fandom_clinic | FTEC, Friday Night

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FTEC, Friday Night

Elliot propped herself behind the desk, smiling a little from having meant so many nice neighbors that morning. She turned on the TV and immersed herself in a marathon of reruns of The Z-Cases.

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For checking in

Bridge leads the small group of students into the clinic, Peter trotting along with them and keeping a suspicious weetinypony eye on Seely, who was carrying the unconscious girl.

"Hey, um... we've kind of got a problem here." Bridge says.

And of course Elliot sees the pny first annd says, "We don't treat animals."

But then she registers the girl covered in blood. "Lay her down on the couch over there," she directs, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and going to check for a pulse. "What happened?"

"Don't know, exactly," Bridge says. "We were up on the sixth floor of the dorms? And one of the doors swung open and she just kind of fell out."

"Knife wound," Seely added as he carefully laid the girl on the couch.

"I see," Elliot said, mouth grim. as she bent over the girl, hearing the unlikely story, noting the blood and the grime. "And you were all there? Noneof you had seen her before?"

Not waiting for an answer, she bent over Door, then raised her head to address the NPC Nurse. "Nurse, make up room one and set up water and bandaging supplies."

The couch was also a stretcher, and she easily dragged the girl into exam one (http://community.livejournal.com/fandom_clinic/194989.html?thread=5863085#t5863085). "No more than two of you follow me. And not the pony," she declared."

For any patients who may have been in-ly checked.

She's covered in dirt and blood, wrapped in ragbag layers of lace, velvet and polyester that are as battered and bloodsoaked as she is. At this point she's throughly unconscious, but aside from a forest of scrapes and scratches, the only place that's actively bleeding is her shirt-bandaged left arm.

Peter had huffed a sigh, but waited outside as requested. Bridge, however, had followed Elliot into the exam room, feeling somewhat responsible for the girl, seeing as how she'd been found on one of his adventures.

Elliot peeled aside the layers of clothing as much as she could, stopping when she got to what seemed to be the last layer before her skin. With gauze and antiseptic wash, she wiped off the grime before untying the bandage on her arm. It was bleeding quite heavily as she applied pressure to the pulse point nearest the wound.

"Was she wearing the bandage when she, um, fell from the ceiling?"

"Well, it was more out of a doorway than from the ceiling," Bridge says. "And no, she didn't have it before. We used his shirt..." Bridge points to the shirtless Seely, who'd followed into the exam room also.

Elliot blushed at that. "Right. The pony kind of distracted me. It's a nice shirt," she told Seely.

She untied the nice shirt and revealed a long but shallow cut -- like something from a knife, maybe. "Good news, you don't need stitches," she said to the girl as she disinfected and bandaged it, talking in the loud, slow voice that near-comatose patients sometimes respond to. "Can you tell me your name and how you got this?"

She does stir slightly, though her eyes don't open. "Door. A knife and then I opened a door," she says unhelpfully, slurred with more bone-weariness than anything else. Then, her voice more clear but her thinking less coherent, Door adds, "It's not mine," before slipping away entirely into sleep.

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FTEC, Friday Night

Front Desk

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Exam One

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