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[gidge]

PICK YOUR POISON
PIC PROMPTS / TFLN / RANDOM SCENARIO
HAN SOLO velocities	BETTY MCRAE bombsheller	RIVER TAM subsulcus	RIVER TAM (AU) comprehender
SIMON TAM vest	BRIA THAREN exulted	NADINE CROSS bridaled	GU JUN-PYO toddler
available on special request: veronica sawyer, benjamin linus, imani, maria deluca, mushu, poseidon, niccolò machiavelli, malik al-sayf, chloe

Comments

[warranter]

It's slim pickings for decent doctors on Westerley, and slimmer since Pawter's death. But Killjoys gonna killjoy, which in this case means they've still got warrants to fill, and, if you're Dutch, wars to fight. That also means, inevitably, that she's going to get banged up along the way.

The first time they meet Simon Tam was, actually, years ago. Level 3 warrant, what was supposed to be a simple job for Dutch and Johnny, easy payout. It would've been easy, if not for some ex-Company creeps, a dose of illegal human experimentation, and a very nasty situation for the Tams. It wasn't easy, but they got things sorted -- completed their warrant, saw the Tams to safety, and parted on decent enough terms. Those terms got better the next time they ran into each other, a year or two after that, when Johnny had a nasty leg gash that needed real medical expertise.

Today, it's Dutch stopping in for the good doctor's help. There's blood soaking into her sleeve (hers), and a bruise blossoming along her temple, but she still offers a smile.

"Knock knock."

[vest]

The practice is meager compared to what he's used to. Just a few rooms to make up a medical suite, barely enough supplies, and a steady stream of patients that appreciate a lack of questions and a man who can keep his mouth shut. Simon had managed to acquire it nearly a year ago, thanks to Dutch's intervention (however badly that may have started), and it's been... Okay.

It isn't exactly what Simon would call an ideal situation. Not that ideal situations were anything he had access to anymore, but he is still painfully aware of what this one lacks. The pros of it all are easy: River is safe, he can work doing what he's always wanted to do, he is not (usually) getting shot at.

The cons aren't discussed in polite company.

When Dutch comes in, he's checking his inventory of supplies. And, miracle of miracles, starts to smile (genuine, because it's someone he considers tentatively as a good friend; because River will be delighted to know she's around), and then frowns deeply when he sees the blood.

"Can we assume," and he is motioning already for her to come in and sit down, "that we know the answer is 'Injured,' or do we have to go through with the whole joke?"

[warranter]

"We can skip the joke," she agrees, pulling off her jacket as she comes in.

Her jacket has seen better days, is going to need a cleaning, but there's blood on there that isn't hers, so. You know. That's something, maybe.

"Don't fuss," she warns him, sitting down, and despite her words there's a small smile tugging at her lips. "Had a warrant in the area, and some of the locals didn't take too kindly to us coming in to take some shit. I'm only here because John insisted."

[vest]

It's too late, he's already fussing, face serious as he looks over the wounds and his inventory work forgotten completely.

"You don't have to flatter me. I'm already treating you for free," he says, deadpan, as he looks over the wounds on her arm. Doctor mode may be activated, but the sass is a constantly running subroutine.

"What kind of weapon was it?"

[warranter]

"Sword," she says, sounding skeptical even as she says it. Then, "I know. They're real traditionalists, down in Eureka."

She stays still even as he does his fussing, at least, though she has a tolerant look on her face. She's humoring him, she feels, but at least doesn't say so.

"For some reason, they weren't big fans of a couple of Killjoys swooping in to collect some ancient relics. Much rather sell the old jewels on the black market instead."

[vest]

Simon frowns for a moment at her arm, at the blood, as if it has now personally offended him by virtue of being ridiculous.

"Well," he says, gently prodding the undamaged skin near the wound, "they weren't traditional enough to so something like poison the blade or use it well. How's your pain level? Do you want something while I work on it?"

Just like that, he's away from her side and going through cabinets, pulling out supplies as he plans a post-visit treatment regimen in his head. There should still be some antibiotics in the storage locker, and maybe enough of the gels to send her back with a container.

[warranter]

"Amateurs," she scoffs, tone light.

Just saying: she could definitely do better. It's not bragging if it's true, of course.

"Pain level's fine, just get on with it."

Which is what she always says, more or less. Khlyen's training left her with a high tolerance for pain, for one thing; Simon isn't exactly swimming in medicines for another. She can take it, which is good enough for her.

[vest]

For a moment, brief but there, he considers arguing the point. Insisting. But he's treated Dutch before, and he's already completed his inventory of his painkillers.

With a curt nod to himself, he makes his way back over to her side with a tray of supplies and starts his work. Cleaning, stitching, treating -- not the most complicated thing he's ever done, and he's done this particular medical song and dance on a seemingly endless loop since he started his work here. The movements are sure, he knows this by rote, but his mind wanders.

Silence, also, is weird. Though maybe that's just because it's Dutch, and not some anonymous patient of unknown moral standing that he'll never see again.

"We haven't seen any of you for a while. Have things been going well?"

[warranter]

They know this routine, both of them: Simon with his medicine, Dutch with being treated. She's a shit surgeon herself, much more frequently on the other end of things.

(Meaning: being examined. Also meaning: causing injuries, relative to taking them.)

Things have been going strange, if Dutch is being honest, ever since D'avin came into her life -- and back into Johnny's. It's one thing after another, between the things that were done to him in the military and Khlyen's reappearance, the mysteries of the RAC and Level 6 that have been dragging them in, the shitshow that's been the state of Old Town.

But Dutch wouldn't call herself honest, and Simon's got enough on his plate.

"Peachy keen," she says, light, tosses him a playful smile. "What about out here? Place like this, you can't be bored."

[vest]

'Peachy keen,' gets an unimpressed and skeptical look, but Simon doesn't press for more information. They've been out of contact for enough time that things either are going fine, or they're bad enough she doesn't want to talk about it.

He's dedicated his life to his sister, a girl who frequently doesn't want to talk about it. He knows the drill.

"Oh, you know," and where her tone had been light his is a little flat in its sarcasm, distracted, as his main focus remains on treating the wounds in front of him, "Never a dull moment in the exciting career of underground stitching services."

She walked in on him doing inventory for probably the tenth time that week. The adventure.