fandom_clinic | Fandom Clinic, Friday

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Fandom Clinic, Friday

Cristina had spotted the clinic before, of course. The island wasn't that large, so it was kind of hard to miss. She'd made a giant point of not going in, though, because she was only here under duress and she would be leaving soon and going to Zurich, where she was meant to be.

But it was Friday, she'd been here most of a week, and if she didn't at least get to pull out a splinter, she was going to go nuts and do something rash. No really. She'd done it before.

It was a problem.

She was faintly horrified to find out that the clinic already had a photo ID and badge set up for her when she got there. There was even an office with her name on a plague outside of it.

"Right," she said, looking around at the empty beds and the nurses playing canasta. "This is definitely Hell."

[open!]

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Mitsutada had been summoned for a quick mission late last night, and instead of heading back to the Citadel afterwards, he'd decided to come back to Fandom, thinking his wounds not being too grave as to not be able to bandage himself.

Making a few steps towards hish house, he quickly realized that he had underestimated how beat up he was. So, he strode into the clinic looking vaguely like a male stripper who'd lost a bar brawl. He has come cuts that weren't bleeding too badly, but there was more than a few of them on his chest and stomach.

"Could I get some assistance, please?" he asked, politely.

"Yup! I got it! I got it." Cristina elbowed her way past the nurses, scowling at them. "He's mine."

God, she hadn't had to be this pushy since residency.

"Hello, sir," she said, pulling professionalism back over her like a blanket. "I'm Dr. Yang. If you'll just follow me to one of these beds, I can get you all fixed up."

It was probably just a bunch of stitches, which was boring, but maybe she'd luck out and one of those stomach or chest wounds had hit a vital organ.

"Thank you, Doctor Yang," Mitsutada said, grateful for the immediate attention. He followed her to where she was directing. "I don't think anything got me too deep, but some of the demon tanto were very quick last night."

He was just grateful that Tonbokiri had taken the big hits from the enemy yari.

Cristina sighed. "Why do I get the feeling you're not using hyperbole or slang."

Because this was Hell, that was why.

"Well, it looks like some of these definitely need stitches. Do you have any allergies I need to know about?"

"Not that I have encountered," Mitsutada said with a pained smile. "Also, yes, not hyperbole. But given that reaction I shall temper any other statements so as to not be entirely upsetting."

"You must be new to the island?"

Yes, just casually chatting while bleeding on his suit, don't mind him.

Cristina pulled out a blood pressure cuff and moved to fasten it around his arm. "Must be," she agreed. "Unfortunately. I'm going to take your blood pressure, make sure you haven't been bleeding too much. These weren't made by claws, were they?"

Since apparently the things with claws and teeth around here were hallucinogenic.

"Blades," Mitsutada clarified. "Tanto are short swords. Like daggers, really. I don't think they did more than slash, but it is possible in the battle I did not notice a proper stab."

He was a hearty fellow for his frame, but that came from not exactly being human.

"Adrenaline will do that," Cristina said. "I've seen people walk away from accidents, explosions, gun shots . . . all like it was no big deal until they finally started to relax." She finished setting up the blood pressure cuff and set her stethoscope in her ears to check the rest of his vitals. "You'll probably start to feel it soon. If you notice anything big, tell me."

"Hai," Mitsutada said with a nod. "I had thought I would be fine but I was mistaken," he added. His vitals were typical for someone in such distress - but not too bad.

"I was mainly just grateful for the chance to be sent on a mission, if I am honest. I got a little carried away."

"I know the type." She'd been married to the type. Hell, she was the type, if she got right down to it.

It wasn't a very healthy type, mentally.

"Well, your blood pressure's a little low, but that's not surprising. Drink some juice once I get you patched up and you should be fine. I'm going to start cleaning these out now. It might sting a little."

"I should be fine assuming you don't use miso-mustard," Mitsutada joked. "This is not the first time I've needed a few repairs."

He still tensed up just a bit in anticipation of the pain.

"'Needed repairs'," Cristina repeated. "That's not a bad way of thinking of it. Though -- please tell me no one's actually used mustard to clean your wounds before."

"It's an old folk tale," Mitsutada said. "A rabbit has sworn revenge on a tanuki for his terrible crimes, so she pretends to befriend the creature. Part of the revenge comes when she says she is going to treat his wounds with ointment but instead smears him with fermented spicy mustard, so he is instead further in agony."

". . . Oh." This was why Cristina didn't like folk tales. "That rabbit's a dick."

"The tanuki murdered a woman and tricked the widower into eating a stew made from her body," Mitsutada added.

That would probably not improve the 'not liking folk tales' bit.

"So they're both dicks," Cristina said. "Just because your patient's an awful person doesn't make it okay not to treat them properly."

Cristina had worked on plenty of assholes in her time, including a neo-nazi and a man on death row for murder. She knew what she was talking about.

"I appreciate your dedication to your profession, then," Mitsutada said, because he didn't really have strong feelings about the tale either way, it was just something he'd been thinking about recently.

"Not that I consider myself an awful person. I'm barely even a person, when it comes down to it."

Cristina looked up from where she was cleaning the scratch on his leg with a frown. "You have a heart beat. Blood pressure. Presumably brainwaves. You talk and you bleed. You're a person."

Mitsutada had a wry smile on his face. "I promised I wouldn't say anything too upsetting, but now I feel like a tease," he said.

"I'm not upset, I'm stating a fact." Cristina prepped a local anesthetic as she started on the deeper cuts. "Do you remember when you last had a tetanus shot?"

It was more that he wasn't going to elaborate on what he meant by 'barely a person'.

"One year ago," Mitsutada said. "Give or take a few weeks. It's part of the regular medical care back where I come from."

Cristina looked up and smiled. "Excellent. Not enough people keep up with their vaccinations. I'm giving you a local anesthetic now -- it'll only hurt for a moment. Do you know how to check your own wounds for infection?"

He seemed like he probably had some experience with that.

"I do," Mitsutada said with a nod. "I should not be in too much danger of that, though I will keep an eye out. Only the one, though."

Yes, he was cracking little jokes.

"What?" Cristina looked up from her stitches with a frown, then flashed him a wan smile. "Oh. Ha."

"Not a good joke," Mitsutada said, looking back at her with his golden eye. "But then again, you're the one having me in stitches."

Lord save her from patients who thought they were funny. "Sorry, sir. I've heard them all before."

"Mitsutada," he introduced himself, feeling she was definitely not in the mood for jokes. "My name is Mitsutada Shokudaikiri. I shall refrain from any more puns."

"You can make all the jokes you want, Mr. Shaudaikiri." She only hesitated a moment on that pronunciation. You got pretty used to all sorts of different names when you worked in an urban hospital for a good long while. "Just don't expect me to find you hilarious."

"True, and I should be grateful," Mitsutada said. "Laughing probably means the stitches would end up a little ragged."

"Bite your tongue," Cristina said idly. "My sutures are perfect."

They were, actually. She might not have gone into plastics, but she took proud in tiny, even stitches that would heal with the barest of scars. The goal was to make it look like you'd never been there at all, after all.

"Ah, yes, my apologies, I did not mean to insult your skill," Mitsutada said. "It was incredibly rude of me to make such a joke. Forgive me."

Cristina gave him a raised eyebrow at that. "Relax," she said. "I'm not actually that easily offended."

Ribbing and bragging was just part of her medical process.

"Still, it would be as if you were to walk into my kitchen and joke about my ability to cook. I let myself get carried away with the joke, and that is no way to behave. Mitsutada must be rubbing off on me."

Luckily he wasn't just digging random tiger pits.

Yet.

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Fandom Clinic, Friday

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