(no subject)

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

So, Bernard is wearing his left arm in a rather ridiculous plaster cast tonight, sticking straight out from his body and held up by a pole. He told his friends it was the outcome of a faux pas he made while drunk, rather than explaining that it was from falling over an animated porcelain doll in this place that was trying to stab him with a spoon.

Perhaps this is why he seems to have been let off being resized. But at the moment, he is enjoying a bit of chain smoking, solely because he's about the only person in here today who's able to buy cigarettes.

Comments

[patterns_bloom]

Bernard and Alana wend their way through the bar to the infirmary, where Alana encourages Bernard to sit on one of the beds. She finds the scanner and runs it over his cast.

"Your arm isn't misaligned," she says, sighing.

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"Thank you." Bernard says, looking at the bizarre-looking scanner.

"I think it just winded me."

[patterns_bloom]

"I'm so sorry you were attacked by those boys," Alana says, frowning. "Maybe Bar can give you their names."

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"Good point." Bernard says. "Or I can leave a note to the 'brats' and it'll probably get there."

[patterns_bloom]

"Are you going to tell Security?" Alana says, raising her brows.

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"No." Bernard says. "I just want the hip flask back."

He can't do time for giving the kids cigarettes. He can't go that long without a drink.

[patterns_bloom]

"I hope you get the hip flask back, then," Alana says, shaking her head. "Bar can give you some painkillers."

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

He nods, slightly relieved that she didn't press it.

"Thanks Alana."