| [Sep. 2nd, 2009|09:42 pm] |
"Relax, I don't think they can make us look more ridiculous," Raidou said, eyeing his surgical smock. It was pastel blue, shapeless, and looked a little like a starved bathrobe. But it was an extra layer, and it covered him from neck to mid-calf. If he ignored the colour and the faintly rising scent of sterile chemicals, it was almost like wearing an ANBU cloak again.
He shrugged carefully, resettling the nothing-weight across his shoulders, and wished for a sword. Wheels creaked impatiently on the linoleum floor; Genma made an urgent let's get going noise. Bundled up in blue and green and stuffed into his wheelchair, he looked like a young, crippled doctor who'd fallen on hard times. Albeit, one with caring family members who'd decided to take him for a day trip.
Raidou bit the inside of his lip and stifled the rising urge to laugh. It was relief (they were getting out), or mad grief (crippled; and Raidou still couldn't stand for his own family to see him), or some exasperating tangle of emotions that came from breathing too much hospital air.
"I'm up, I'm up," he said, just a little hoarsely, and cleared his throat. "Moving and everything. Standing, even."
He managed it without the nurse's help, and didn't stagger once on the three quick steps it took to reach Genma's chair. His right hand was steady when it grasped one handle; his left hesitated only briefly by his side, then lifted and settled on the other. His burns barely pulled.
Raidou hitched half a grin. Then the nurse made a pointed coughing sound and nodded at the IV lines trailing behind him, still attached to the inside of his right elbow. "Forget something?" she asked cheerily.
"Oh for--just hook the bags to the chair. It's not like I plan to step away from it." He pulled a wry face, and leaned down a little, putting his mouth closer to Genma's ear. "Suppose I've been tied to you for the last week, anyway. Might as well do it properly." |
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