ROBCO EVENT LOG V2.66
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Stockton It's been a long damn day that apparently included running into a hell beast at the yawning hellmouth by Dunwich. He doesn't want to talk about it much when he found Sparrow, just sufficing to point at his hastily bandaged leg that looks rather torn up from the claws of something huge. So much for those jeans he got from her sister. They're fucked now. He shoulders his way into the clinic and goes to find a table because he knows what has to happen. Stockton sighs and drops trou so he can drop his ass on the medical bed and awaits the thorough stitch and bitch from Sparrow.
Sparrow That would, of course, require Sparrow to have had time to think for a minute. New patient? Sparrow's called in and she shows up from the Sherriff's office not a short time later. Eyes feverishly bright and dark circles udner her eyes. The nightmares wont shake, she's getting 'rest' but it's not great rest. Thankfully it's not effecte her steady hands recently after she started takig care of her head. Doesn't draw any less emotional energy from her though and therefore by the time she's called in to stitch up Stock? There's barely an ounce of bitch left to be had. She's saving it for something really special. "Clothes off." She demands the moment she gets through the door.
Stockton Stockton doesn't really have time to argue before the doc is in doc mode and demanding the sacrifice of his clthing. Muttering something under his breath he kicks off his shoes and peels off armor and shirt until all he's got left are some very cozy looking boxer briefs and a lot of bruises to cover him. "Good tah see you too," he chimes in with that telltale annoying gring of his. Now he's just being a pill on purpose.
Sparrow Sparrow looks up at him and grunts. Yes. Grunts. She takes off her hat and Duster, setting them in a chair before grabbing her medkit up and making her way over. She moves to look Stockton over and her brows knit lightly before nodding a bit and she starts to look him over. Cool fingertips gentle against rbuised skin. "What happened?" She asks for him to tell her while she treats him. Leg first. Iodine, needles and stitch floss as well as other fun and unpleasent items.
Stockton Stockton grunts right back, in the world of non-verbal communications Stock is a pro. The skin isn't just bruised, it's raised where the claw slashed his thigh open nearly socket to kneecap. Another grunt comes at the touch of fingertips doing their work. Iodine makes him grab the table and thrash a little, the stitches have him almost on the edge of a whimper as he stares at the ceiling while she works. "We went to Dunwich, checking on things. Heard screams of sacrificial villagers and went to check. Wasted a bunch of Raiders and then I shit you not a demond Deathclaw popped outta the ground and well...deadclaw," he looks at his leg.
Sparrow Sparrow gets out the bottle of ether and a rag and stuff them into his hands and grabs a piece of leather and waits for him to answer her before dropping it into his mouth. He can self medicate. She might still be cranky at him for abandoning her yesterday at the Sheriff's office. OMG the Drama! She nods as she works on getting wounds clean and the gashes stitched up one by one. Always steady hands and careful, but this many stitches? It's going to take a while, even if Sparrow's an expert.
Stockton Stockton hadn't meant to ditch her, but there was a call for people to help, and that's what Stockton does. She can be cranky though, the big guy deals with her tantrums well. The leather bit and the aether are both taken and the man is somewhere between limp and rigid while his eyes dilate and he chews down on leather hard. Easier to chew on that than her right now. When it's done he's giving a few tester flexes of the muscles under stitches and sighs some. "Feels better already, thank yah, darlin," he mumbles around the leather right before spitting it out into his palm.
Sparrow Sparrow nods to Stockton, "Stop movin' it's not done yet." She mutters at him. It's a lot of work, and then there's the burns to check out and everything else. Stock's going to be on the cot for a lot longer than he'd like to be. Sparrow continues to focus on her work though, careful about getting everything stitched and slaved and bandaged proeprly. "No riding." She mutters to him.
Stockton Stockton fusses right back at her with non-verbal noises that sound something like a growl and whine combined. The wild man isn't himself perhaps. The bandages go on, the stitches applied and the salves where they need to go. He gets beat up a lot in the line of duty and all. There's a balk though, "What'chu mean no riding?"
Sparrow Sparrow looks at his thigh and back to him, lifting a brow and giving hima serious expression. "You know what I mean. Technically I should tell you to stay in bed for a few days til the muscles knit. But for certain no ridin'. No fuckin' either. In fact nothing that isnt a nice mosey to somewhere within shoutin' distance. Understood?"
Stockton Stockton goes to say something to argue, but then he's just dropping his head back against the bed with a mutter along the lines of 'not a problem'. "Yer tellin' me tah die of boredom wit my leg up," he confirms that he knows what she's asking. Whether or not he complies is a different story.
Sparrow Sparrow nods, "Yup. Exactly. Please die of bordum with your leg up." She says dryly and sighs moving to get the big man's leg wrapped. "I'll go see your Ma about new clothes for you. Try not to wander through the City in these ones? See if maybe your Ma can mend'm up for you?" She looks at his clothes with a wrinkle of her nose. "Maybe."
Stockton Stockton grumbles and grouses like the premature old man he is. If he had a cane he'd be growling at kids to get off his lawn. Looking down at his fatigues and those handmedown jeans from Aidan and wrinkles his nose. "S'wrong wit my clothes?" he asks with a bit of a sour puss expression. "But I appreciate it," he finally says in gratitude for her helping him. Much as he grumbles. There's a reach for his torn up pants and he fishes some caps out for her, he doesn't ask he just sort of stuffs them into her pocket.
Sparrow Sparrow sighs at him, "You aint gotta pay me." Not that she wont take the money. Sparrows need cash too, but she shakes her head and moves to pull the blanket up over the big man. "Well aside from the fact that they're really more shred than cloth? Nothing." She gathers the clothing up and moves over, "Stay in bed. I'll be back in an hour or two. I'll bring food. Only use the ether if anythign throbs and do not pull out those stitches."
Stockton Stockton shakes his head, "Don't gotta, but I'm gonna," he shrugs and leaves the caps there while she blankets him up. There's a disgruntled sigh and he shifts uncomfortably already. The four walls were already closing in on the wild man and he just nods at her. "I'll be 'ere," he says in an attempt at humor.
Sparrow Sparrow smirks and moves over to open the window to let the breeze and sounds of the Wasteland at night in. She tilts her head at him and then moves out with the bundle of clothes, "Take some huffs off that rag and you'll fall asleep and I'll seem to be back in no time."
Stockton Stockton settles back down and sighs, staring at the ceiling was never his strong suit. And while the window being opened helps, the man wants nothing more than to be outside. The aether is hit, a bit hard and then he's out like a light. He might be groggy, but he'll likely be back up by the time she gets back. Maybe not.