|Iris Lark||Looking for some peace and quiet, Iris stands in the open air of the hangar, her head tilted up to catch some sunlight before the clouds move in. She pulls her cowboy hat from her bag, stuffs it on her head and sighs. "I cannot wait to go home." She mutters quietly.|
|Nemo||Walking through the Hangars, Nemo whistles to himself as he studies the vertibirds one by one. "Beautiful, just beautiful," the middle-aged man said, dripping blood on the hangar floor as he walks around, a roofing shingle wrapped around his forearm, packed with dirt and sand. He scratches at his makeshift bandage, spotting Iris and approaching, tone casual, "Hey, are you Ms. Lark? I was told to find you..." He gives her a casual once over, then remembers to tip his imaginary hat towards her.|
|Iris Lark||Iris turns, spotting Nemo and the blood and she frowns slightly at the blood. "I ..am Iris Lark. I imagine eyou were told to find me because you're injured?" Without waiting for him to answer she walks closer and starts to work at his bandage, trying to show the wound. "Have a seat." She murmurs, distracted, but close enough that she can move with him if he takes a seat on a bench. "So what happened here?"|
|Nemo||Nemo plops into a seat, wincing faintly. As the shingle is unbound and bloody dirt scraped away, deep and jagged lacerations can be seen running down his forearm, blood beginning to trickle out. "Well," he starts, drawing a breath and slightly clearing his whiskey fog, "I was cleaning out some of the tunnels below, when a handful of nasty little mole rats came over the trash blockade." His green eyes move between his arm and Iris, bloodshot but focused, "I got a little scratched up by some of the, put 'em down and then..." He shrugs, casually, "Well, I was gonna get help, but I was late to meet this woman who had some moonshine for me. And you know, pain killin', that's a big part of medical treatment, right there, so I went ahead and took care of that part of the job for ya."|
|Iris Lark||Iris doesn't look particularly worried at the sight of the wounds, and she listens to his story as she works to clean the wound with some alcohol diluted with water. "Mmm I see, well, you'll need stitches here." She pulls some treated catgut from a container inside her rucksack and prepares a needle. Without any preamble she leans in and begins to sew the wound, delicate small stitches are the result as the slender red-head works. "You'll probably need some more pain killers before all is said and done, let me know, I've some as well."
She finishes the wound with an application of anti bacterial salve before she bandages it and then looks up at him with a smile. "Feel better?" She asks, her head tilted slightly to the side as she waits for his response.
|Nemo||Nemo lifts his arm and flexes his hand, studying the stitches and then Iris curiously, "Haha, you're a miracle worker, Doc. Can I call ya Doc? I'mma call ya Doc." He holds out his other hand for her to shake, "My name's Nemo. I'm one of the greasy bastards keepin' the motorpool runnin'."|
|Iris Lark||Iris flushes at the word miracle, someone might have hit a rough spot on her but she manages a smile for Nemo as she begins to clear up the supplies she used. She takes his hand, gives it a firm shake, and then nods at his description of himself. "Nice to meet you Nemo, but you should call me Iris. I'm not..technically a doctor, more of..a Healer?" Her cheeks flush pink as she finishes with her clean up. "It's nice to meet you."|
|Nemo||Nemo chuckles, sniffing at that salve on his arm curiously. "I don' think the Fort a' Doctors are come and rough ya up for it, but as ya please. Iris is much nicer anyhow." He rises to his feet, watching her clear up the supplies, "How much do I owe ya, Iris?" He slips a hand into his belt-pack made of couch cushion upholstery tied to his belt, dark brows lifted in curiousity, green eyes on her.|
|Iris Lark||"I wouldn't charge here, in the midst of all of this." Iris responds, and she grins at Nemo and his joke. "How did you come to be in the Alamo, or..are you from here?" Her eyes move briefly to his belt pack before she smiles back up at him. "Save your caps, I'm sure you'll need them in the future.."|
|Nemo||At this question, the boisterous Nemo actually seems to shrink a bit, glancing down bashfully, "I'm from El Dorado, ma'am, Shantytown, actually." He hooks his thumbs on his belt, smiling at Iris, those bloodshot eyes squinting off to the side briefly, then back to her, "You know ah... Mavis? Noodle-maker and whore? Or ol' man Qwillis? I do some odd jobs for him."
He glances down again, his turn for color to find his cheeks, "I don' get out much, but this... this horde? It's bigger than me. Weren't a question about helpin' or not helpin', I just came with a couple of my mechanic budies, to lend what arms we could." He glances to her table, then back to her face, voice lowering an octave as he trails off self-consciously, "'bout them chems...?"
|Iris Lark||"I know them both, very well actually." Iris responds, her arms folding loosely over her chest as she smiles at Nemo. "I used to run the Clinic that Beastlord Achilles built." She takes a few steps back and moves towards the hangar. "Uhm, I have.. I have a..I have something to do. Can we talk later?"|
|Nemo||Nemo nods quickly, not looking surprise, "Yeah, I know the one, on... on account it's the only one an' all. You don't know you're--" He pauses, as she takes a few steps back, "Ah, alright, thanks again!" He lifts up his newly stictched arm, smiling brightly.
As she leaves, he sighs and peeks into his completely empty belt bag, brow wrinkling. "No moonshine, no chems...." He shakes his head, turning back to the vertibirds.