3139/Questionable Medicine

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Questionable Medicine
Date of Scene: 28 August 2020
Location: Claire Temple's Apartment, Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis: Claire patches the Question back together. He has lots of questions for her, to little surprise.
Cast of Characters: Claire Temple, Vic Sage




Claire Temple has posed:
While Claire wouldn't say she stays up most nights waiting for someone to roll in her door bleeding, there's a reason she moved to the graveyard shift, not even starting work until 4 am. The Night Nurse -- that's what they started calling her on the street. The woman who doesn't ask many questions, has a few too many medical supplies, and has saved the lives of more than one protector of Hell's Kitchen.

Tonight, she's only half awake, staring at the old television around 1 am but mostly dozing, to the point she's not noticed the programming has switched over to some awful infomercial. She never gets enough sleep. She's not in her scrubs yet, hours until she has to go to work, so it's just a comfortable pair of sweat pants and a tank top against the summer heat. There's no air conditioning in a building like this. She's just about to slip into a deeper sleep cycle when a sound from outside grabs her. Eyes shoot open. Probably time to work.

Vic Sage has posed:
It hasn't been The Question's night. While no stranger to pain there is only so much the human body can take, and tonight he has found that limit. Barely conscious somehow The Question manages to make it to the building of this 'Night Nurse' he has heard rumor of. He climbs the fire escape, leaving behind a trail of crimson drops as it drips from the no soaked through shirt covering his chest. He stumbles, foot slipping from the rung of the ladder as he climbs causing an audible clang in the night, startling a cat who yowls its displeasure before running off down the alley. A few more steps and the faceless man collapses on the balcony, just outside the window that leads to the Nurse's 'office'.

Claire Temple has posed:
The initial climbing caught her first attention, pulling her out of that half asleep. Claire listens for a few moments, trying to figure out if the noise is window or hallway. It doesn't take long for her to realize window. She swears quietly and pushes her tired frame up off the couch. This is a practiced dance at this point. She tosses the pillows off the couch onto a side chair and pulls out a fresh hospital sheet from the closet, tossing it across the old couch to at least make a somewhat clean surface.

She then runs over to the window, moving faster as she hears a body collapsing. "...Hello?... Shit." She stares down at the figure. Not one she knows. But they certainly know her. Leaning down, her wiry body shifts forward to try and move an arm beneath his shoulders. "Come on... gotta make it a few more feet."

Vic Sage has posed:
A groan escapes the Question, not really coherent words but a grunt of understanding. With effort the vigilante finds his footing with difficulty and manages to drag himself to his feet, using both Claire and the wall for extra support. He make it inside through the threshold and stumble-walks the few feet to the couch, flopping face down onto the fabric covered sofa with another grunt before the muscles in his body relax as he looses consciousness.

Claire Temple has posed:
The work she does is fast, efficient, and messy. At this point, she's stopped begging the various heroes of the streets to actually bother with a hospital. Doubly so when she realizes she can't even take his mask off. She has no time to mess with it. She begins to quickly cut his clothing off, tossing it all in a biohazard pile at the side of the couch, before she cleans her hands and pulls on gloves. Then each of the wounds starts being cleaned and inspected, QuikClot bandages put on two of them messily so she can work on the others, especially the one that seems to be bleeding the most. She'll try to get a clamp in him if she needs, but she's still not technically a surgeon, "...You're a mess, buddy..." SHe mutters beneath her breath.

Vic Sage has posed:
Sometime during the efforts, The Question regains consciousness, but remains still to the point where it's possible Claire doesn't even notice until he speaks.

"I've had worse..." says a raspy voice from somewhere behind the faceless mask. "Not much worse, but worse. I survived."

Claire Temple has posed:
While she may have had a suspicion, Claire didn't have time to start asking the faceless man questions while she was trying to keep his blood on his inside. So, she continues to work, expert hands careful not to contaminate the wound any more, changing gloves the moment she touches an outside surface and before she finally goes to the stitching. That certainly hurts, she can't exactly afford keeping a local anesthetic on hand.

She blinks at his voice, but doesn't look down to that strange face again, trying to finish patching the wound. "Yes, well... there's a first time for everything, and I'd like that first time to not be on my couch." She mutters to him, trying not to sound as unnerved as she feels by that face.

Vic Sage has posed:
The faceless man doesn't flinch as the needle starts to thread through his skin. The only sound behind the mas is a quick intake of breath followed by its slow exhale, almost as if in meditation.

The sewing completed, The Question turns his faceless visage towards Claire and mutters, "So, doc, what is the prognosis? Am I going to live?" The deep tone of his voice having a hint of a chuckle behind it. "Is this a take two aspirin and never call me again type of thing, or is there a follow up visit? Where do I make an appointment? Who is the receptionist, and most importantly how much does it cost?"

Claire Temple has posed:
His spill of questions gets a longer, slightly more wary look from her as she reaches for another antibacterial wipe, cleaning the stitched wound one last time before she presses zome guaze gently over it and tapes it into place. Claire then sits back, evaluating his body for other injures that she might have missed on initial inspection. "Uh...You should, as long as it didn't hit any major nerves, don't think we hit arteries... Keep it clean. Sign of a fever? Go straight to the hospital, I don't have smuggled antibiotics... and... it's... Don't worry about the cost. I'm not exactly legal doing this."

Vic Sage has posed:
"Well it's not like I carry a wallet on me anyway. It would sort of defeat the purpose of this whole incognito persona if I just had my drivers license in my back pocket," jokes the Question as he makes a move to sit up. There are other superficial cuts and bruises on his body, but nothing that looks all that severe. Just painful.

"I'd heard about you. Glad to hear the rumors were true. I /had/ planed on watching you for a while, see what your game is. Guess that cat is out of the bag now isn't it?"

Claire Temple has posed:
Those few other cuts got her attention. Though they weren't bad, they could be infected too. So, Clare grabbed a few other antispetic wipes and began to clean them out, without request or asking permission, before securing a bit of ointment and bandaids over them. She might as well finish the job. She might not be a surgeon, but her hands are clinical and quick.

"Heard... about me. Well, that's not all that... Comfortable. This isn't a game and...I frankly wish people would stop treating it that way. These are their lives. Yours included." She looked intensely uncomfortable at the thought word had gotten around the streets about her, but she knew it was true.

Vic Sage has posed:
Vic Sage says, "I wouldn't worry to much," says the masked vigilante, "It is my job to hear things. I don't know how far your reputation has preceded you, but it /is/ out there, Ms. Temple. I would suspect that you will likely get more visits from 'people in my game', unless you take steps to prevent it. If you do continue to work as a nurse to those of us that work in the night, then maybe a place of operation that isn't your living room might be more prudent? Eventually someone is going to follow a blood trail here.""

Claire Temple has posed:
Those words drive her quiet for a few heartbeats. She finishes applying the last band aid and then just smoothly gets up, exhausted body cutting through the air out of pure habit now, knowing her apartment with her eyes shut if she needed. Muscles were too tired to do anything but the automatic dance. Biohazards bagged, including gloves. Then a scrub of her hands. Finally, she's back in her living room.

"Yeah, well, much like most of you don't have money for health insurance, I certainly don't have money or a medical license to open a charity clinic. So, we're all going to have to deal with it." She states flatly, sinking down into the chair perpendicular to him.

Vic Sage has posed:
The Question hrms, his head moving down to look at his unclothed body before looking back up to Claire, "That is a bold assumption, Ms. Temple. I actually have excellent health insurance. I just can't exactly wander into the hospital with stab wounds and get treated with no questions asked. That being said, perhaps you should start up a 'donation' fund, someplace where someone might be able to donate to your cause anonymously. And don't think 'go fund me', or anything like that. That would leave a digital trail. I mean more like a coffee can set outside the window."

The Question slips off the couch, standing and moving his limbs to get a feel for his range of motion, "It is something to consider at least. You can't steal supplies forever."

Claire Temple has posed:
"...So... this might be rude as hell but all things considered, why can't I remove your mask? Did you have it...surgically implanted, or something?" Claire asks, out of seeming no where, but it's easier to put forward another hard question than actually consider his words. Words she's probably thought of a dozen times before and just doesn't have the heart to actually complete.

She then realizes that she did cut much of his clothing off. Safer than sorry, but now he was half naked. She forces herself up again, knees and hips popping in protest, as she moves over to the spare closet and pulls out an old sweat shirt. "Here. It's not stylish but....it'll keep you covered."

Vic Sage has posed:
Vic Sage chuckles, "Mask?" he utters dead serious, "It's not a mask, I just got a very close shave." A beat. "Ok, no, it is not surgically implanted on my face. How would I eat? Without giving away to much there is a way to take it off for sure. Don't be offended if I don't share it. Maybe on the second date."

The Question takes the sweatshirt and places it over his head, a hint of a grunt as he has to maneuver around tight stiches that pull as he moves. "Thank you."

Claire Temple has posed:
"Ach... Gentle... here." Claire reaches for him just as he's on the edge of stretching a bit too far against those stitches, helping him on with that sweat shirt, even if it brings her quite into his personal space again. She smells like feminine sweat, antiseptic, and the soap from her kitchen, now. It's like every inch of her is this job. It probably is.

"...Alright. Well, that's... that's the best I can do for you. If you want, you're welcome to crash on the couch, so I can give everything a look over in the morning and maybe get a bit of food into you. It'd probably be safer, you're still down a lot of blood..."

Vic Sage has posed:
The Question stands there for a moment, weighing his options before he lets out a sigh and starts to look around. "I don't know if that is the best option but I am not sure I have much choice at the moment." The Question sighs, taking a seat on the couch again, and giving a bit of a grunt as he gets himself into a horizontal position. "I'll be out of your hair soon."

Claire Temple has posed:
"It...it's fine. I'd rather know you're not going to pass out on the streets and haven't developed a fever over night." Dark eyes flicker back to the clock on her wall, a bone deep exhausted sigh escaping her lips. "I should...try and get 4 hours sleep. So should you. I'll wake you up before I leave for shift tomorrow." She leans over, grabbing the spare pillow and blanket from the little storage bench near the door.

She brings them back, offering a bit more gentle than before. "Get...get some rest. If you need me. I'll be right in there." She motions to the bedroom door before giving him one last look. Content that he seems stable enough, she turns on the ball of her foot and moves for her bedroom. Sleep will eventually come.

Vic Sage has posed:
The Question watches her go, a low 'hrm' escaping from under the mask as he takes the pillow and places it under his head, letting himself relax as much as he can on the couch before he lets the exhaustion take over.