milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Are you quite all right?" comes a concerned voice from overhead. The sight of Elda can be a little disconcerting to some people, so perhaps his vision problems are for the better.

"Not really," Parker says. He glances up and then back down. Ok. He's either moved on to the hallucination portion of his injuries or he's back in the bar.

Parker breathes out and in, says, "I hit my head." And his stomach and his ribs and he's not sure about that elbow.

"Oh, dear." Elda looks around for anyone who is more qualified than she is. Coming up short of doctors and wizards, she sighs.

"Fiddlesticks. Well, sitting on the floor won't be too good for that, I shouldn't think. Come on and see if we can get you to a couch, at least."

Parker takes a deep breath and sits up. Right then. Couch. Wall first. He likes walls.

Bracing himself, he slowly starts to move up, hand braced against the wall. The great thing about being stubborn, he's found is that most of the time, it gets him what he wants.

Elda walks carefully next to him. If he falls, she is at least softer than the floor.

"Here, grab hold of me and we'll get to the couch. Who was silly enough to put it all the way over here, hm?" The chatter is part subconscious and part an attempt to relax, born from nursemaiding younger siblings.

She extends one clawed front foot to him, like a human would to shake hands.

Parker listens, it feels good to focus on what someone else is saying. He's breathing and not thinking. There's a rush of blood to his head and he takes her claw greatfully.

It feels strange, but it's something else to focus on.

"Thanks," he says, feet careful in front of him, slow progress and the couch seems too far away at every step until it's there in front of him and he can say, "Ohthankgod" and collapse onto it.

She bends down to look at his eyes, and search for whatever lumps his head may have.

"How long ago did you hit your head? Are you hurt anywhere else? Is it- I should stop rushing and let you answer me, yes. Just those questions for now, those are the important ones."

"Um." Parker tries to think. "Fourty five minutes ago? An hour? I kind of."

He pauses, thinks about chosing careful lies that make it sound like something more benign. Doesn't.

"I got beaten up, so I kind of hurt all over now."

Elda firmly clamps down on whatever dithering she'd like to do and tries to rid herself of the impulse with a quick shake. It sends a few feathers flying, but apparently settles her.

"Do you have any problems with magic, sir? No allergies, curses, or spelled items?"

"Ummm. One time a magician scared me as a kid," Parker said. "Couldn't stand top hats after that show. Does that help?"

Parker's experience with magic is limited.

Parker gets a sympathetic look. The poor man must be very confused.

"Then I'm going to try something that should help."

Elda can't help but make a little flicking gesture with one claw, ducking her head slightly as she casts a spell.

A wave of warmth and energy washes over him, the worst of the bruises shrinking, lesser ones vanishing. The pounding in his head fades slightly as the swelling goes down. Serious injuries would be unaffected, but he can talk and walk, so surely he'll be all right soon?

She tilts her head at him. "Is that better?"

Parker blinks and looks around, says, "Woah."

Doesn't shake his head, but it feels much better. "Thank you."

From across the bar, bright eyes take in the sight of Parker and the griffin.

You don't have to be a shark to smell blood in the water.

Therefore, in less time than it takes to tell about it, a fairy is sitting on the couch, glancing intently between Parker and Elda.

"Well."

Soft.

"Someone has seen a better day or three."