Grace Jordan (acejordan) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-09-05 19:51:00 |
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The sounds of the Magpie locker room faded away after practice ended, but Nora barely noticed. She cleaned up her office, thoroughly scourgifying every surface and putting each potion and ointment back in its proper place. She adjusted the bottles so that the labels faced out at the same angles. It was a small thing, but an important one. It was something she could control. Satisfied, she closed and locked the cabinet, then jumped as the shadow of a figure appeared in her doorway. "Gracie!" she exclaimed as she tried to force her heart rate back to normal. "You startled me." Grace grinned, softly pleased with herself, though scaring Nora had certainly not been her intention. When she leaned against the doorway, her equipment bag slid off of her shoulder and hit the ground with an audible ‘thunk.’ “That’s on you, I made plenty of noise. I’m not sure I’m capable of being graceful or silent right now. Hear that?” She rolled her shoulder back and grimaced theatrically. “I think I’m falling apart.” "You're not falling apart," said Nora, all business when it came to player injuries. Giving no thought to the close-up cleaning she'd just completed, she gestured to the medical chair at the centre of the room. "C'mon, hop up. Let's have a look." “Nora you're off duty,” Grace protested weakly, chuckling at the look on her best friend’s face. “I was just making a joke, you really don’t need to put me back together again, which, I totally am falling apart. Quidditch at my age?” She whistled. “I’ll be shelved by 30.” She smiled her self-depreciation off and shuffled forward to the seat anyways. Nora's diagnostic charm was quick and didn't find any immediate red flags. Still, she eased Grace's shoulder through a few rotations, watching closely for trouble spots as she worked. "I wouldn't speak too harshly about the age of 30," she said, "in present company. Hold your arm out like this." Grace did as she was told, mouth twitching in slight discomfort. “You? 30? Impossible,” she teased. "It is impossible, since I'm 31. And don't think I didn't see that grimace, Jordan. Keep your arm up." Nora turned to her supply closet, looking for just the right thing. After a moment of searching, she let out a quick "Ah," and turned back to her patient. "This is gonna sting a little." “And smell terrible.” Grace couldn't hide the wince as Nora applied the ointment with deft fingers, but otherwise kept still. Grace held her arm up and dutifully waited for the stinging sensation to dull and then loosen the muscles of her deltoid. She looked a little ridiculous. “What are your plans for tonight?” Nora didn't make a lot of plans these days. Even under the best of circumstances, she and Rhys were exhausting themselves at the bed and breakfast, and going out much of anywhere now was a scary proposition. She had become a homebody. Maybe she was shelved at 30. "Something nonspecific involving Netflix and Rhys, probably," she said before catching herself. "I mean, not … nevermind. Why?" Grace smiled knowingly, letting the joke go unsaid. “That sounds nice,” she added after a quiet moment. “Just wondered if you wanted to hang out.” Grace was feeling a little restless, a restlessness that had only worsened since the team statement. Being alone, hiding out inside of her apartment was her happy place, but these days alone meant alone with her thoughts. And she was worried about Nora. Knowing that Nora didn’t want to talk about her run in with the Snatchers only worried her more. Grace smiled again and lowered her arm. “You see too much of my face as it is though.” Nora smiled faintly. "Right now, I'm more worried about seeing too much of your shoulder. Don't push yourself past a point you can come back from, alright? Or we'll have to get you in to see a real Healer." And who knew what St. Mungo's would be like, now. "And I would love to hang out. Get a cuppa or something." “Nothing could match Rhys’ hot cocoa, but we can do our best.” Grace squeezed Nora’s arm affectionately. “You’re better than any healer, by the way.” She paused, thinking of what the snatchers had said to Nora, the position the statement had put her in. “Do you miss it? Mungo’s I mean.” Nora's smile faded. "Let's save that for another day, yeah?" Or never. "Give me five minutes to get cleaned up again and we can go." Grace’s own smiled dimmed, but she hid it well, pushing her chin into her shoulder. “Sure. We could stay in too you know.” "It's fine," Nora insisted as she re-shelved the ointment and locked the cabinet again. "I'm not going to let them … I'm not scared to go out. Okay? We'll just go someplace with plenty of people around and no one will bother us. Now, up, out in the doorway. I have to scourgify." “Okay.” Grace let herself be shooed. “I’ll bring out the hats,” she said, watching from the threshold as Nora ruthlessly cleaned the area Grace had just occupied. “I’m not sure if it’ll be autographs or tomatoes if someone recognizes us.” "Gigantic sunglasses and we'll be fine. Ready?" “You say that because you look better in them than me,” Grace pulled her bag back up over her non-injured shoulder, smiling at her best friend. Talking or not talking, whatever Nora wanted. As Nora got closer Grace slung her arm over the mediwitch’s shoulder and tugged her close. "Careful with that shoulder, now," Nora said, closing the door behind them. |