Summary:A recently re-furred Hank McCoy is confronted with a wing-shot Shayera Hol. Medical care ensues Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Shayera Hol has no idea if this clinic she's been to before in the area known as Mutant Town is open after hours, but she really doesn't have much choice. Despite the attempts of the others she'd joined to stop a delivery of likely illegal goods from entering the tunnels under the Disaster Zone, her left wing was still bleeding and even trying to move it was agony.
With the help of a befuddled by agreeable enough member of the NYPD and his large K-9 unit SUV (the actual driver of the vehicle and accompanying dog stayed behind), she was given a lift to said clinic. Her hate of Grounder vehicles is even more well-founded now, after having to crawl through the vehicle from the back to give her wings room. With both now furled against her back — one under its own power, the other very painfully folded and held in place by hastily acquired bandages — she waits in the fur-ridden truck while the police officer goes to see if there's anyone in the clinic who can help.
As it happens the clinic is in fact still open, unfortunately they're strapped for funds a lot of the time, medical supplies and gear being expensive. Still, the triage nurse sees the police officer, and moves to the door. A slightly portly black woman, she has a name tag that says 'Maggie', and she opens the door which she had just locked less than half an hour ago, she was actually about to get her coat and such and head out. As the door is unlocked, one Hank McCoy pokes his head out to observe, now, those who know Hank would recognize his fuzzy form, but Shay and the Police Officer don't - of course this is Mutant Town, so a fur covered guy? That's like finding a book or two in a library!
Maggie opens the door, and Officer Matheson smiles. "Hey, Maggie…got time to help a friendly out? She has special needs." Maggie looks to the officer. "Honey, we got time." She declares, looking over a shoulder at Hank, who nods affirmation. "Of course we do, Maggie."
The officer is obviously happy to hear that, and with a tip of his hat moves back to help Shayera into the clinic. Hank's nostrils flare a bit, and he takes in the scent of blood and the woman's pain, and, oh—hey, he knows her. "Miss Hol." He greets in his deep bass. Now, this is clearly Hank, the voice and eyes are dead on the same, but his form is sheathed in thick blue-black fur, his teeth much sharper, the fangs far more prominent, and he has retractable fighting claws on his digits. "Please come in, let me see what I can do to help."
It's worse than embarrassing to have to have help both getting out of that damned car and into the damned building. Shayera grits her teeth and bears the frustration of feeling like she's some weakling, knowing the officer and the people inside were honestly only trying to help.
It keeps her from lashing out at them, but it doesn't stop the snarled curses in her native language when her injured wing brushes against the doorframe. She's still wearing her full armor obscured by dark-colored clothing, but her mace is VERY easy to spot. She can only hope the woman at the door… Maggie? What kind of name is that? … will forgive its presence. And the fact that it appears to have very recently seen use if the red smears on it are any indication.
Well, pain is a very unforgiving sort of a thing, not kind at all. IMPORTANT, you -need- to know when something's broke or damaged, no question, but it is never fun. Maggie is more than a little taken aback. "Special needs?" She asks Officer Matheson, eye-balling the bloodied weaponry and crudely bandaged and bloody wing.
Hank, however, seems fine with it, and so Maggie doesn't make a fuss. "Look…" Matheson says. "…I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go." Maggie just shakes her head. "You're fine, Tom. Doc McCoy can handle it." She smiles and pats the guy's cheek, and turns him around to shoo him from the building. "Get home to your wife and kids, tell Chrissy I said hi…we got this."
She then helps, if allowed, Shayera into the exam room where Hank is already prepping for trauma care and looks up as they enter. "Maggie, I might need some help here, can you stay a while?" She nods. "Sure thing, doc." He smiles, and then looks to Shay. "What happened?" He asks.
Shayera allows Maggie to help her to the exam room, mentally registering the officer's departure but not visibly acknowledging it. Almost the entirety of her attention is on NOT lashing out, so she looks to pair in the exam room like a vacant and shivering mess.
Stopping is its own form of agonizing relief, and she blinks owlishly at Hank once or twice before replying hoarsely, "Lollpea Grounder. Dared shoot at me." And clearly, he managed to hit.
Hank is already donning gloves, as is Maggie. "Now, I know your physiology is different than human norm, but not /how/ different. Do you know if pain meds work the same on you, Miss Hol?" A pause. "I am going to be unwrapping the wing now, and will need to touch it, please try to avoid any sudden movements, and please don't smack either of us with that formidable looking mace." Once they're both gloved, Hank will very carefully uncover the wounded wing and Maggie will help keep it still - she is gentle, but firm, and clearly no stranger to exotic physiologies. Eyes of blue are focused tight on the injury - trying to gauge just how sever it is, and his considerable brains working on the issue. Fortunately, more than one of the mutants at the institute have had wings, he's really pretty good at 'wing care'.
"Dunno." It's never come up before. "Don't bother, just do it." Shay will tough it out, this time, and when she next talks to her contacts back home, she'll request some of the more readily available medications to keep here. As if to reassure the pair, she almost pointedly lets her mace drop to the floor with a VERY heavy sounding THUNK. And then it occurs to her that it might damage the flooring. Oops.
Squeezing her eyes shut and hissing as they unfurl her wing to assess the damage, going back to focusing almost all of her attention on refraining from throwing kicks or punches.
The gunshot wound itself is surprisingly small. A through and through that appears to have somehow avoided the tendons and bones but pierced the wing equivalent of her forearm muscles.
Hank sighs very softly, and then gets to work as requested. He is shockingly deft in his ministrations, and Shay will surely feel him using his claws as part of that touch. "Oh, this is quite fortunate, Miss Hol, the bullet missed anything vital, just hit muscle. I now it /hurts/ and you won't be flying for a while, but rest assured there's no damage to the bones, and the tendons are just inflamed from the trauma but not injured."
Yes, Hank's very much relieved. Bone, tendon or ligament damage to a wing is /serious/…as in 'serious enough that he'd want a full surgical suite' to work on such. Fortunately this is not the situation.
"My first order of business is to stop the bleeding, this will involve pressure, and possible stitches. If I cannot stop it that way, we might have to resort to cautery, but that is the very last option."
He moves with surety, cleaning, then doing what he can to stanch the blood flow, unfortunately that will involve a fair amount of manipulation of the site, and then careful applications of antiseptic and bandages.
"Fine," Shay bites out through clenched teeth. "Just… get it done." She'd never admit it aloud, but at this point she's half tempted to hit HERSELF in the head with her mace, if only to knock herself out so she doesn't risk hitting the doc. Maggie, intelligent woman that she is, is apparently staying WELL out of arm's reach.
By the time the bandages are being applied to the injury on her left wing, she's taken to biting into the leather straps of the vambraces on her right arm, her left hand clutching her other wing tightly as if to keep it from flapping and destroying everything around them.
Once he's done, Hank shakes his head. "Your scent is very close to 'Grounder' with elements of avian, I am reasonably certain that conventional pain meds should work on you, Miss Hol." He opens up a cabinet, and then roots about until he finds some Extra-Strength Tylenol, not the generic, the real deal. A pair of tablets are emptied into a small plastic cup a bit smaller than a shot glass, and a bottled water taken out. He issues both to Shay, and then nods. "I cannot prescribe medication, however, this is an over the counter drug, in short you can buy it at a convenience or drug store with out a scrip." And then he thinks about it, and just puts the whole bottle in her hand. He'll replace it for the clinic. "All done. Now, I'd like to see you again in three days to make sure things are healing well, and I believe you have my contact information, so do not hesitate to all if there's anything going wrong or if you need help, mm?"