milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM:The clinic isn’t always just runny noses and sore throats.]

The door bangs open, and a doctor enters. She’s looking particularly murderous today, jaw clenched and lab coat flaring almost dramatically behind her as she strides her way blindly into the Bar, the abrupt change of surroundings not really registering until she nearly trips over one of the waitrats, who thankfully manages to dodge out of the way in the nick of time.

The waitrat gets a startled apology, and Thirteen settles in a seat whilst trying to reign in her righteous anger.

[Open 'till it falls off]

[The mun ~~has to flee for an hour and will reply to all tags when she returns.~~ is back!]

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Cuddy throws up her hands defensively, lowering her voice.

"I thought you'd want to be informed that social services has been called."

She deflates a bit, making a visible effort to reel in her anger at Cuddy's words. The younger doctor gives a nod.

"Good."

Cuddy pauses. There's a number of things she wants to say, but none of them actually make it out of her mouth.

"Thank you," she finally says.

A nod.

"It was the right thing to do."

"Well, some people wouldn't have called right away."

And she can name at least one limping doctor who falls into that category.

"If you heard the things that little boy told me, you'd be calling right away, too."

"I can imagine," she murmurs, placing her hands on her hips and sighing softly.

"They're interviewing him now."

Thirteen casts a glance back at the door.

"Is he doing alright with that? He was pretty reluctant to let me go."

"He's a little shaken up, understandably," she tells her.

"But he's being very brave. I think he just needed someone to talk to."

"Just call me Freud."

Beat.

"He's a cute kid, he'll probably get adopted quickly."

"There's hope for that," Cuddy admits, looking down at Thirteen's impassive expression.

"Are you alright?"

Thirteen nods, scrubbing a hand through her hair.

"Mostly."

She casts a glance around the Bar before continuing.

"It's probably best I got pulled in here, I was about to go find the kid's dad and pull a wookie."

"Pull a what?"

The modern slang is lost on Cuddy, and the slight generational gap because even more apparent, as does the realization that god, we slept together, which comes back in a rush of memory and sensation and nearly leaves Cuddy blushing.

She gives a small laugh, shaking her head.

"A wookie. Sorry, Kutner talked me into a Star Wars marathon the other night."

Beat.

"Essentially, I want to rip the guy's arms off and beat him with them."

Edited 2009-01-11 19:29 (UTC)

Star Wars. That she knows.

But she still doesn't quite get the reference, even though she understands the visual of... well, ripping the guy's limbs.

"Oh." She nods slowly, thoughtfully.

At least Thirteen's smiling. That's an improvement over the last five minutes.

Ah, if only Cuddy knew, she'd probably be in line to go wookie on the guy too.

"The mental image is suprisingly cathartic."

"I have no doubt."

It's cheering her up, and Cuddy doesn't need a sulking doctor. Milliways is a small blessing that way; it gives a person some much-needed time to cool off before going back to the world.

The smile dosen't last long and quickly Thirteen is looking distressed again, a hand running through her hair.

"The guy didn't just beat the kid..."

"... no."

She doesn't know the entire story, but talking to the social worker had given her enough details to form her own conclusion.

Thirteen doesn't say anything, instead, she lets out a long breath while scrubbing a hand tiredly across her face.

"Do you need anything?"

Concern always trumps awkwardness.

"No, I'll be alright."

She looks back towards the door.

"I suppose we should get back, I think I can restrain myself; I only feel like killing the guy a little bit now.

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