sharp_as_knives | Phoenix Place, Wednesday evening

Hannibal's throat was nearly healed, just a faint shadow of bruising and a very slight hoarseness left. He was feeling much better overall, thanks to friends who insisted upon doing whatever they could. His wrists were still a mess, but only time would heal that.

More importantly, his kitchen was nearly completed! After far too many false starts and reorders of things, all that was left was the center island counter, which was still bare wood. If he was careful and his knives were sharp (they always were), he could finally manage to cook again.

The dining room was still waiting on paneling, plants, and a table, but he wasn't too proud to eat elsewhere.

So he was sitting on the sofa with his plate on one of the end tables, eating and listening to some of the Rob Dougan that Jono had left for him. It wasn't a bad evening.

[OOC: Open post!]

Current Mood: Mostly Mellow
Current Location: Phoenix Place
Current Music: Rob Dougan

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

sharp_as_knives

"You might want to get a shorter cut," Hannibal advised. He carefully snipped away just enough to get to the cut, then went for another needle. "A local anesthetic," he explained. "How are you feeling?"

From:

gunslingerpose

"Not entirely like I need to puke," Nick decided. "I can probably handle sitting up for a few stitches, but that might be about my limit."

He was crashing far harder than he'd hoped. Apparently having a shoulder knocked out of joint and what might or might not be a concussion, on top of a shot of valium, was somehow too much for a guy.

Who would have thought?

From:

sharp_as_knives

Imagine that!

And yes, it was almost certainly a concussion.

Hannibal nodded and unwrapped a suture kit. "I'll try to finish quickly."

From:

gunslingerpose

Look, Nick liked to dream, here.

"Appreciate it, Doc."

He sat quietly for a few moments more, and then he grinned faintly, closing his eyes. He wasn't sure if that was the valium starting to kick in or just some sort of leftover adrenaline, but at least he had the good sense to keep himself from chuckling.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, morbidly amused. "What is my life, anyway?"

From:

sharp_as_knives

Yes, that was probably the valium. Hannibal tried not to be too amused himself. "Interesting and potentially dangerous," he answered. He took a careful stitch to the head wound. "What were you hit with?"

From:

gunslingerpose

"A brick," Nick answered easily, his tone pretty light, all things considered. "A fucking brick. And then I went down like a goddamn sack of the things, and the bastard started using his feet, instead."

So, yeah. He'd definitely found himself some trouble tonight.

From:

sharp_as_knives

"It sounds rather unpleasant," Hannibal noted. He took a few more stitches and tied it off, then came back around to the front. "How are you feeling now? Ready to get that coat off?"

From:

gunslingerpose

Nick considered for a moment, and then gave a small, kind of uncoordinated nod. Yes. Yes, that seemed like a pretty good plan.

"Yeah, I think so, Doc. It's not getting any better the longer I sit here, and I'm... well, not feeling no pain, but pretty damn well on the way there."

From:

sharp_as_knives

Hannibal nodded. "Let me move your arm; don't try to help," he instructed. "We want to keep further damage minimal if at all possible." He thought about it for a moment, assessed Nick's level of coherence, then leaned down to look him in the face. "Stay loose and don't move."

From:

gunslingerpose

"Don't move," Nick echoed, "stay loose. Pretty sure I can handle that."

Really, Nick could probably handle another kick to the shoulder, at this point. Whatever Hannibal wanted. Bring it.

From:

sharp_as_knives

Which was good, because what he was going to get probably wasn't going to be far off. But first, Hannibal gathered up the folds of the coat and pulled them as far over as he could without jostling Nick's bad arm, then kept one hand on his shoulder to feel the dislocation as he moved it just enough to pull it off.

The coat, not his arm.

From:

gunslingerpose

Nick appreciated that. He still had high hopes of using that arm again. Fighting crime with it. Lifting weights with it. Et cetera.

"Aaand off it - fff - goes."

Okay, maybe he wasn't quite feeling no pain.

From:

sharp_as_knives

Hannibal folded the coat over a nearby chair and turned back to Nick's shoulder, running his hands along it and pressing just enough to feel where the bones were. "I'm going to administer a local anesthetic and muscle relaxer; those should take care of most of the pain. You can let me know if you need more valium."

From:

gunslingerpose

"Oh, trust me, I will let you know," Nick said, as though there was any sort of doubt. Really, the verbal filter was starting to drift away, and mostly it was just leaving Nikolai happy and drowsy. Hurting, hell yes, but not terribly concerned about that either way. "Good night for valium. And anestha-an-ana- fuck, painkillers. Goddamn, words should not be this hard."

Concussion. Valium. Dislocated shoulder. Honestly, Nick. Honestly.

From:

sharp_as_knives

Hannibal chuckled as he gave Nick the next two injections. "Better for that than for getting beaten up," he prompted smoothly. "A kevlar vest doesn't protect you from a brick to the head."

From:

gunslingerpose

"Yeah, an' usually I have my helmet on, but it was too damn hot out tonight for that so I left it with my bike. Not makin' that mistake again."

Whoa there, Nick. Slow down, man.

From:

sharp_as_knives

"Your bike?" Hannibal frowned at him. "And how did you get here?"

He had a sinking feeling.

From:

gunslingerpose

Even with the valium, Nikolai at least had the good sense to look sheepish.

"I was doing plenty better than I am now," he attempted. "Anyway, couldn't go to one of the hospitals on the mainland. That'd end bad. Figured I'd, you know, I'd get to the clinic, only then there were gremlins."

A beat.

"Little green shitheads."

From:

sharp_as_knives

"Some of the hospitals on the mainland are quite competent, you know," Hannibal noted, half in exasperation and half fishing.

From:

gunslingerpose

"Too competent," Nick agreed. "That's the problem."

He reached his good arm up to straighten his shades on his face, partly just making sure that they were still there. Of course they were. Hannibal wasn't unconscious on the floor.

"Can't let myself be out of my own damn head at a mainland hospital. I'd leave worse off than I came in, they'd fucking... vivisect me or something. That'd be fun."

From:

sharp_as_knives

"Why on earth would they do that?" Hannibal feigned astonishment. He was certain there was something interesting going on here.

From:

gunslingerpose

All things considered, that was probably a pretty safe bet, yeah. Nick took stock of the look on Hannibal's face, and met it with a wry grin and a slow shake of his head.

"S'what they do, isn't it? You see it all the time in the goddamn movies. Something fucked-up and new comes around and the... the government gets all paranoid about it and the movie ends with the whole fucking army outside some hazmat area all because of some ugly little wrinkled thing that the kid made friends with..." A beat. "Only I'm not an alien. I don't think. I don't fucking know."

From:

sharp_as_knives

"One would think that would be the sort of thing you would know," Hannibal pointed out as he checked for the pulse in Nick's wrist.

From:

gunslingerpose

Nick huffed a bit of a chuckle at that.

"Yeah, yeah, you got me, Doc. Not an alien," he replied. "But shit, like I know anyway. It's fucked up enough that I'd rather not have it go on my official medical record off-island, you know? Better to get it looked at by Fandom people. People who see, like, guys with wings or who breathe fire or whatever the fuck else all the time. People on the mainland, they're not gonna get it. At best, I get hurt. At worst, someone else does."