5511/Steam burns

From Heroes Assemble MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Steam burns
Date of Scene: 09 March 2021
Location: Medical Lab
Synopsis: No description
Cast of Characters: Julio Richter, Bobby Drake, Scott Summers

Julio Richter has posed:
Bobby was all but unconscious when Julio got him back to the mansion and into the X-men's subbasement medical center. The ice elemental might have been stable and resting, but the team leadership decided it would be best to keep him overnight for monitoring. (Once they found him a spare pair of X-uniform leggings, that is. There are limits to the extent of justifiable monitoring.)

As for Julio himself, there was absolutely no question of him leaving, no matter how amped up on adrenaline he was. The hellfire burns on his body and especially his face and hands were extensive, so he was sedated and stripped to his shorts for treatment. In addition to that, a number of faculty and students with healing powers have applied their talents to bringing him back to some semblance of his normal self. It's still going to take a while to grow back a good bit of his hair, which has now been buzzed, and a decent chunk of one eyebrow is missing.

Bobby Drake has posed:
The thing about being mostly indestructible is that it doesn't mean you are indefatigable. The last time Bobby had to reconstitute himself, he was out cold for forty eight hours or therabouts. It was such a long interval that there was some serious worry that the Ice elemental might have incurred some hard-to-detect damage... but no, he just needed one of the oldest home remedies on Earth: Longest Nap Ever.

This time, it's only been one night. Bobby has gotten a much greater handle of his powers since then, of course, and he is no longer wet behind the ears. So to speak. His body has grown more accustomed to wielding his formidable powers.

A soft groan is the first sound Bobby makes, and then he slowly opens his eye, not quite yet daring to move, coughing slightly at how dry his throat feels. Vague recollections of what happened last... muddled. As the ceiling comes into focus, his scratchy voice mutters "...medbay... huh..."

Julio Richter has posed:
Bobby will find that he has been hooked up to an IV as a precaution against any meals he might miss. That nail-biter of a two-day coma looms large in the memories of everyone who was here to fret through it. Across the room, a younger student with neat rows of braids finishes bathing Julio's left hand in a rippling golden light, then turns when she hears Bobby groaning. She gives him a wave and a gap-toothed grin, then nudges Julio's shoulder -- kind of hard, actually -- and skips out of the room.

Now Julio is groaning, blearily rubbing at his bare shoulder with a hand wrapped in gauze, and blinking up at the ceiling. He turns to see who prodded him, but she's already gone, and he flops back onto his starchy pillow with a grunt. After a second, he says woozily, "Bobby, was she trying to tell me you're awake? If so, next time she should use her words."

Bobby Drake has posed:
5r"I think she's going for the subtle approach," Bobby mutters, but loud enough to be audible. He notices the IV, and the fact that he has leggings now, which to his mind is preferable to those flimsy medical gowns with the air-cooled tuckus. He slowly begins to sit up, and groans a little. "Oof... I swear even the ends of my split ends ache. I haven't felt like this since that time I tried to beat Logan's record in the training room." He didn't beat it, of course, but it definitely beat him.

Blearily, he blinks a couple of times and tries to focus on Julio, and then he frowns when he sees the burns, and the buzzed hair. "How much pain are you in?" he asks, obviously concerned.

Julio Richter has posed:
"So, so much pain. I think that little girl was the Hulk's daughter or something," Julio answers, still rubbing his shoulder with a discomfited pout. His eyes focus, with a little effort, and he sees that Bobby isn't kidding around, so he adds, "Not much anymore. They got me on some, uh..."

He reaches up to tap his own IV bag with a fingernail. It's not just dextrose solution, but a drip of a midlevel painkiller. "Some stuff. And they've had everyone from Josh to Chris to some weird old guy who smelled like trash in here to stare at my nipples and lay on hands. If I get any more healing I won't have a... uh... un ombligo?" He pushes himself up on one elbow, and dips a finger into his belly button. "This thing. What's it called."

Then he scratches at his belly, idly, and wrinkles his nose at Bobby. "How much pain are //you// in? I seriously thought I had gotten you killed for a second there." He cants his head toward his IV drip and adds, "I think I'd still be freaking out about it, if not for this stuff."

Bobby Drake has posed:
"Bellybutton. Silliest name." Bobby blinks a couple of times and touches his arm, his shoulder, his thigh... "Not really in any pain. Just sore. Which happened the last time I did this, so I'm not surprised. I guess I got off lightly..." Outside of the fact that he got vaporized. But that didn't take, so there's no reason to make a fuss about that, right?

"Julio... I told you before, you can't really hurt me when I'm icy. I thought the Homestar quote was a hint that I was planning to come back."

He glances at his IV. He leans forward and unhooks it from its holder and, with pained, achey steps he carries it with him over to Julio. "I'm sorry I worried you," he says quietly. Up closer, he can see the areas that are being treated, and he frowns. Then he adds, "... good news is you're going to get to choose a new 'do."

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio peers up at Bobby with a blank expression. "¿Qué mierda es Home Starrunner?" he asks, giving the name entirely the wrong cadence. "Someone from one of the bad Star Wars movies?" He looks down at his stomach, wobbles slightly, and sets down the other elbow to stabilize himself. "It's not a button. It's like a pit or a cave. That is a pretty silly name."

Then, heedless of the dangers of trying to balance on a single arm, he reaches up again to take Bobby by the upper arm and squeeze it weakly. "Hey. Hey! You did not get off lightly. You got //vaporized//, heladito." It's been a long time since Bobby has heard that particular pet name. Then again, Ric is on drugs at the moment. "It was so, so stupid of me to get you involved in this. It is really not your problem."

Where he was burned, Julio's normally bronze skin is either starkly pale or a shiny pink or red, depending on how the healing is coming along. Fortunately, thanks to Illyana and her portals, he got to the healers fast enough that there probably won't be permanent scarring. His stubble is completely gone, though: his face got hit pretty badly, and the skin there is mostly fresh-grown.

Still, heedless on the painkiller, he lets go of Bobby's arm and brushes a hand back through the short, dark bristles of his hair. "It feels so weird. Here, look..." He tries to move too quickly, loses his balance, and flops down onto the pillow. After a second of surprise, he laughs, catches Bobby by the wrist, and puts the other man's hand into his hair. "Here, feel it. Weird, right?"

Bobby Drake has posed:
Bobby chuckles and runs his hand through Julio's buzzed head, "Well, now you and Kurt can share the 'peach fuzz' nickname. Not that I've ever touched Kurt, but I imagine that's probably what it feels like. But what is this nonsense of you not bringing me in? You're telling me something like this props up again, you're not going to ask 'heladito' for help? I've got a problem with that, Rock N' Roll."

He glances at Julio, his fingertips stroking Julio's scalp where it is safe to do so, instead of following the impulse to touch his face and cause him pain.

""Don't say that again. It's not that easy to get rid of an accountant. I think I've proven it, no?"

Scott Summers has posed:
Scott had heard about Julio being down in medical through Shan shortly after he'd gotten back to the mansion and brought down to the base level. Once he'd finished his workout, showered, and changed, the field leader for the X-Men made his way down in a dark blue t-shirt, unbuttoned sweater, and blue jeans. Hair still drying with a pair of red lensed glasses resting directly against the bridge of his nose as he slipped in almost as quietly as a breeze through an open field.

To stand near the entrance with his arms crossed watching the pair of them. "How are you doing?" He suddenly breaks his silence, whether either of them was aware he'd arrived. But he doesn't move closer. Small talk and chit chat have never really been the strongest weapons in his social arsenal.

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio laughs as Bobby rubs the short bristles of his new buzz cut. "That feels kinda cool, actually," he says. Then, after a chagrined sigh, "I bet it looks really stupid, though."

Reluctantly, he pushes Bobby's arm away so that he can continue in a more somber tone, "I'm serious, Bobby. I don't need to be dragging you into this stuff. It's ugly." He takes a long breath, then allows his tone to soften as he continues, "Thank you for your help, verdad, but even if they can't hurt you physically, they can get to you other ways. Remember Daniel?" He taps the side of his head. "He's still in here. I can't be having something like that happen to you."

He looks over to the door as Scott speaks up, and waves from his hospital bed. "I'm healing," he answers. "Just a little bit loopy from the painkillers." He leaves it to Bobby to give his own status report, but does add, "Scott, tell Bobby he shouldn't go on magic missions and get his soul sucked out. He won't listen to me."

Bobby Drake has posed:
"You can't do that to me, Julio. You want me to worry about what you're facing and not giving me a chance to be by your side. While already letting me know you're involved in some pretty serious stuff. That's not-"

Scott's interjection stops Bobby in his tracks. He turns to look at the other X-Man and he clears his throat. "Hey Scott. He's doing better. I'm just sore. You know- like last time. No biggie."

He glances sideways at Julio, frown still on his brow.

Scott Summers has posed:
Scott turns just enough to make it clear he's looking at Bobby as he crosses the short distance to where the pair are. There's a clipped nod shared with Julio and the silghtest incline of his brow over his red tinted glasses for Bobby, "If you insist on going on missions where magic is involved, it would behove you to take Illyana with you. I can understand your concern-" And he does, even if indirectly, "-but that's no excuse to put yourself into a position for which you're unprepapred." Always so pointed and serious. Not so much stuffy, as legitimately viewing things logistically. "I have a lot of faith in your abilities, Bobby, but magic is above most of our paygrade."

With that said, he looks to the beds biometric screen, taps a few buttons, and brings up a full medical on Julio. Reading it with the same stoicism as if he were reading the ingrediants for warm apple pie. From behind him, back out in the hallway, a tiny little creature appears. Sniffing the ground as he finally finds his person trying to hide amongst all the shiny instruments! The furball, for it is the smallest and cutest of fuzzies, pads regally towards Scott's feet and sits down. Licking a paw as he assumes a kingly posture, and brushing it over one ear.

This is Scruffles.


Julio Richter has posed:
Julio holds up a hand, pressing his palm toward Bobby in a little bouncing motion. "It's sweet that you want to protect me, seriously," he says, "but I mean, I've got Illyana."

He points at Scott with a little nod. "And she's not the only one. I know this guy, Doctor Strange, who's like a major wizard. You met Jac. There's an Asgardian, Amora, who's been teaching me some tricks, and a vampire hunter, and an elf, and" -- despite his addled state, he rolls his eyes and his voice drips with annoyance -- "even this sort of tramp who smells terrible and mostly just makes you want to strangle him, but I have my own defenses, too."

He sketches a complex little gesture above his chest. A dart of green light rises from his sternum, then blossoms into a an outline of a disc about a meter in diameter above his bed. Though invisible except for the bright traces around it, the shield has a physical presence, and might even bump Bobby and Scott aside if they're standing too close. It certainly knocks Julio's IV cart about a foot away from him, rocking perilously on its wheels.

"Hijo de puta," Julio grunts in embarrassment, dismissing the construct as quickly as it appeared. "Uh. That can-- it's not for, like. Pushing carts. It's a ward." His stammering delivery is not exactly helping his case. "The point is I'm more worried about protecting you than needing protection." He grits his teeth in a grimace, knowing he's about to say something that might hurt to hear. "I kind of lost my shit when I thought you were dead. How do you think I got all burnt?"

Scott will see from the medical scan and reports that Julio is stable and taking well to the healing, but his fresh skin is going to be tender and extremely sensitive for a while yet. For his part, Julio is less interested in healing than the ball of floof that has suddenly entered. "Uhhhh. Is that a cat, or, like. Someone shapeshifted?" he asks.

Bobby Drake has posed:
Bobby exhales a little, and concedes. "Scooter, has anyone told you that you have the annoying tendency of being reasonable when provoked?" It's obviously meant in jest, not in anger. "It all makes sense, which is why it's frustrating. The fact we don't have more mystically-inclined people is a bit of a weakness, and I've been worried about that ever since..." he glances at Julio.

There's protective instincts, and then there's the fact that Julio is an adult who can make his own decisions, however hot-headed he may be at times. Bobby's expression finishes caving in when Julio reveals the reason for how badly he got burned up. He silently evaluates the damage with a concerned expression, and then he finally finds his tongue again. "Ah... yeah. I kinda see that." It was like those corny stories- they were from different worlds in more ways than one. He was numbers and math, Julio was magic and things that didn't entirely make sense. And the invitation into that particular world has been, if not completely recanted, eenhanced with a large number of restrictions.

There's a thing Bobby does that Jean knows all too well- whenever something's gotten to him or hurt him, he adopts this affable, friendly and casual expression, like nothing is bothering him at all. Like they're discussing strategy for the school ball game, or something. That's the demeanor that clicks in, as Bobby says "Like Scott said, though, you should work with Illyana along with your other contacts. And you should keep us updated. If you have to run off to look for the Holy Grail or... whatever, you should tell someone on the team so we know what's going on."

He glances down at the cat, "Hey Kitty. Not /that/ Kitty."

Scott Summers has posed:
"Once." Scott says in response to Bobby's observations of being annoyingly reasonable when provked. He realizes, almost at the same time, that he's walked into the middle of a whole thing. Eyes rolling up to look between the two, safely hidden behind his glasses, and then back down at the screen giving him up to date medical information on the patient laying in the bed before him. "He's right, Julio." Freshly dried bangs hanging across his face as he reads, "If you are to ask him to trust that you can take care of yourself, you must be prepared to accept that he'll be worried about you regardless, and there to communicate with him that you're safe. Communication, like with any mission, is critical."

Casual. Super casual.

Like Scruffles, who only gives a crap when someone pays him direct attention. moaw. He says in tiny kitty voice.

"That's Scruffles." Still very casual. There are few times in life that Scott Summers, one of the most serious individuals on the planet, might say such a thing. That he does so with a straight face, as if this is absolutely normal and not at all a thing that anyone should be even remotely excited about, is just him. "He's my partner."

He doesn't even grin.

This man has a poker face.

"We solve crimes together."

Scott actually does have a sense of humor. Because he's absolutely joking, but the secret to his humor is the stoic manner with which he can deliver such a punchline. "We've nearly solved the mystery of the sunbeam, but he's still stumped by the case of the literally anything that moves in my room."


"That's an interesting defense mechanism." Effortlessly changing the subject with a point at Julio's chest. Or, more specifically, how it moved the IV pole. "Impressive. I know Illyana was going to place wards on the Mansion. Is it safe to assume you will be assisting with that?"

Julio Richter has posed:
"Hey, listen, Bobby," Julio says, speaking with a conciliatory tone. "How's this: if you want, I can take you on low-key investigations sometimes, like what I meant to do in the first place. Same goes for you, Scott, or whoever else is interested. And of course I'm always happy to talk to you guys, or whoever else, about what's going on in that part of my life. If I'm going into the lion's den" -- he lifts one hand and gives it a wobble -- "that's probably a different story, but I'm not trying to shut people out. I mean..." He sweeps both hands down past his bare chest, indicating all the patches of healing skin, and says with a sudden, incongruous snort of laughter, "God knows I need the help."

The ongoing introduction of Scruffles only gets Julio laughing more, especially with the general good vibes from those painkillers they're going to wean him off of disappointingly soon. When Scott finally gets to the truly unsolvable case, he fully loses it for a good few seconds, then leans to the side and peers over the edge of the bed at the cat again. "Strictly speaking," he says, raising one index finger, "you could still be talking about a shapeshifter." The he gives another snort of laughter and drops back onto the bed.

But there's another question yet to answer, and he gives a slow, thoughtful nod. "Yeah, Illyana has been my main teacher, and she did say something about putting up defenses for the school. I'm all about land magic, so I can do some pretty neat stuff to protect the area, with her help. Not just your basic spell shields and stuff, either. I can make walls that will keep out, like, //ghosts//, even." He's so proud of himself that it takes him a moment to put something important together.

Did Scott Summers just give him... relationship advice?? He suddenly sits up straighter in bed, points at Bobby, then points at himself, shaking his head. "Oh! We're not-- I mean, we WERE, but we're not. Um. A thing? Anymore. Uh. Boyfriends, that is. We're just..." Julio turns to look directly at Bobby, questions in his eyes. "We're..." he trails off, giving Bobby a chance to finish his sentence. You know, like not boyfriends do.

Bobby Drake has posed:
"We're up very late," Bobby Drake comes to the rescue. "And Julio needs more rest."

Things were not as they had been, and he has to remind himself that whatever may pass between them, that was a closed chapter. He needs to get out more and meet new people- staying in the halls of the school wasn't helping him move on, while Julio seemed to have no trouble doing that.

Time to get your crap together, Drake. "But sure, go ahead and tap me for that other kind of investigation. I'll be glad to help and be kept in the loop. Anyways..." Bobby looks at the IV, and proceeds to take it off with a wince. He's done this before. Quite a few times, so he's an old hat at removing, patching, cleaning, and all those things without making a mess. Putting the pouch back ono the holder, he says "I'll let you to your rest and I'm going to go to my room, take a shower and sleep some more. I imagine you're in good hands with Scott And Scruffles - P.I."

With a totally casual smirk he heads out of the med bay. He stops briefly to scritch the cat between the ears, though. That's what cats are for.