Lalita Singh (hardestofhearts) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2016-08-16 12:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2019 [07] july, isaac callahan, lalita singh |
Who: Isaac Callahan and Dr. Lita Singh
Where: UMCB
What: Isaac gets beaten up by a Hellhound and needs medical attention.
When: (Backdated) July 5, after the council meeting
Isaac’s face hurt like hell and his head was pounding and he his left eye was so swollen he could barely open it. Even still, Isaac sat on the exam table swinging his legs like a kid, the paper meant to keep the area clean crinkling underneath his legs. It felt like it had been forever since he’d been to the doctor, which before was a bad thing because preventative care was all the rage, but in this new world order, going to the doctor meant something was wrong. And boy was something wrong. He’d gotten the snot beat out of him by a Hellhound. Isaac was a big guy and had gotten a few blows in before his sparring buddy clocked him in the face and made his head bleed. It’s true what they say about those injuries bleeding more. While Isaac was incapacitated, the Hellhound drove away on his motorcycle. So yeah. Isaac was having a top notch day. After scraping his ass off the ground, he walked himself to the UMCB and now he was waiting for someone to come take a look at his forehead. The bastard who punched him had been wearing a ring. Lita’s half shift at the hospital was winding down; she only had a regular follow up with one of her old surgery patients and -- she squinted down at the chart in front of her -- a woman with an ingrown toenail? Lita frowned. Yeah, that wouldn’t do. She walked down the hallway, peeking at the charts outside the exam rooms to see if she could find something a little more interesting before she clocked out to visit Nick. At third room down she found found something promising. Facial lacerations, possible concussion…she peered up at the name. Isaac Callahan. “Is there something I can help you with, Dr. Singh?” Lita looked up to see who the pissy, imperious voice belonged to. Dr. Todd Clutterbuck, a dumpy, fastidious man who never refilled the coffee machine after he took the last cup, sidled next to her and stood in between her and Isaac’s room, tapping his wingtips on the tile floor. “I was just about to see my patient here.” “Todd, I’m taking your possible concussion and facial lacerations,” Lita replied, handing him the chart she had been holding beforehand. “And I’m giving you my ingrown toenail.” Clutterbuck looked unimpressed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” “Come on, Todd,” Lita reasoned. “Tell you what, if you let me have this one, I’ll tell you who keeps stealing your yogurt out of the doctor’s lounge fridge. Besides, I know this guy.” She gestured to Isaac’s room. “Come on. Do me a solid.” Dr. Clutterbuck looked down at the ingrown toenail chart and then back at Lita. “Fine,” he sighed, tucking the clipboard under his arm as Lita opened the door to Isaac’s exam room. “So, who keeps stealing my yogurt?” “It’s me, Todd,” Lita replied breezily. “And I’m going to keep doing it until you learn how to refill the goddamn coffee pot after you take the last cup. I mean, it’s not brain surgery.” With that, Lita shut the door in the other doctor’s face and entered the exam room. “Under normal circumstances I’d say ‘hey good looking,’” Lita said, offering her banged up patient a commiserable half smile. She could easily picture in her mind the first and last time she’d seen Isaac Callahan in the flesh. Even if she hadn’t seen anything salacious, interrupting Demi and Isaac in mid-coitus hadn’t exactly been Lita’s finest moment, though it had certainly proven to be a memorable meet cute. “But it’s looking like you’re having a rough day, Isaac. Should I even ask how you’re doing?” Isaac gave a pained laugh and slowly shook his head, because there was no good response for how he was doing. Shit had hit the fan in a big way and now he had a busted face that someone was going to have to literally stitch back together. “We meet again, Doctor Singh,” he said, his voice pained but still somehow amused, despite the situation he was in. “I’d say it’s nice to see you, but considering the circumstances, we’d both know I was lying. So why don’t we skip to the part where you make me feel better? This hurts like a bitch.” “That I can do,” Lita replied, pulling up the rolling stool next to Isaac’s exam table to better look at him. She perched on the edge of the chair and pulled on a pair of latex gloves before moving in close to examine the injuries to his face better. He really was good looking, disarmingly so, even when he was a bit worse for wear. Pushing those unprofessional thoughts aside, Lita pulled her penlight from her pocket and shined it in one eye and then the other. He didn’t seem to be exhibiting any outward signs of concussion but she wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t tick off all the necessary boxes. “So, what the hell happened?” Lita asked, looking into one golden green eye and then the other, Lita mentally noted the pupil constriction before moving on. “It looks like you got into a fight with a Mack truck and lost. Are you experiencing any confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting? Like, if you stood up from the exam table, what is the likelihood that you'd keel over?” “No to all of the above,” Isaac said, being as compliant as possible during Lita’s exam, even though she was shining very bright things into an eye that really didn’t want to be open in the first place. At least the nurse before had wiped away most of the blood. “I’m not going to ‘keel over’ but I did get my ass kicked by one of those giant, hairy Hellhounds. And the fucker was wearing a ring, which is why I have this,” he said, pointing to the deep cut above his left eyebrow, “little beauty. Well, not so little. I’m actually surprised it’s mostly stopped bleeding, since head wounds always bleed so much.” “That’s quite the souvenir,” Lita murmured, turning her attention to the cut above Isaac’s eye. He was right; it appeared nastier than it actually was. Still, Isaac was lucky a blow like that hadn’t damaged the orbital bone, or the eye itself. Lita wasn’t sure if Isaac would see it that way but that didn’t make it any less true. Lita was thankful; she wouldn’t have known what to say to Demi if she had sent her boyfriend home sans eyeball. “I’d hate to see the other guy,” Lita replied, picking up some gauze. The AWOL dogs were a danger, to both Austin at large and to the club. The club proper had been so eager to try and bleach out the taint of their past deeds with legitimizing themselves; these rogues were doing their damnedest to bring the hounds down at all costs. Lita dabbed some saline solution on the clean pad. The nurse had done a pretty good job at cleaning things up that Lita only needed a quick swipe to make an assessment on whether or not he’d need stitches. “I got in a few punches, but I guess it’s lucky for him I don’t wear spikes on my fucking fingers,” he grumbled. “Where did this happen?” Lita asked, studying the wound. “They can’t be so stupid as to stroll right into the Capitol and start picking fights with the biggest guys they see.” Lita paused. “Actually, now that I say it out loud, that sounds like just the sort of thing these dummies would do.” “Yeah, they’re getting pretty ballsy,” Isaac agreed. “Was walking between the Capitol building and The Bar when I got jumped. What I want to know is why the hell someone like that could slip the city’s security and even make it so far into the city. God knows what he was planning on doing if he hadn’t run into me.” Isaac shook his head in disdain before realizing his movements weren’t making Lita’s job any easier. “Sorry,” he muttered, stilling his head. “So how’s it looking, Doc? Do I need stitches?” It wasn’t that Lita couldn’t believe the renegades were as dumb and desperate as to attack someone like Isaac out in the open, it’s just that she didn’t want to. God knows what he was planning on doing if he hadn’t run into me echoed in Lita’s mind. Being so close to the Capitol, it could have been Savannah the rogue had come across on her way out of the city council meeting, or Demi out on an errand for The Bar. Lita hated to think of anyone standing in the way of a desperate, violent man but thank God Isaac had at least been able to hold his own when it could have been any number of innocent bystanders caught up in the rogue Hellhound’s rebellion. “You’re looking great. The cut? Not so much. Sorry to say you’re going to need some stitches,” Lita said with a rueful shrug, standing to grab her supplies and lay them neatly on her tray before sitting back down. Lita grinned and gingerly injected a local anesthetic above Isaac’s brow. She waited a few moments before picking up the needle and working it through the cut, tugging the wound closed with every suture. “Lucky for you, I’m an artist when it comes to this sort of thing. Doubt you’ll even have a scar. Unless, I mean, Demi is into that sort of thing.” Lita smiled, her eyebrows arching beneath her bangs. She wasn’t particularly known for her bedside manner but it was easier with someone she knew, albeit it peripherally. Isaac groaned, though it had nothing to do with the the needle sewing his cut together. He just knew Demi was going to make a huge deal out of this. Sure, he knew it was fucked up and it could have been much worse but that was just it -- there were a million things that could have happened in that situation but in the end, he’d made it out alive and he didn’t see the point in dwelling on the what ifs. “She’s going to flip her shit when I get home. I texted her on the way here and she wanted to race over here to be with me. I expect by the time I get home she’ll have kicked everyone out of The Bar so she can focus all her fretting on me.” “That sounds about right,” Lita replied with a chuckle. She could see Demi in her mind’s eye, shooing the crowd from their drinks and off their stools so she could pounce on Isaac and go over the incident and eye up the stitches without interruption as soon as he walked in the door. It was a sweet mental image of domesticity; something Lita was altogether unfamiliar with. Lita’s face softened slightly and she looked past the work at her fingertips to catch Isaac’s eye for a moment before returning to swift and sure suturing. “Why didn’t you let her? Come here with you, I mean.” Lita understood not wanting to worry Demi. She’d likely do the same thing if she’d been in Isaac’s shoes but she was curious all the same. He shrugged and gave Lita a slight smile. Physically he was fine. And, truth be told, Demi not being here gave him a bit of time to cool down and not react too explosively when they had the eventual discussion about how her beloved Hellhounds were the ones who had fucked him up. So, really, he was glad to have a little time. It had been quite a while since they’d fought about that and he wasn’t looking forward to it in the slightest. “Because this really isn’t that bad. And you just know that she’d be all up in my face while you’re trying to stitch me up. Added to the fact that she’d need to get everyone kicked out of the Bar before she could even come here. If I were on my deathbed then it would be a different story but I’m going to walk out of here a little banged up but overall, not too worse for wear. Right, Doc?” Isaac smirked. Lita returned Isaac’s grin. It was hard not to. “I think you’ll live,” Lita replied, neatly tying off her last suture. She snapped off her gloves and threw them on top of her tools, rolling back from the exam table and Isaac. She eyed him for a moment, steepling her fingers under her chin as she spoke. “You’re lucky to have her, you know. Make sure you tell her I said hi.” She nodded to the door. “Now go on, get out of here. Stitches should dissolve on their own so don’t let me catch you back in here. Next time I see you better be for pleasure, not business.” Isaac picked himself off the table with a goodbye of his own and Lita watched him go, a bit more intently than she ought to have. He really did have a great ass. She followed his progress out the door, only to be confronted with the decidedly less pleasant image of Dr. Clutterbuck standing beyond the archway, armed crossed smugly over his chest, the head of the H.R. department at his side. Lita heaved a weary, annoyed sigh. A doctor’s work was never done. |