milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[oom: Has he learned? Maybe a few things. Warnings for violence and vague sexual references]

Johnny stumbles into the bar, uniform covered in blood. Mostly not his blood, but there's what looks suspiciously like a crossbow bolt sticking into the side of his leg.

He blinks a little, pretty glad to see where he is, then goes to the bar and asks for a bottle of brandy, a spoon and some cloth.

He takes a swig of the brandy, puts the spoon between he teeth and the cloth under where the bolt is caught in the outer layers of skin and fat, then feels down the leg to check it hasn't penetrated anywhere that's pulsing.

He then grips hold of the bolt firmly.

If left to his own devices, he will rely on his basic instincts regarding first aid, and since the wound hasn't ruptured anything vital, will probably be able to cope. He'll try hard not to be rude to anyone who gives him a hand though, which is definitely a sign of appreciation.

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"Fuck," it starts, and then a lot more Italian, and Jack never swears but if Johnny doesn't let go right now he's going to keep going.

"Off! Get off, there is a perfectly good infirmary and you will just do more damage!" He clutches his hands, and stays far enough back, because that's a lot of blood.

He looks up.

"Jack, I've never seen a doctor in my life, it's just a flesh wound."

All the same, he does look a bit on the pale side.

"You're bleeding," he remarks, and corrects that, "you're hurt, gracious, at least let me, your hands cannot be steady."

They aren't, they're shivering, not just at Jack's touch. He puts the spoon back between his teeth and nods.

"Quickly." he says through the gritted teeth, holding the cloth ready.

He takes the shaft- God there's a lot of blood- and onetwothreeout.

A lot of blood.

He grits his teeth and doesn't even yell, but bites hard on the spoon and clasps the cloth to the wound. He gasps, the spoon dropping to the floor.

"If you're going to be sick Jack don't do it on me." he says through gritted teeth, the colour slowly draining from his face.

"I do not get sick at the sight of blood," through gritted teeth, taking the cloth from him and waves a rat over to order dressing.

He can feel old things burning behind his eyes, blood spilled on snow and death at midwinter and he almost brings redstained fingers to his lips but Johnny doesn't need that right now.

Johnny lets off a string of curses in Borogavian.

"Probably just as well. Lads think I'm going soft." he says, still getting paler by the minute.

"Idiot," he whispers, and rests his forehead on Johnny's knee for a moment.

The bandages arrive, and he looks at them helplessly, he's terrible at this. But he does set to work, wrapping it up, keeping pressure on it.

Cliff's coming downstairs from the room he'd taken while Bound. He
spots the two men, comes over to them quickly. "I'm a doctor. Here, let me have a look at that?" to Johnny.

(

[ooc: Not at all unwanted dear :), much appreciated. If you could slot in after Jack that would be great]

Johnny glances up, his face pale.

"It's just a flesh wound." he says, but he's not sure if he can keep being stubborn on this.

"Yes please" says Jack, moving away, looking pale.

"Do not listen to him, fix it."

Cliff gives Johnny a Look, and takes the spot where Jack had been standing. "Right," peeling the bandage away gently to take a closer look before he reapplies pressure. "Flesh wound or not, it needs cleaning out and possibly stitches. Sir, can you walk if your friend helps?" to Johnny. "The infirmary's right over there."

"Yes, I already ran half a mile on it before I pulled the bolt out." Johnny says gruffly.

"You want to sew me?" he adds, getting to his feet. He's looking a little unsteady though and the blood is rapidly seeping through that cloth.

"Sit still," says Jack, getting an arm around him and holding on tight.

"And yes, it closes the cut faster and properly."

Cliff nods, "I've done it a few thousand times before. It works, and
will let that leg heal cleanly." He watches Johnny for signs of shock, too.

"Fine, do what you like." he says weakly.

"And sooner rather than later." he adds, blinking back the small grey dots that threaten to invade his vision, "Because I'm a big guy and I want to lie down as soon as possible, preferably with a beer and a smoke but I expect you don't approve of those."

"Alcohol thins the blood," he gets informed, and Jack is acutely aware that he's big, because Jack is not and Johnny is heavy.

"Right. Here we go, Infirmary's thataway," Cliff supports him from the other side. "Lying down'll be fine. As for beer, after you're patched up."

He hates being held up, particularly in public, so makes relatively speedy progress, considering the bolt and all.

He sits on the nearest bed, frowning slightly at all the weird looking boxes around him. With glowing words and wires and weird stuff.

He's never seen anything like it and for a moment, doesn't know what to say.

"Name's Corporal Johnny Private." he adds. "I heard you people write stuff down."

If Cliff looks at the medical record on the computer he will discover that Johnny does in fact have a record, one entry, detailing a time he pretended to collapse and stop breathing to get what he wanted.
The record will also flag up a warning message.
Patient took a swing at me last time, handle with caution. Also request from former next of kin Betty Manackle - does not want to see him if he is injured and requests it. - Guppy.

Cliff's poker face could win him big money. He shows no reaction at the name, just helps Johnny to lie down and goes to get suturing supplies. "Doctor Cliff Huxtable," he introduces himself politely.

He checks the record, in fact, and nods. He'd handle with caution in any event, he'd assumed that the man was a fighter or soldier, with that injury and the attitude.

He sets out the needed items, and prepares to get to work.

Though managing a sort of grunted response, Johnny looks extremely uncomfortable, eying the tools with almost more distaste than his injury.

He is however also keeping an eye on Jack, making sure he's not wibbling or fainting over there.

He looks back, largely unaware that the tips of two fingers have made it into his mouth after all, eyes half-lidded and face full of secrets. Dazed.

Cliff is saying nothing re: Jack and tasting. Nope. Busy doc=not staring at them. He peels off the dressing on Johnny's leg, and cleans it with an antiseptic. "I'm going to give you something for pain before we get started, all right?" being decked isn't his idea of fun.

Johnny's mun likes Cliff, so the doctor shouldn't be too worried.

"It's not that chloroform stuff is it?" he asks warily. Then noticing Jack.

"Oi, Nippy, cut that out you weirdo. You don't know where I've been."

An eye roll. "You might want to keep an eye on him too, he's funny around blood."

"No." Cliff gets a local anesthetic. "This'll just stop your leg from hurting, it won't knock you out. Okay, please hold still."

"It is not that simple," he says hotly, dropping his hand.

"And even I know that is not chloroform."

He edges back, eying the needle.

"You're going to stop my leg hurting by sticking a great big metal thing in it? Are you insane?"

"Sit still."

He doesn't come closer, though.

"He is a doctor."

"Don't tell me a big guy like you is afraid of needles. It's the medicine inside it that'll help." Cliff sounds stern. "Unless you want to be sewed up without it."

"Yeah, well the worse you get the more doctors get paid." Johnny says to Jack, still edging away from the needle. He'll fall off the bed if he keeps doing that.

"Not like witches that get paid when you get better."

"And how can there be medicine in it, it's a piece of metal? No blacksmith could make a hole so small."

"I'm not getting paid for this," Cliff points out. "And, Corporal?
in his best imitation of a U.S. Navy drill sergeant.

"I will pay him if it gets to be too much."

He moves closer.

"You might not understand, but please, he knows better than to hurt you. I would not allow it."

Johnny looks from one to the other and makes a noise of exasperation.

"Oh do what you want, but if he kills me off it's your fault." he says, pointing to Jack.

Cliff should be warned that Johnny is likely to lash out when the needle goes in.

[ooc: and fun as this thread is, I really do have to go to bed if I'm to get up in seven and a bit hours to drag myself to lectures, sorry. Slowtime with Cliff next, then Jack, then Johnny, keeping that order?]

"So noted," Cliff says with a straight face. He swabs a spot on Johnny's leg with alcohol, then, "This is going to feel like a sharp
sting for a moment. Do not move."

He's ready to duck. Nervous patients rarely remember him teling them that, for some reason.
He gives the injection without further chitchat.

He doesn't move, then yells and flicks what would have been a back of fist swipe at Cliff if it hadn't smacked into a lamp instead. By the fact that the lamp only wobbles, it wouldn't have been a full-on strike if it had hit him, more a 'get off' type objection from a man who doesn't fully understand what's going on.

"Oi! That hurt, I told you sticking a piece of metal in me wouldn't make the pain go away."

"It pinches there, but now the pain-killer is inside your skin, and it will all be blessed-numb very quickly." Jack knows something about this. "Give it a few seconds. There will be no pain left."

Cliff gets the needle out and discards it, waits those few seconds before he sets to work.

He watches, without protesting, half disgusted and half fascinated.

"Where's the maggots?"

"If you keep it clean there will be no maggots."

Jack hopes.

"No, the maggots the doctors use."

"No doctors I know," Cliff answers firmly. "No maggots, no leeches, no
earthworms or June beetles either," he'd come up with the last two due to looking after his kids at home.
He finishes the stitching and lays a clean gauze pad over it, with tape.

"What kind of doctor are you if you don't even use leeches?"

"I wish I knew how to do that."

He peers down at the gauze.

"That would probably make many things easier. And most doctors do not use leeches, this is much cleaner."

Cliff looks up and grins. "If the sight of blood doesn't distract you too much...Hit me up next time we're both in the bar and I'll show you, if you really want. Though bear in mind, a wound that needs stitching should still have a doctor check it at some point."

To Johnny, "These will need to stay in for seven days before they can be removed. I can do it, or any doctor here could. If it starts seeming more painful, or you notice it getting red or swollen around the stitches, come find one of us then. Understand?"

(Mun has to go, sadly. Be back tomorrow if needed)

Johnny nods. He's calmer now. He gets up and tests the leg carefully.

"Yeah, understood."

Beat.

"Thanks."

Limping slightly, he heads out of the infirmary, gets his beer and cigarette, then goes upstairs.

[ooc: Probably easier to fade here, thanks folks]

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