that we're still surrounded by beauty and sunlight and good things." She let her gaze linger out the window for a moment before an idea popped into her head. "Oh! You know what would be glorious right about now?" She paused for barely half a breath, "Ice cream." Rufus gave her a bit of a cheerful bounce, but winced as he remembered that she was probably in - what was the word - oh, right, excruciating pain. He had to admit, though, that she was right. He rarely left the office these days - so little so that he'd forgotten what real sunlight looked like - not the pitiable recreations that appeared in the DMLE 'windows' whenever those in charge of them were having a good day. "Ice cream... hm." He wasn't sure he could get away with taking her outside - plus he imagined most people in muggle London would find this scene even more ridiculous than those staring at them right now did. But there was a canteen in Mungos and though the ice cream probably wasn't amazing (hospital food had a knack of being untasty, probably because they were focused on 'health' and 'goodness' - ew), it was something. "Your wish is my command," (he'd always wanted to say that), and Rufus headed for the lift. She laughed and gave him another squeeze, "You are my hero, Mr. Scrimgeour!" Ice cream! As silly as it sounded, the idea of ice cream was paramount. She wanted it, and now. Even St. Mungo's not-so-great variety. Ice cream was ice cream when you were stuck in a hospital. She'd have the good stuff as soon as she was out of here. He took them onto the lift and Elle avoided making eye contact with anyone. She wondered how long it would be before a Healer came back and saw that Elle was missing. Oh, yes, and that there was a half-gone bottle of scotch next to her bed. They couldn't truly expect to keep her down for that long though, could they? Well, they could, but she wasn't about to let them. And neither was Rufus, apparently. "So," she said, keeping with their rather childlike moment, "what is your favorite kind of ice cream?" Rufus shuffled her toward the door panel and punched one of the buttons to take them to the proper floor. "Hm." He mulled thoughtfully over this loaded question. "Do they make scotch ice cream?" He wasn't quite sure, not being a regular ice cream imbiber himself. In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had ice cream. A year ago? A decade? His typical sweet intake consisted of doughnuts and biscuits and the occasional pie. The lift binged and opened and they were greeted with fresh stares as Rufus carried Elle onto the main floor. He veered right toward the canteen, smiling cheerily at a suspicious looking healer (after all, Elle wasn't exactly dressed in typical daywear), and, once inside, located a cushy chair in which to dump her (gently). "What do you want?" he offered (chivalrously). "I don't know if they do. I'm sure they do... probably not here though. I know people who pour scotch in their ice cream. Too bad we didn't bring it with us!" She laughed and lowered herself as gently as possible into the chair where he deposited her. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with her anticipation of ice cream. It didn't strike her as odd that he was being so chivalrous with her; she always assumed, in the back of her mind, that there another side of Rufus that she had never seen. Apparently she had been right, because she was seeing it today. She quietly enjoyed it... not that she would tell him that. "Hmm," she brought her fingers to drum against her chin in thought, "strawberry, please." She grinned up at him and then settled into the chair to watch him as he went. This was definitely different than how she had imagined her day going. She also had imagined Rufus sitting by her bedside pouring over paperwork. Not pouring scotch. (...and giving her a piggyback ride. She still hadn't quite wrapped her mind around that one.) Rufus trotted off, quite content at having diverted any crying, though in the back of his mind he was still wholly unsettled. Luckily it was the front of his mind that he was using at the moment, and he had a lovely chat with the girl behind the cafe counter as he tried to figure out which flavour ice cream he wanted. Eventually he settled on vanilla - in a cup of coffee. Strawberry cone in one hand and steaming cup in the other, he meandered back to where he'd left Elle. "I don't know if scotch would go well with strawberry," he remarked idly, testing her ice cream before handing it over - just in case it was poisoned. Couldn't take any chances nowadays. She watched him chat up the girl behind the counter and found herself wondering how he was still single. Now if something was going to throw her for a loop, it was that thought. Of course she knew why: Rufus was married to his work. He didn't have time for anything else, and a woman would merely distract him from what he needed to do. But the fact that she wondered it at this moment unsettled her. You are obviously addled in the brain, Abercrombie. She gave him a smile as he came back to her, part of her really loving being waited on. It didn't happen very often, if ever at all. Elle said nothing about him testing her ice cream, but she noticed. She was touched, actually, that he would think about that. She actually wouldn't have, at least not here at St. Mungo's. But she had to remember that nowhere, really, was safe anymore. The Enemy had infiltrated every facet of life, even a building of Healing, she was sure. "Maybe not. Probably better with vanilla. And coffee," she gave him a sly smile and almost, almost winked at him. She took a taste of her ice cream and closed her eyes as she savored it, "but I think it's pretty good on its own. Thank you. You're just spoiling me. Maybe I should get injured more often if it means I get carried around and waited on by the Head Auror." Rufus made a noise in his throat. "Spoiling? No, this is early bribery. To soften the blow of sorting through my papers come Monday." And he was only half joking, for he'd been berated often enough by secretaries in the past (usually as they were angrily quitting) to know that his 'filing system' (aka throwing things in his office and shutting the door quickly and/or piling up the most recent files on his desk/bed) was atrocious and, in the words of one secretary "inhumane torture, very probably contradicting the Geneva convention." He hadn't taken very kindly to that, despite not knowing what the Geneva convention was, and told her that her 'office terrorism' wasn't appreciated, thank you. That had earned him a word from Muriel, but he was a stubborn ass and not ashamed to acknowledge it. If a secretary couldn't work around him, he wasn't interested. He had a system. "And I'd really rather you stayed in one piece," he said quietly, soberly, over his cup - as if the exhaled steam might add weight to his words. A sip made it obvious that ice cream did little for the coffee (which he preferred black) but it wasn't bad. "I thought you said you didn't want me to go into your office. Or is this just the disaster of paperwork from the past couple of weeks?" She lapped at her ice cream as lady-like as possible, but she was rather certain that she was failing. At the very least, she probably just looked like a child on a warm summer's day, trying to keep as much of the ice cream off her fingers that wrapped around the cone, and more of it actually into her mouth. "I'd better get well sooner rather than later, or your paperwork is going to drive me to join the ranks of those that have left you due to your insane sense of 'filing'." She hadn't been in the office that long, but she had heard about his revolving door for the secretaries. And she had taken a peak into his office before. It really was rather frightening. "Worried about me, boss?" She was teasing him, obviously. Of course he was worried about her. He was worried about all of them. And given the events of the past few weeks, who could blame him? They had a formidable foe on their hands, and every day they survived was a miracle. Or at least that was how Elle saw it... for the most part. "I'll do my best to stay in one piece," she returned, her tone a little bit sobered as well, "Truthfully, it was my fault. I was too close. If I'd been even two feet back I could have deflected it... but I was focused on Ichabod and trying to get to the assailant. I wanted to take him down, bring him in... and he was good with his spellwork." She looked down at her wrapped left arm, "I was too close." It was a strange moment, with her pondering the mistakes she had made the night before while eating strawberry ice cream. She was enjoying their stolen, sweet moment, but it didn't change the fact that one of their own was dead, as well as his entire family, and that she had almost joined them. Merlin, she didn't want to think about any of it. "You can kick my ass about it when I'm in tip-top shape, yeah?" "Oh, I mean my other filing cabinet. The one I sit at." His desk, of course. There were about a decades' worth of information there, buried beneath parchment and paper bags and sandwiches and coffee cups and ink wells and a rather large, unwieldy typewriter. Of course, that was just how Rufus operated - as a chaotic law & order machine. It was quite contradictory, but it worked for him. He watched Elle eat her ice cream, amused despite the melancholic nostalgia that rose up in him. No, their jobs were never meant to be easy, but things seemed to be getting worse and worse for them. They were good people, and didn't deserve the abuse heaped on them by the public, the media, and the death eaters. "You saved a man's life and you're still alive to learn from your mistakes. I'd call that a good thing." And he meant it - every word. "Get into tip-top shape first and I'll see if these old man bones can handle a spar." He resisted calling her a whippersnapper... but he was close. "Uh oh. Is that one yours?" He pointed a finger across the cafe toward the opposite door, where an irritated healer stood, hands on hips and glaring around the room. "I'm scared of that one almost as much as I'm scared of your office," she grinned, "I don't know how Gladys, Jo, & Amelia put up with you. I'm glad I at least have Jo as a buffer area." She laughed lightly as she started to nibble at the cone. Her own desk was nearly immaculate, something she wasn't sure if Rufus could ever accomplish. She needed a neat and tidy space to work in; she could never function at full capacity in the chaos that Rufus seemed to thrive in. She gave him a skeptical look, "Old man bones? There are many things I would consider you, Rufus, but old isn't one of them." It was true. There were plenty of words that she could use to describe her boss. Many of them wouldn't necessarily be considered compliments, but none of them were derogatory to his age. Yes, obviously he was older, but he moved just like the younger Aurors did, but with the wisdom they could only dream of. She could only wish she could work as well as he did, and stay that young. "Besides, if you had old man bones, you wouldn't have been able to carry me around this hospital. I expect a spar when I'm up to snuff." "Ah, fuck," she said as she spied the none-too-happy Healer, "I don't suppose we could make a run for it, could we?" Never mind the fact that 'running' probably shouldn't be part of her vocabulary at the current moment. Hey - maybe he could run with her on his back. Now that would be a sight to see. "Can you force them to let me out today?" "Put up?! Nobody puts up with me! I am universally loved!" In case it wasn't obvious he was joking, he tacked on an "especially the Daily Prophet." He found arrogance to be boring; he had a fairly good estimation of his own abilities and wasn't interested in exaggerating or underestimating them... it was just that self-deprecation was usually amusing, and he preferred to keep the conversation in that general avenue. Another glance toward the other door. "Forcing just makes them tetchy," and from what Rufus could tell, squinting across the cafe without his glasses, the healers were already in quite a strop. "Better finish your cone, Abercrombie. We've got to get on the move." He set his coffee to the side, reconsidered, slurped down half of it, grimaced at the heat, and then finally abandoned it on the side table. "Shift, woman!" "Oh yes," she couldn't help but giggle, "the Daily Prophet loooves you. Stellar articles about you are written every day. Twice a day!" She took another few bites of her cone as her downed his coffee and then dropped the rest of the cone in his half-drained coffee cup. "I'm moving, sir!" She got to her feet (and tried not to wince during the process) and gave a glance to the healer over her shoulder. "It may make them tetchy, but it would get me back in the office sooner. Or at least back in a comfortable bed. The beds here are horrendous!" She took a step to the opposite door, away from the Healer, and leaned in, "What's your plan?" Elle wasn't very good at not wincing, and as Rufus made to pass her, he swept her off her feet (literally) and into his arms. He could walk faster when someone didn't have a death grip on his throat (although, to be fair, she hadn't actually strangled him... yet). "Escape!" He announced loftily, moving beyond the lift and doing a side spin into the stairwell. Up and up and up, and Rufus pressed her to his chest to minimise bouncing (it didn't help, and he didn't apologise so much as tell her it would build character). Unfortunately, he didn't seem keen on helping her actually escape the building. "Uncomfortable, maybe," he began, turning down hallways with a surprising aptitude of the hospital's layout, "but you need to finish healing. And to do that you need... healers." Shocking prospect, and Rufus could have stood to follow his own advice, but that was not the point of giving advice, now was it! "You can come into the office tomorrow or Tuesday if they let you go. Play nice and they might even let you out early." Not that Rufus knew this from experience or anything. "And don't try anything funny... I got caught sneaking out of a window and they kept me an extra four days." He wrinkled his nose. Old bones? she thought skeptically to herself as he swept her up into his arms. She curled into his chest as he ascended the steps. She wasn't really paying attention to the fact that in order to escape they would need to be descending rather than ascending. Truthfully, scotch was all well and good, but it wasn't pain potions, and she was still technically bleeding. "You trickster," she said as he made his way around the hospital with an innate knowledge. Obviously he'd been here enough. "And here I thought you were going to help me escape the confines of these walls." Which, in a sense, he had for a little while. She let her head rest against his shoulder and nose almost rested against his neck. Maybe she could sleep. Sleep would be good. "If the beds were comfortable I wouldn't mind them keeping me until Tuesday like they want to." Whoops. Didn't she say Monday earlier? Well... blame it on the scotch, "but I'll behave." She brought her head up though to look at him, and laughed softly. "Wait. You tried to sneak out of a window? When was this?" "Oh no, I had to do my time - you can suffer through these 'orthopaedic' beds for a few more days." He would have air quoted but dropping Elle for the sake of making a point seemed a tad overzealous. Into her room they went, and it was obvious the healers didn't think they'd head back here, for the room was woefully empty but for the scotch bottle, which hadn't been thrown away, but cleaned up and recapped (with the glasses retransfigured back into their proper shapes). Rufus tried to look sheepish but all he managed was a bit of a boyish grin. "In you get." And he dumped her unceremoniously back on the bed. Well... 'dumped' gently. He wasn't a complete ass. "And I don't want to talk about it." Tight lips made him seem momentarily shrewish, but he gave Elle a wink and stretched back onto his chair. "Enough adventures for one day, hm?" One day, one week, one bloody lifetime. Joke all they like, this week had been hell. Elle looked around the room when they entered, and even though a healer wasn't in there, she blushed. They must have thought the worst of her. She also realized that they probably had wanted to come and change her bandages again. They did that entirely too often for her liking. She held onto Rufus to make sure she didn't drop in the bed too roughly, but he was gentle enough that it wasn't necessary. "Story for another day?" She smirked gently and adjusted herself to get more comfortable in the bed (which wasn't entirely that possible, but she tried nonetheless). "Definitely." And she meant it with all the meanings implied in the statement. "You'd better be careful though, or they'll put you on a blacklist that won't let you into the hospital as a visitor. Riling up patients. You should be ashamed of yourself." She feigned a seriously disapproving face and shook her head in apparent disappointment. It didn't last too long though, and she broke into an admiring grin. "Though I think patients need to be riled every once in awhile." "You think I'm not on a blacklist already?" He gave a wicked grin and moved a potted plant from the window-sill to her bedside - into which he hid the flask of scotch. "That should tide you over for a few days, I think. Or... a day. Maybe two without a thirsty Scotsman around." As for the story... "we'll see." It really wasn't as exciting as it sounded. He just... you know... tried to escape out a window - only to be dragged back in by the ear. Those were the good old days, when Healers were plump middle aged (angry) women. "Get some rest, and if you need something, ask. You know, one of your slaves." And he gestured toward the door, through which they could make out the stomping figures of a few irritated healers. "If you were, you wouldn't have gotten in here," she laughed as he moved the plant - and was very grateful that he left the scotch here for her. With them rationing pain potion, she would need it, "are you forgetting I'm just as much of a Scotsman?" She grinned, "Scotswoman, if you will, though I'm not one to be picky about labels." Elle followed his gaze out the door and couldn't help the amused smile that crossed her lips. She looked back to him and reached out for his hand, "Thank you, Rufus, for coming by." It truly did mean a lot. No one wants to be stuck in the hospital with no one to come visit them. And he'd brought scotch! What could be better than that? Her voice, however, became softer, gentler, "I'm glad you're okay." Rufus just laughed. He knew she was Scottish, but a man she was not - though he refrained from venturing into that territory. He took her hand into his and squeezed it a bit - a display of affection to which he wasn't normally prone. "Thank you." And it was in the subsequent, milder smile that one could see how very tired Rufus Scrimgeour really was. "I'll see you very soon, I'm sure." "You can count on it," Elle said as she returned his squeeze. "Get some rest, boss. You look like shite." She gave him a tender smile and then settled back onto her pillows. She let her eyes close so sleep could come over her, and she listened as his footsteps quietly made it out of the room before she slid into a peaceful sleep without the help of a Dreamless Sleep Draught. |