fandom_clinic | Fandom Clinic, Monday 3/17

Fandom Clinic, Monday 3/17

The nurses and Stabby were all wearing green today. Stabby's green was a ridiculous tiny hat but it still counted.

"He's gonna pinch you," a nurse warned Stark. "Don't get close."

"I have a green shirt!" Stark protested.

"You've met the crab. Do you really think wearing green will prevent pinching?"

Stark gave the tank a wide berth, hoped Stabby wouldn't leave said tank, and settled in at the desk.

The clinic was open. The crab was pinchy. The alien was in.

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"I'm afraid I couldn't answer that." Because 'it's fun' probably wasn't what she was looking for. "Is that how you lost your toes? Clown worshippers with poor taste in food?"

"They decided I'm 'the Adversary'," Quinn said. "Like I said. So stupid."

"Ah, congratulations!" Hannibal said, offering her a cheerful grin. "You'll have competition here, I'm afraid - we've got an actual Lucifer in one of the bars. And a number of us have been declared thoroughly evil by small-minded people; you'll fit right in."

He made a few more neat stitches and tied off that toe, moving to the next as the nurse handed it to him.

“That sounds like the worst after school club ever.” Quinn snickered. “Welcome to Adversary Club. For all your ‘people think I’m evil’ social needs.”

"We should start one," Hannibal said. "We have a dearth of after-school clubs. I'll be the faculty advisor. We can go on field trips. We'll make a list of places we're all hated in first, so we know not to go there."

"I'm not going to school," Quinn said.

She was mistaken, but she wouldn't figure that out for a while yet.

Hannibal made a noise that was the verbal equivalent of the shrug he couldn't do while stitching. "A community club then. Although the school is good, especially when I teach."

"Don't think I want to be a surgeon," Quinn said. "My dad did trauma medicine. It fucked him up."

Trauma medicine fucked up her mom, too, but not at all in the same way.

"It's known for burning out many," Hannibal said. "But the most medicine I've taught here is first aid. Generally, I teach cooking." He spared a glance up as he tightened a stitch. "Which does not involve embalming fluid."

Quinn snorted. "So what don't you do, then?"

"Anything in halves," Hannibal quipped. He tied off that toe. "What about you? What do you do when you aren't fighting homicidal clowns?"

Beat the shit out of asshole redditors.

Quinn vaguely remembered when that hadn't been the answer.

"I used to play volleyball."

"We have a gym here, and there's currently a sports class," Hannibal said. "I don't know if they do volleyball. You'll probably want to put in some cautious exercise as you recover, anyway. I'll give you a list once you're more likely to remember things."

"I exercise," she said.

She was built like a stick. She clearly hadn't been eating great in a while.

"Fighting is a kind of exercise, right?"

"It is," Hannibal agreed. "But a kind that you'll want to avoid if possible while you heal. Weights and calisthenics are safer."

A few more stitches.

"We're halfway there. Still no pain?"

“Noooo,” Quinn said. “Do I still have legs?”

"You should be in no danger of losing those, so long as you keep up with the antibiotics we'll give you," Hannibal said. "Thank this lovely nurse for the anesthesia."

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Quinn grumped. (But gave the nurse a lopsided smile of thanks.)

"While I'm the one with a needle in your toe, you'll do as I say," Hannibal declared, grinning. "Never antagonize your surgeon. Or in this case, you could leave with..." He tied the current suture off. "Four toes."

Quinn glared at him. She didn’t appreciate being threatened — and was loopy enough not to take it as the joke it was meant to be.

“. . . Still more than I’d’ve had otherwise.”

"Entirely true," Hannibal agreed. "But if you listen to me for a little while longer, you'll have five. Bilaterally symmetrical, assuming you also have five on the other foot. Do we need to check?"

“No,” Quinn said. “Nothing happened to that one.”

You know, other than the light scorching she’d gotten all over.

"Good to know." Hannibal hummed as he went through the delicate stitches on the last toe. "We should probably get you clean and make sure you have no other injuries that need tending, but I'll leave that to you and the nurse."

Look, he might be a cannibalistic murderer, but he drew the line at sexual harassment.

It was good to have standards.

Quinn groaned. “Cleeeean.”

When had her last shower happened? It felt like ages.

Hannibal chuckled. "It's amazing how good it sounds after a while, isn't it?"

"No bath or shower just yet," the nurse warned, "but don't worry, we'll get you clean. And a clean set of scrubs to wear."

Re: Exam 1

deathtofrendo - 2025-03-19 12:51 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Exam 1

sharp_man - 2025-03-19 14:35 (UTC) - Expand

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