Jason Todd is (thelazarus) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-05-01 19:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *log, jason todd, tony stark |
marvel:log
Who: Jason and Tony
What: Jason shows up at Stark Tower for a smidgen of medical attention and runs into the guy the tower is named after.
Where: Stark Tower
When: After getting off the mini-helicarrier.
Warnings/Rating: None.
Jason was a firm believer in the longstanding Batfamily tradition of only getting medical attention when you started to pass out, but here he was, in the makeshift infirmary inside Stark Tower, getting his broken nose tended to and his cracked ribs poked and prodded.
He could handle his own wounds, thanks. He knew how to down a lot of pain medication and wait for the rib, which was basically all the medics were going to tell him anyway. He knew how to snap his own nose into place, had done that before, knew it hurt like an incredible bitch had kicked him in the nose with a boot, but he knew how. He was only in the infirmary because Gwen had insisted, insisted, insisted until there was nothing to do but acquiesce, just to keep her calm and get her to go home.
He didn't know what was going to happen to Gwen, now. If she was lucky, everyone had been too busy running and screaming to notice that reality melted and refroze around her like ice cream in a bad fridge. Even if no one had seen, though, she would only get so lucky for so long. He couldn't be fully honest with her about the trouble she might be facing, though, since it was important to just keep her calm or risk exacerbating the problem he was trying to solve.
He busily mulled that over (was anyone around who could teach her? Had she met Wondy? She seemed good at stuff like this. Maybe Clark? People who hardly knew him who he could ask for favors, perfect) while a medic pushed on the small of his back and forced him to sit up straight and told him not to bind his chest with tape under any circumstances, even if it helped the pain. Great.
One quick check of the nose later (fine, fractured but not in need of realignment), a fresh bandage for his purple and blue bruise, and he was being nudged out the door, a prescription for pain meds in one hand and his leather jacket in the other. He had it wrapped around his helmet to cover it up, keeping the ostentatious thing from view. They hadn't let him keep his guns, those he'd have to retrieve from the guy at the front door. He really was the best fearsome vigilante force of the night.
Now he was on his own. He slipped off to the side of the main lobby, pulling his journal from his back pocket to check it. He leaned up against a wall with a faint hum that almost disguised the grunt after a blunt wrench of pain in his chest. Once in position the pain eased off. He glanced up at the people streaming past, leaving the building or heading for another floor, before flipping through the journal. He had to make it back out the door and in again, but all he really wanted to do was sleep. The journal gave him an excuse to lean on something, finally, and just rest a moment. He pretended to read and took a few slow breaths, letting the pain and tension drop away. Just a few minutes, that was all.