fandom_clinic | FTEC, Friday (17/9)

FTEC, Friday (17/9)

John smiled at the nurses as he came in (he was going for flirtatious, and almost even hit it; at least one nurse shot him a nice smile back) and then stopped, fleetingly, by the front desk. Right.

This was to be his workplace from now on in.

His eyes darted around the room, taking in the number of exits, the open planes of the room, the piranhas flying around outside--

He blinked.

Well, John thought, as he sank down behind the desk and palmed his service pistol where it sat in its holster at his hip, at least I'm not going to be bored here.

He'd be lying if he said part of him didn't want to go out there and shoot a couple.

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If you want to talk to John.

For any future piranha-related injuries.

Well, I picked a day for it...

In the middle of the afternoon, Hawkeye had had more than enough of the piranhas. He went straight to his default plan for situations like this. He was going to hide out in the clinic until the bitey things went away and help to treat anyone who stopped by or passed out at their front door.

He came barreling through the doorway, headed for the front desk. When there was someone there he didn't recognize, Hawkeye straightened and leaned against the desk. The door being closed behind him with no piranhas in sight might have helped with the sudden casualness. "You're not Martha," Hawkeye stated the obvious.

"No," John said, after only one or two small blinks (being used to sudden and unexpected interruptions after a few odd months with Sherlock), "No, I... don't appear to be. Sorry, who are you?"

With it determined that he was not in fact Martha, Hawkeye offered a hand. "Hawkeye Pierce. I work the Tuesday shift, but I'm here on account of there being ravenous flying fish out there."

"John Watson," John offered (which seemed only polite) and shook the man's hand. "I was told to come in here on Friday. Does that kind of thing happen around here often?"

He gave the window a quick nod, meant to encompass the piranhas, the state of their physique (wings) and the island proper, all in one.

He sounded fairly calm about it.

"Not as often as you'd think, but still often enough to make you question your sanity every once and a while," Hawkeye said in a friendly enough tone now that he wasn't catching his breath. He should've used the tricycle to get here faster. "What brings you to our fair shores in the midst of madness?"

"My flatmate took off and came here to prove something to his brother," John said, distractedly. The flying piranha really were odd, and he was starting to wonder whether he was in shock or it was something else that kept him feeling so relaxed about the entire issue. "You do have-- ways of dealing with this, yes?"

"I have ways of dealing with this," Hawkeye assured him. "I make a point of never going without a plan for dealing with this." He waved a hand around in a circle to gesture to the whole island. "You're in luck. I have spare glasses stashed out the back and I restocked the olives on Tuesday. Tell me you like martinis."

"I don't dislike them." John frowned at him. "Though I'd say it's best to keep a sober stomach at a time like this. Don't you think?"

Something occurred to him, then.

"--you wouldn't mind covering the clinic for an hour or so this afternoon, would you? My flatmate is a bit... danger-- prone." And would probably go out to class with or without flying piranhas.

Not that John was particularly invested in the thought of going out and shooting some. Perish the thought. (Piranhas, that is. Unlike 99% of the world's population who'd met the man, John felt no urges towards shooting Sherlock.)

"This is the worst possible time to keep a sober stomach," Hawkeye disagreed. "There are fish out there with a taste for blood. I can't think of a better time to drink to that." Hawkeye was of the opinion that the new guy seemed nice enough, and that he'd learn. The first day on the job was never easy when dinner was trying to eat you. "I have no intention of leaving until they do, so sure, I can cover for as long as you need. The clinic's a safe haven. Nothing comes through those doors that can hurt anyone, so it's the perfect place to wait things out. The company of the nurses doesn't hurt the set-up. What's your field of expertise, John?" Because a piranha attack was the perfect time to get to know your co-workers.

"General surgery, branched out into emergency medicine," John said, as he tilted his head just so to get a better view of the window. Did that piranha just--? "I was told I was a good fit for this place."

He really should call Sherlock, except chances were he'd see 'flying piranha' as an interesting phenomenon and try to catch one--

Oh, right.

"Er, sorry," John said, at war between 'politeness' and 'slightly different priorities than Hawkeye'. "What's yours, then?"

Yes. Yes the piranha really did just--. "Another surgeon!" Hawkeye exclaimed, happy for the company. "You can never have too many surgeons around, especially in a place like this. You'll fit right in. I'm a thoracic surgeon more recently, but after a few years in the Army," he still wasn't able to say that word without the slightest hint of bitterness, "if it's fleshy, I'll operate. Even if it's not fleshy, I'll give it a try. Brains are right out though. Too gooey for my liking."

Well, it was a really impressive --. John had never known airborne piranhas were quite that stretchy. Though at least Hawkeye's comment finally made him sit up a little. "Afghanistan?" he guessed, "Iraq?"

"Korea," Hawkeye supplied. Poor John probably didn't need this today. "Though from what I hear, it's more of the same. You'd think we'd learn from experience, but it's the same old story in every time period."

No. No, he really did not need this today, but on the other hand on some very fundamental level this is my life had already long since settled in.

At least it would make for more entertaining blog posts...

"Korea," John replied, with an upper lip that might as well have been botoxed. "Of course." There is no of course about that.

"You mentioned martinis?"

That brought a smile to Hawkeye's face. "I'll get the olives."

"Yes, please do."

Well, at least this madman brought drinks.

"...Thank you," he added, and thought about reloading his gun. Just in case, right? "You're very kind. And you're right about the wars. They are all alike."

[[ night! ]]

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FTEC, Friday (17/9)

Front Desk

Exam Rooms

OOC

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