The Doctor is In

[Rowan St. John]

All she could say was thank god it was an off day.

The office was quiet and free of injured and sick students, save for the soft CLACK-CLACK of a red DS Lite. Volume on low, Rowan grinned as she smited yet another monster in the game. For days she'd been hankering for some free time to herself so she could advance another level-or in the case of Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days, another world-and it was only now that she could kick back and relax. There were other ways for her to relax, sure, but she was without a legal fuck buddy and playing her Harmonica just didn't seem like the thing to do right now.

So she played, biting her red lipsticked lips everytime a battle got a bit harder then expected or cursed when she died. She was leaning back in her swivel chair with her legs crossed at the ankles on her desk, revealing creamy skin and bare feet (she'd ditched her shiny patent leather heels over an hour ago) while her lab coat hung off the back of her chair. Long hair down from it's bun and hanging in ringlets around her shoulders, it was the most unprofessional she'd ever looked while working--even when she was on Active Duty.

"Bastard," she muttered when a particularly nasty Heartless snuck up and attacked her. Rowan licked her lips and proceeded to pound the hell out of it and hissed a "Yes!" when it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Yeah, she was a nerd, but she'd been that way since she was a kid, so everyone knew. Not like anyone was complaining about her hobby anyways since, A: it was legal and B: she also went down to the shooting range on her days off to practice. As far as anyone knew, she never missed.

[Blake Riina Kildal]

Well, the office was not totally devoid of students. There was a small, petite girl who had come in, not entirely happy, but was there nonetheless mostly because of a stark white bandage and sling that bound her right shoulder and arm, thus keeping it immobile. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, reaching somewhere around midback since she couldn't pull it back and boys were no good at that sort of thing.

An impatient hand reached up to brush the loose strands behind her ears, the blonde hair already falling out again. She cleared her throat, knocking her good hand against the door, watching the doctor with amused eyes. Blake was definitely a strange child, all things considered. The fight that had happened a few days prior, she felt was her fault, even though she did not really remember what had happened, but had enough to piece together.

She watched the doctor with cool blue eyes, refusing to give in to what she was thinking, her mind not entirely back together from what she'd been through with Ashton, and right now, it was incredibly easy to push her. She hardly cared at this point though, but leaving her alone was not an option. She'd get up and wander around to find people and just sit, not pushing herself. It seemed that morphine was not the best drug for her, especially since she was getting nightmares and starting to refuse to sleep, so now she was back to regular meds.

Her arm was not in too much pain, provided she didn't push it and right now she was reporting so the good doc could get a look at her shoulder, to make sure it was healing properly since Dis did do a number on it. It seemed she was the worse for wear from the whole fight, but not that she minded.

"You wanted to see me?"

[Rowan St. John]

The doctor's shoulders tensed before her wild blue gaze whirled around and landed on Blake, full of the kind of animalistic instinct only those who had seen untold horrors had. For several moments she just looked at the girl, heart pounding in her ear and mind racing, before she came back to her senses and relaxed. She paused the game and set it down.

"Yes I did," she nodded, voice calm and collected as if her small episode had never happened. Rowan got to her feet, not bothering with the shiny heels resting under her desk, and gestured the tny blonde take a seat on one of the cots. "I just wanted to change your bandages and check on your stitches; Ahkmet has been a real trooper keeping track of you, but there are some things only I can do." She made another gesture for her to remove the sling and her shirt; she'd learned from their last encounter and wouldn't touch her unless absolutely necessary.

Rowan set about gathering her pinlight and a few other necessities, setting them on a metal tray and wheeling it and a stool over and taking a seat. There would be no taking of vitals today (Dis was taking care of that for her) but the blonde wanted to make sure her other nerves were alright. She hadn't really gotten the chance last time they'd met because she'd fluctuated between unconcious and violent; besides that, she wouldn't be able to tell how bad the damge to the girl's shoulder really was unless she tested the nerves.

If they'd been in a real hospital, all this would have been easy. But since the school only recieved funds to house and cage the kids here, she would have to make due with what she had; thank god her time in the sandbox had prepared her for this.

[Blake Riina Kildal]

Blake blinked, watching the doctor with a calm gaze, but one that answered the wildness with her own set of insanity, one that a wild cat possessed that clearly said she would not feel bad for what she did, as she viewed it all in terms of self-preservation. The blonde relaxed slightly, pushing her hair behind her ear since she had enough trouble dressing and she wasn't about to ask someone else to pull her hair back for her.

Listening to the doctor's instructions, she nodded and set down on the cot, swiftly removing the sling and her shirt, not at all bothered by being partially naked or even fully naked. She blinked a few times as she set there, mostly undressed eyes sliding down to look at the stitches and the wound. It would most definitely scar, but she hardly cared. She still blamed herself for this entirely, and wouldn't listen to anyone else, but internalized everything. It was a slight worry, if you really knew her, that she would start becoming depressed, but she hadn't given any signs of it.

Then again, the girl was already on edge, mostly because her lawyer had told her that if she got in another fight, her sentence would be increased or she'd be pulled out and thrown in jail. Well, if she got caught in another fight, which was becoming harder since most people were upset with her for the fight itself, seeing as the teachers were starting to lock down on knives. That hardly bothered the girl, just don't be stupid like the little brat.

She blinked her attention back from her thoughts to the doctor, waiting patiently with all the severity the situation deserved. "When am I allowed to stop using the sling?" she asked, her voice still quiet.

She hated the sling. Blake really didn't like being restricted, it was hard to play the piano one-handed. Music was what calmed her down and right now, that was an option that was on hold for the moment, unless she listened to her iPod, but that could only hold her for so long.

She really just wanted to move again, or at least work on getting strength back in her arm, which was what her question meant.

[Rowan St. John]

Rowan frowned when she saw that the bandage to keep her clothes from sticking to the stitches had been removed and never replaced. Damn brat must have done it while Ahkmet wasn't looking. Her expression schooled itself as she set about examing it the twine used to sew the wound shut, not at all pleased with the slight puffy-redness around it; the rest of her cuts and bruises were healing just fine, but this one in particular was proving to be a little bastard. It would require more alcohol and antiseptic cream when they were done.

"Lift your arm for me please," she asked the girl and wheeled a few centimeters away so that she 'd have room. "Straight to the side. I need to see if there was any nerve damage."

She knew that she'd completely dodged Blake's question, but the only way to get an answer was to make sure everything worked okay. The girl was eager to get out of the sling? Then she'd have to take care of herself to make sure she didn't end up in here again with nerve damage. Wanted to get the stitches out? Make sure she kept it clean and sterilized so she didn't get staff. The last one always made her a bit antsy; she'd seen her fair share of staff overseas and the sight only got worse with every case.

Alot of things got worse if you left them to fester for long periods of time--physical wounds were just one of them.

Rowan blinked at the cumbersome hair hanging almost in Blake's face. "Would you like me to pull it back for you?" she asked, indicating it and showing a hair band she always kept on her wrist just in case.

[Blake Riina Kildal]

Blake watched her, blue eyes looking like mirrors as she followed the instructions, her arm moving deliberately. The stitches pulled slightly at the wound, seeing as it was healing now. The bandages had run out this morning and she hadn't bothered to do anything since she was seeing the doctor today, so bothering her early was not really something she wanted to do.

She frowned and glanced down at the stitches, still unhappy with what had happened and how weak her arm was getting, but that was what happened when someone was physically injured in a fight as bad as she was. Blake knew she had gotten lucky with the fight, Dis would have killed her or seriously injured her, more than what she had now. Still, she wasn't mad at him, she blamed herself for snapping, for not controlling herself.

The tiny girl knew how to take care of herself, she hadn't pushed herself, outside of coming out of the infirmary when she'd been left alone. That, perhaps, had been the smartest decision she had made. The drugs had been left alone and she was upset with herself and knew that her being alive was a waste, she had felt the urge so strongly that she should go to others. She had to find people, or else there would be an empty body to come back to.

She blinked her attention back to the doctor, watching her with slight amusement filling her eyes. "Ah, no. It's fine. I can manage with it," she said, tilting her head away from the doctor, watching her warily. Blake really wasn't a fan of most people touching her, unless she initiated the contact. She was unused to attention and all of this was making her uneasy and start to retreat, making her more and more self-conscious and wary.

[Rowan St. John]

"If you say so," she sighed and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. They grabbed the disinfectant cream and held it up for her to see, indicating that there was going to be some brief physical contact so that she could rub it in. "There's no nerve damage that I can tell-you've obviously done good by keeping it in the sling. Good girl."

The cap was twirled off the little container and she squeezed a liberal amount onto her palm, wheeling closer so that she could apply it. Even through the rubber she could tell how cold it was; she made a habit of keeping things like this chilled since the budget could only afford her so much. Thank god she often brought her own from home or her Army buddies were kind enough to send her extra. She started to apply it gently, a complete contrast to her usually harsh demeanor.

"So long as you keep it clean for the next few days and put disinfectant on it every morning and night, I see no reason why the stitches can't come out early; at least you're free of the sling now, right?" she asked while continuing to rub it in. Once she was done, she blew her fringe out of her face and capped it, holding it out to her. "You can have this until then. Come back in three days so I can see and maybe two or three more after that we'll pull them out. That is if all goes well anyway." She winked at her at that, feeling entirely too optimistic.

Rowan was always pleased when a student healed up well enough; too many times had she had kids come in, not do what she asked, and walk out of here with permanent damage. Often times they would blame her (you promised everything was going to be alright!-was the most common one), but really they knew where the blame really lay: they just wanted someone else to blame for their fucked up lives.