Pete Wisdom is saving the world...from itself. (mister_wisdom) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-25 15:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, moira mactaggert, neena thurman (domino), pete wisdom |
"Can we get this over with quickly?"
Who: Domino, Moira MacTaggert, Pete Wisdom
What: Cleaning up a mess, the medical edition! Dom gets her leg issue professionally sorted out, after hours. Snark and quips happen. Lots.
When: After this message
Where: Moira's mad scientist lab
Rating: PG13, language, and the medical stuff wasn't really described besides a glossing over mention here and there, so that's probably not an issue in here.
Status: Complete!
After some unsuspiciously reckless driving, Pete pulled the car up at the back entrance of Frankenstein's laboratory, and helped out the bampot....oh, sorry, Domino. With her leg rot.
Moira was already waiting, with her bag. This was getting old. How'd she get wrapped into this? Right, her bleeding heart. And the fact she was pretty certain both involved were mutants. She wondered what Neena's powers were - she didn't remember her from any dreams, yet.
Neena's current power set was the ability to smile while a hole on either end of her leg leaked crap no one wanted to see or talk about, and making great jokes about it. She was also great at hating herself. Most of that wasn't relevant though, as she got out of the car and hobbled in the direction of the hospital. She kind of hoped she didn't regress this time or black out or whatever that weird shit had been.
Really, seriously? If it was up to Pete, he'd never have to deal with MacTaggert, ever again. But this didn't involve him, it was Domino that was the issue, and he'd left it up to her, at least, to decide if she wanted to go in. After he'd intervened and messaged, of course, and gave her The Look(tm) that was like he was berating without words, by staring right through her.
"Right, so she's got the rot," Pete explained, while helping her along, so she didn't fall over. "I didn't spit in it, in case you're wondering. B'cos I know that's not how you clean everything."
Yes, spit only cleans some things.
"I do not have the rot," Domino interjected, "It's just a lot of debris from the wound track. Bullets are warm and fuzzy and do these kind of things, and Pete is a nervous nelly. We should give him a valium."
"If we're lucky I won't have tae amputate," Moira replied, jokingly. "Get her in this wheelchair, we'll take t'back elevator, I need her in a sterilized environment, this isn't a bloody battlefield we're doin' this right. Local anesthetic, since I know ye'd insist on not goin' under.
"Oh, cheers," Pete was saying. He made it a point after helping Dom into the wheelchair, to light a cigarette and smirk at MacTaggert, grumbling the excuse, "I needed me air therapy. It helps relieve nervous nelly-ism."
And he's going to just push the wheelchair in after Dom's butt makes contact with the seat, like he's an angry choo choo engine.
"That'll be great, then Pete can call me Gimpy and Hop Along for the rest of my life, which always fills me with joy to hear," Dom quipped. "And this is too a battlefield. It's just a different war. With scalpels and strange equipment and wierd smells." She parked her butt in the wheelchair, and closed her eyes. It was easier if she pretended she wasn't going into a hospital. "Can we get this over with quickly? I have a floor to bleach and some random acts of violence to commit."
And Moira is going to put out the cigarette, "Are ye a bampot? Put that out, smokin' would just lead tae ye bein' discovered here. Shite. Some spy ye are. Cop. What have ye."
Muttering, Moira led them to the service elevator. It was fairly large, and had been used to get most of the equipment up to the lab. Which is where she was taking them, "Yuir lucky I was workin' late, lass. If ye both keep this up I'm goin' tae start billing."
"I'll have the CIA mail you a check. Do you want one with Uncle Sam on it?"
"Aye." Moira smirked, "As long as it dunnae bounce. Actually can ye jus' have the Chinese send it. They own all the bloody debt anyhow."
And Pete has more where that came from, all over his person, and he'll light another first chance he gets and accuse her of not having enough extraction fans.
"M'not a spy, you arse, I'm with Interpol. Bugger off," Pete said, continuing to smoke, undaunted, because he can light a cigarette and roll a wheelchair at the same time. "Bill whome’er. It's not like I spend me money on more than liquor and cigarettes."
"I'll bill the lad then, since he volunteered sae helpfully." She reached over and tried to snatch the fag out of Pete's mouth, "Feck, I'll charge ye extra for lung cancer!"
Pete lit another one. Like he had implied, he's undaunted. And spiteful.
She tried to snatch THAT one too.
Pete smacked the cow's hoof hand away. Puff puff.
"Well bill Interpol then, or ... I have cash somewhere, I don't care. I'll bring you in some cash. Fuck. This whole thing is stupid. I shouldn't have come here." Panic attack was not happening. Nope, it wasn't. She took a deep breath, and let it out.
Too late, the elevator door slid shut, and they were lifted upwards! It slid open a minute later, and Moira led them over to a table. She'd already set it up in preparation for this, having pushed her work with a) Inhibitors b) Tony Stark related junk c) X-gene d) real viruses and e) Legacy virus away on gurneys and tables. And all of that was on top of her normal surgical duties. Sleep? What's that? "Get her ontae this table."
"Onto the table, you heard Doctor Harpy," Pete was saying as he helped Domino up onto the table and gave her a good luck pat on the ass to distract her from the fact she was probably going to have to deal with needles again. Or other things. Doctor medical shitty things.
"She better not tell me to show her where it hurts," Domino muttered to herself, while getting herself up on the table. "Keep talking to me. I don't want to go back to whatever the hell ... place... and things, with straightening aisles in the grocery store in your cart." With that stated, she settled in as best she could, for being on a medical table.
Moira yanked Neena's pants off, and then grimaced, "Wisdom, help me get this packin' off, then I need ye tae wash ye hands and pull on some gloves, ye've been field promoted tae nurse."
She went about washing her own hands and pulling gloves on.
"He's going to look so lovely in ceil blue."
"But I forgot me sexy knickers at 'ome and the skirts are probably not short enough to suit me," Pete was saying, as he smoked his way off to the nearest sink, washed his hands, pulled on gloves, and spit his cigarette out into the sink where it landed with a soft hiss as it went out. He walked back over and waggled his gloved fingers into Dom's face, an inch away from her nose, like they were oogy boogy monsters. Then he went right to work at getting rid of the packing. "Maybe later, I can be the naughty nurse, an' someone can be the stern doctor. I don't mean you, MacTaggert. You do have manly hands, though."
"Oh nurse, oh sexy nurse, I need you to clamp onto something down there with your forceps," Dom joked, while staring up at the ceiling. It was very bright up there thanks to the lamps required to perform surgery worth a damn, and that brought up memories or dreams or both. She didn't want to think about that. "I should have taken a desk job. Those bastards didn't even offer me one, though."
"Keep that up an I'll stitch ye mouth shut, bampot." Moira spat, concentrating on ..well staring at the wound in horror. She silently jabbed a needle in Neena's thigh, "This should numb ye leg. An' probably the rest of ye, but ye'll be awake. Because this is goin' tae hurt like a bitch, lass." Moira cut the poorly done sutures, clucking her tongue at them and then started to clean the wound, vigorously, "Hold this open, bampot."
Pete held them open and wondered if Moira knew any other words besides 'blah blah blah nag nag bloody whine moan bitch' and 'bampot'...because that's all he was hearing, really.
Meanwhile, though, he was saying to Domino, "You can't have a desk job, b'cos you'd shoot your desk, the monitors, the computers, an' anyone who came near you. That's why they didn't offer you one."
"... well I sat through those sutures Pete did last night ... and I managed to jump out a second story window with it, and ... It's not like things hurting like a bitch are NEW to me. But thanks. Can I get a mirror to see what you're doing? And you're right, I'd be horrible. I'd even shoot the cheerful girl with the lunch cart."
Now Moira was staring at Domino in utter horror, "Yuir both insane. Stay still, this isnae heart surgery but it's still delicate work. We need tae leave the exit room for drainage, once I clean it out tae. Och...this is nasty." Several minutes of cleaning and flushing later, and then Moira got to suturing the entry wound, "Okay lad, I need ye tae help me get her onto her side. We'll take care o'the exit wound and then get everythin' packed nice an' tight."
"Right, let me get 'er...by the arse, and give 'er a flipping around," said Mister Kind & Gentle, as he got her onto her side via an ass grab. That was because he decided he was in Rome and he was going to do as Romans did, which was a lot of ass grabbing to make sure that she was properly annoyed and distracted. He's so helpful that way. Kind of like how he suggested they maybe have sex, only with bags over their heads so they could imagine they were with other people entirely, and then there wouldn't be any awkward. See? Pete's so fixy. "There we are. Exit. Drain. Packing. Get to it, while I hold 'er arse here."
"Pack my gauze nice and tight, sexy nurse," Domino mumbled, with that light tone to her voice again, like she was seriously being that cheerful on purpose at this point. "You're such a helper, Wisdom. You're so good at helping. You should do this for a living, really. Wouldn't that be nice? You could pat everyone's ass every day, and they'd never even sue you."
Moira got to work, cleaning that end as well, and then grabbing up some gauze and bandages to press over the wound, "Press ye other hand there, while I wrap the leg." She pressed guaze to the entry wound and then started to wrap and wrap Domino like a mummy, "He'd get sued for malpractice day one after dropping ash intae a wound."
"You're right that I would get sued, and if they 'ad a flabby arse, I'm not touching it," he was saying, while doing what Moira asked. He really wanted it fixed up, so he didn't have to call Domino "Gimpy" or "Lady Hops-a-Lot" or the fifteen billion other possible names he could come up with, that were utterly insensitive and therefore freakin' brilliant and completely hilarious. "I could stop the bleeding, with lit cigarettes. Then tell the cunts to stop crying an' man up."
If she'd really lost that leg, she wouldn't have tolerated those names for longer than a few weeks before she'd be forced to shoot him repeatedly, so it ws probably for everyone's benefit that she kept the thing. Anyway it hadn't even been that serious, and Domino still thought this whole idea was stupid, "See? You've got such great bedside manner."
"If things start goin' green, bring her back so I can hack it off," Moira was saying, ignoring his choice of words.She nodded at Domino, "Okay lass, we're almost done. Keep her steady." And then Moira shot Neena full of more antibiotics, "This is it for sae time, de ye understand. Nae more or ye'll start seein' them nae workin' anymore."
"I'll politely ask the bad guys not to shoot at me if they find me, then."
"Right, then I can throw 'er into a pond and call 'er bob," Pete said, so caringly, because...it really probably would come to him getting shot. There's no stopping him. It usually only got worse, where he was concerned, like a downward slide into bad, worse, worser, worst, and abandon all hope ye who enter here.
"Hey bad guys, I know you found my safehouse and you've got orders to shoot me on sight, but how about some whiskey and cigarettes, and we can just reschedule for ... you know... whenever doctor lady says I can have antibiotics again."
"All right, luv, that's enough, there," Pete was saying, giving Dom a pat on the shoulder and shaking his head at the babbling.
Moira snerked, and tightened the bandages, "Okay. That should dae it..."
"This medical table feels fantastic against my skin, by the way ... what did you do, lube it up with oil or something?"
"Brilliant. Cheers. How much do I owe you for the after hours seeing to," Pete asked, peeling off the gloves and throwing them aside onto the floor, and going for his wallet. "For the procedure and the lube."
Domino giggled in response to Pete's use of the word. "Luube."
"Luuuube," he reiterated, for shits and giggles. Because if you can't make fun of funny words with your friend, then that last shred of life has no meaning.
"Donate it tae a charity," Moira replied, then paused, and added. "I'll send ye the address tae one." Because if she didn't specify he'd donate it to something involving making people drunkards.
"Hey ... Hey ..." Dom reached out a hand to poke at Moira, "You're not bad ... You don't ask me funny questions and stuff... you're not bad."
"It's okay, lass. I'm here tae help, that's all."
"No, here, take this." He threw some money down on a nearby table. "Donate it to wote'er the bloody hell you want to. I can't be arsed. Too many other things on me mind." Like cooked eggs and other situations or things. He went to get the wheelchair so he could get Dommy out of there before she blabbed about all sorts of things.
"Money sounds nice."
"Into the chair you go, you pain in me arse," Pete was saying, helping her down off the table and into the wheelchair. "Right, money's brilliant. Let's get you out of here an' back into bed, so you don't get the rot again."
"Shite, Wisdom, that's a small fortune!" Moira shook her head, and walked them to the elevator, "Seriously, t'both of ye need tae take it easy. I see either of ye within t'next tae weeks I swear tae god I'm removin' a liver."
"I wasn't getting the rot, you ... perfectly beautiful annoying man. ... hey, where are my pants? I had pants when I came in here, right?"
"Nae."
"... oh..."
"In the rubbish bin. It's all right. I like your cheeky bum. I'll pinch it while I'm driving." Pete took his coat off and draped it...right over her head and everything. Then he started pushing her toward the elevator. "Sorted. Cheers, MacTaggert. We're out."
"I'm bloody serious, I hope ye like yuir livers where they are!" If Moira could slam an elevator shut, she would have, just then!
At that point, Pete was simply pleased to have escaped. Which was why, as the doors were closing, he lit a cigarette and flipped her off, with a malicious smirk.
"It's so dark in here, how did that happen?" Dom's voice echoed, from underneath the coat.
"I'll explain it later. I had t'move fast, or she'd take me temperature an' then shoot me full o' needles again, b'cos she's twisted. I didn't e'en want t'ask for pills. For christ's sake. Sadist." Once the doors opened, he pushed the wheelchair out to the car, loaded Dom in, kicked the wheelchair back toward the back door, got in the car, and went vrooooooooom.