Theresa "Tess" Servopoulos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dog_eat_dog) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2013-08-27 12:45 am
dog_eat_dog) wrote in paradisalogs2013-08-27 12:45 am
Entry tags:
Second Shot
Who: Tess and Jennifer
What: Tess needs medical attention and doesn't trust to ask strangers unless she's got leverage over them.
When: August 26th
Where: City
Rating: PG-13 for hostage-taking, guns and medical squeamishness?
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Tess didn't work like that, generally. She was a smuggler –– she made connections, she arranged the movement of contraband, she talked her way in and out of situations, and she made sure that her work went unimpeded. While it did involve the need to put bullets in a few brains every once in a while, Tess did not do "flashy." Her unrepentant confidence was as close as it got.
What she was choosing to do was already way too flashy for her, but she was going to do what she needed to if it means protecting her life. Joel and Ellie were covered –– fuck, she couldn't even begin to process Joel and Ellie right then. Right then, it had to be all about her. It had to be about not dying. It had to be about not becoming a monster. It had to be about getting the answers that others couldn't give her.
It was about very desperate times.
She crammed a few necessary weapons into her bag and adjusted the way her handgun sat in the waistband of her pants, flipping the bottom of her shirt over it. As she tromped out of her room, it almost pained her to leave marks all over the pristine floor from her wet, dirty boots and jeans. There was nothing beautiful left in their world, after all, but it couldn't be helped now.
The whole time, her neck was throbbing. Tess couldn't tell if it was worse because it was spreading or worse because she had the time to contemplate it too much. Even so, it made her pick up her pace, racing to find the nearest clinic. She missed the one in the castle, of course –– who went looking for a clinic in a mansion? –– and found one in town.
And there she pushed the door open, striding right in. Next to all these well-fed city folk, she felt like a black sheep with her slight frame, her lean muscle and the near-endless string of bruises, scratches and marks up her arms and face.
Her eyes locked on Jennifer's from across the room, exhausted but sharp. There was a slight twitch to her jaw, almost nervous, but her hands never trembled, not even once, even when a few eyes seemed to catch the red swell of infection peeking out over her shirt collar.
"I need to be seen immediately," she said, "And don't give me any shit about waiting in line."
What: Tess needs medical attention and doesn't trust to ask strangers unless she's got leverage over them.
When: August 26th
Where: City
Rating: PG-13 for hostage-taking, guns and medical squeamishness?
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Tess didn't work like that, generally. She was a smuggler –– she made connections, she arranged the movement of contraband, she talked her way in and out of situations, and she made sure that her work went unimpeded. While it did involve the need to put bullets in a few brains every once in a while, Tess did not do "flashy." Her unrepentant confidence was as close as it got.
What she was choosing to do was already way too flashy for her, but she was going to do what she needed to if it means protecting her life. Joel and Ellie were covered –– fuck, she couldn't even begin to process Joel and Ellie right then. Right then, it had to be all about her. It had to be about not dying. It had to be about not becoming a monster. It had to be about getting the answers that others couldn't give her.
It was about very desperate times.
She crammed a few necessary weapons into her bag and adjusted the way her handgun sat in the waistband of her pants, flipping the bottom of her shirt over it. As she tromped out of her room, it almost pained her to leave marks all over the pristine floor from her wet, dirty boots and jeans. There was nothing beautiful left in their world, after all, but it couldn't be helped now.
The whole time, her neck was throbbing. Tess couldn't tell if it was worse because it was spreading or worse because she had the time to contemplate it too much. Even so, it made her pick up her pace, racing to find the nearest clinic. She missed the one in the castle, of course –– who went looking for a clinic in a mansion? –– and found one in town.
And there she pushed the door open, striding right in. Next to all these well-fed city folk, she felt like a black sheep with her slight frame, her lean muscle and the near-endless string of bruises, scratches and marks up her arms and face.
Her eyes locked on Jennifer's from across the room, exhausted but sharp. There was a slight twitch to her jaw, almost nervous, but her hands never trembled, not even once, even when a few eyes seemed to catch the red swell of infection peeking out over her shirt collar.
"I need to be seen immediately," she said, "And don't give me any shit about waiting in line."
no subject
There was no way to be sure she was doing everything right. He figured his best plan would be to give her no reason to be on anything other than on her best game. Shoving a gun up against her back to make a point would just make any "accident" look more legitimate. He moved aside, giving her plenty of room to work, but he stayed in Tess' line of sight by the chair and sent a worried frown in her direction when things started up.
"I'm not goin' anywhere," Joel told Tess, while she was still awake, in a tone that was almost soft underneath a shitload of carefully controlled anxiety. And then, said to himself and possibly low enough to be unheard by anyone else: "I gotcha."
He then raised his voice to an audible level and spoke directly to the doctor, finally. Their best chance was to be as business-like as she was being, so his next reminder was phrased as if it was the simple truth of the matter and nothing else.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you twice that her life is your own. You already got that message loud and clear."
no subject
She held her gaze on Joel a moment longer, until it was too much and she needed to withdraw into herself and focus on herself. Almost mechanically, she boosted herself up onto the exam table, scooting midway down and busying herself with stripping off her undershirt entirely. No point in leaving it in the way or to get mucked up, though Tess imagined she'd just replace the damn thing if she made it through this. The bra could stay; it was so threadbare that it would probably come off with a tug, anyway.
(And, just to make a point, instead of discarding it on the floor with her purple denim shirt, she whipped the undershirt at Joel to catch. Asshole. You hang onto it.)
"Better not," she muttered, laying down and bracing herself.
Goodnight, Tess.
no subject
Jennifer was breathing hard through her nose. Being addressed directly and spoken to like a person didn't help her mood much; things could still go way wrong, if she did anything they didn't like, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
"I was chief of surgery of a scientific expedition back home. I've taken care of dozens of wounds like this."
That probably meant nothing to them, but Jennifer went to work anyway without further comment, placing her tray of tools and an empty pan nearby, expert hands cutting away the skin, moving into that place at the back of her mind that allowed her to fully concentrate on her work. Now, more than ever, she was thankful that she was able to achieve that state of mind. It had saved her sanity and steadied her hand many times, especially during her first major crisis, when Elizabeth had been so gravely wounded.
It seemed to be no time at all before she was threading a needle, stitching the wound, and finally finishing it up with a heavy bandage and dose of antifungal on the rest of the awful, angry red skin.
"There. It's done."