Darius Delacreaux (painkilling) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-08-25 20:46:00 |
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The next appointment on the list had caused his forehead to wrinkle, and a heavy sigh to fall from his lips. Couldn’t he just be done with Coulombe girls in his life? They never seemed to bring anything good with them. If it was Theo grumping more than normal, or Audrey being bat crap crazy, he’d just… Well, he’d given up. As many times in the past years as he’d vented to Cormac about giving up on dating and women, this time he was really feeling quite done. More done than he’d ever felt before. Done with women who made his head spin, done with working for free and never getting a break, and just… Done with the people who gave him shit for no other reason than he could use magicks, or was a commoner, or…. Whatever the fuck people seemed to be giving him shit for now-a-days. Especially, when he - his whole fucking life - had been trying to help. Maybe he was turning into a bitter old man, but… At this point Darius was starting to see nothing wrong with it. Clearing her throat, he picked up a clipboard and moved into the waiting room. “Coulombe?” Juliette didn’t slink into the room -- exactly. Given the choice, she’d have picked another clinic, but she hadn’t been given much of a choice by the guild elder who had all but marched her here after…. well, she didn’t really want to think about the match. She’d won it, sort of. With a completely unorthodox final assault which included leaving a deliberate opening and… Well. Her vision wasn’t swimming anymore, the process of moving her neck had gone from agonizing to simply painful, and she could name the king and do her multiplication tables and her nose wasn’t really bleeding, much, and all right, she needed a healer. Just… why this one? So while she didn’t slink into the room, she also likely looked like she didn’t want to be there. Maybe, if they could get through this quickly, he would… conveniently forget whose sister she was. The kid was a wreck. One glance over could tell him that much. A quick note was made on the clipboard before it was tucked underneath one arm. “This way.” He gestured in the direction for her to walk, let the kid go first, and hoped - Damn did he hope - that she didn’t sway and pass out in the hallway while making to the back room. Though, this tension likely wasn’t helping either of them at this point. Clearing his throat, Darius decided that perhaps small talk was one of their best bets. “So, whose fist did ya run into anway?” “Foot,” she corrected immediately, though she supposed she’d run into his fist too, five or six times. “Whose… that is, it was just a spar. A colleague. I didn’t block well.” Or at all. Somewhat on purpose. Finally sitting down when they reached the back room was an enormous relief. She closed her eyes and swallowed down the rush of nausea. “It was suggested I see a healer.” “Foot.” He repeated a bit under his breath with a nod of head. Fucking fighters. Thankfully, he managed quite well not to voice that thought. “Seems like they took it kinda rough on ya for just a spar.” Though, in these passive words there was just a touch of concern. Were they all trained like this? If they were, it was almost no wonder why Fighters seemed to have such blatant disregard for their own bodies, especially if their colleagues had none for them as well. However, when they got into the back room, he shifted, putting the clipboard down on the nearest steady surface and began to wash up. “I can see why. Surprised you made it back here okay if I’m honest.” Darius’ words were sincere, and he turned to look at her again as he finished the prep to take a better look at her. “Was afraid of you collapsing in the hallway.” A weak smile was offered as he shifted off to one side, picking up a stethoscope to hang around his neck. “So, let’s start simple, what hurts?” She barely managed to avoid saying, with some small measure of pride, that her opponent had not fared better. It was probably not the right moment to express pleasure with her accomplishments. “I can walk.” Now. She’d needed some help to get here, but never mind that. What if he was talking to Alys again? She’d successfully managed to steer clear for some time now but… no, best just to try not to be memorable. “My neck, my head,” she answered shortly. Also her ribs, her hips, one knee… that was all normal, that would pass. She’d clear those bruises on her own, once she wasn’t so muddled. Then, somewhat hopefully, “I don’t think my nose is broken.” He nodded, eyes shifting to examine a bit more closely what she listed off. Though, at the upbeat nature of not having a broken nose, he couldn’t help but give her a slight smile. “How about you let me have the final say on that one, yeah?” Darius’ tone was kind as eyes moved over her nose for a second though, it didn’t seem likely it was broken from a look over but… You could never be entirely sure. “Pain levels?” There would be a pause before she said, “Tolerable.” Which was relative right now -- she’d certainly had worse once or twice, though this ranked up there with her worst training injuries -- but she didn’t want to raise a fuss. And she really didn’t want to explain exactly how she’d come to get these injuries in the first place. Since he seemed content not to mention her sister, she would just do the same (although, worried the little voice in the back of her mind, if he chose to tell her about it afterwards… perhaps it was simply better to ask him not to mention it… it wasn’t really such a serious affair). Tolerable to a fighter…. Darius wanted to sigh. He wouldn’t, but boy howdy did he want to. “Alright.” A pause as he still looked over her, trying to see what he could suss out. “How about your range of movement in your neck? Is there one way that hurts more than the other for it to move?” She’d probably pulled something, or bruised something. There was a fleeting thought of potentially torn muscles or tendons, which he really hoped wasn’t the case, but she wasn’t crying, and seemed to have some - even if only a little - range of movement so… Maybe it wasn’t so terribly bad. “I can turn it this way,” she said turning it left. Not so much the other; she tried, but gave up, wincing. She looked down at her hands, wishing wholeheartedly to be done with this. She could feel his eyes on her, and (she imagined) his judgment. Very softly she, ventured, “It really isn’t so bad so… if you could please just… not mention it to… anyone. I would appreciate that.” A look of concern flashed across his face at her pain, and then the… Rather broken sentence that followed. “Hey.” The word came out soft, and he offered as sincere, yet slightly sad smile as he could manage. “Doctor, patient confidentiality, yeah?” Reaching over, he gently patted her knee before pulling back. “Alright, lets get you fixed up, yeah?” |