Umbrella Surveillance System
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Buck Rogers "What's the problem tonight?" asks a bored receptionist at the emergency room front desk, popping a bubble gum behind the glass desk. Her English is accented, but Buck can understand it well enough. There's a few people lazing about reading magazines, dumped into chairs, waiting on others, and an ambulance can be heard in the distance.

"Need some stitches," Buck responds, clad in a fine, expensive suit with a few smatterings of blood. "Cut myself pretty bad doing some housework."

The receptionist stares, then nods. "Alright, fill this out, and we'll be right with you."

A short while later, Buck's been brought to a room and directed to sit on the bed. The pale linoleum of the floors reflects the light in such a way that he averts his eyes; the sterility of hospitals, the brightness, is not a pleasant sight. Still, he eases himself down on the bed, crumpling the covering beneath his muscular ass, making the whole thing groan from his extreme weight. His gaze lingers on an eye chart hung up on the wall in French.
Emma From the hall a mans voice can be heard, not far from the doorway of the room Buck is in. "Now you listen, Carrot Top, if I ev-ev-ev-----eeever have to stand here and kick your all so hard verbally that you won't sit for month, well you won't want to see what I will do next." There is the sound of the chart being grabbed. "Stitches, think you can handle that?

He form can be seen passing by the doorway. Next, and shortly after in comes Emma. Her hair is straight, this longer, and tied into a loose braid over her shoulder. With chart in hand she walks in and then looks up. "Oy h -- hello Buck, yer hurt?" Eyes move to the chart and then him. "Ya okay? stitches hm?"
Buck Rogers The aggressive voice compels Buck's heavy brow to furrow. His lips purse, nostrils flare, and he stares at the door hunched over-- one knee drawn to his barrel chest, arm wrapped around the leg, knuckles clenched white. He smells of sweat and sex and blood and alcohol, and from the way his muscles tense and the veins on the back of his hand pop out, there's an agitated energy contained within him-- an energy the belligerent man outside his door is arousing. Enter Emma, whose pretty face and gentle demeanor temporarily disarms the lurking malice, softening the brute -- only for it to reappear with a vengeance when he connects the dots and realizes she was the target of the verbal abuse. "Hey, sweetheart," he growls, scratching at his beard, elbow now propped on his knee. His injured leg hangs at the table's side-- his suit pants have been cut, and on his left thigh, near his crotch, is a splotch of dark blood staining the fabric, and an obvious knife wound. "I'm fine. Just need a bit'a needlework, some disinfectant. Had a bit of a scuffle." He taps his nose. "'tween you and me, stepped in to get a few bad men off an innocent maiden."
Emma To look upon Emma is to see a young tired lass. It's like she hasn't slept in ages, but is here. In fact it is her first day back and well, this is quite a thing to treat. Tired eyes look up to Buck, followed with a tired yet ever sweet smile. The scent isn't lost on her, but doesn't bother her either. "'ello, well, yer - yer in tha right place'ta get that worked on." Stepping forward eyes move to where the blood is. "I -- I see, gotta have yer pants taken off, I'll step out." That's when she grabs a blanket. "If ya - ya could lay down'n put this waist down, I'll get it tended to."
Buck Rogers Buck barks out a laugh like a wild dog at the poor little lass' mild embarrassment. "Don't you worry about a thing, baby girl," he comments, taking the blanket from her. "Already got my reward from the grateful damsel in distress. This is purely professional." That explains why he's flush and smells like booze and blood and a woman-- this all clearly happened within the last hour or two, and he hasn't changed his clothes or taken a shower yet. When Emma steps outside, Buck rises to his feet with a small huff. He steps on the heels of his shoes one by one and wiggles his feet out, silk socks sliding along the floor. His belt comes next, black leather, drawn out with a luxurious hiss. Pants a little slack now, he hooks his thumbs inside the band and tugs them down, sashaying back and forth until they're dropped.

The giant goes commando. He sits, hairy legs slick with blood and other fluids near the wound, and tugs off his socks. The blanket is wrapped around his waist, and he lays down upon the bed-- or tries to, given it is inadequate for his size. His torso hangs off the edges and his legs stretch well past the end. The blanket's a little small, too... but, to his credit, it's purely professional, like he said; the bulge beneath the blanket might be significant, but he's clearly not erect.
Emma Emma would have left Buck be, to get undressed and what not. Outside there is that angry doctor again - not at her, but he seems angry at something. When he is gone is when she returns to the room, with a small table sized tray of supplies. Looking his way there is a small blush, clearing of her throat and a professional level maintained. "I - I need'ta inspect'n clean tha wound." That's when she would go to lift the blanket, unbothered by whatever liquids of what have you. "So ya - ya got a reward for helpin' a lass out huh?"
Buck Rogers "Danger's got a way of rilin' a girl up," Buck replies, watching as Emma returns. The blush across her pretty face earns her a leering smirk and a flash of teeth. "You take a knife in her defense and send some hooligans running, well, who wouldn't be grateful?" He's staring at the doctor all the while, never looking away -- some part of him enjoys her nervousness, and takes amusement in her well-intentioned embarrassment. "Figured I should get it looked at, though. Never know what nastiness some drunk little prick's knife might have on it. So how's it look, beautiful?" The wound isn't especially severe... on Buck, that is. Simply due to his size and general constitution, what would have been a bad injury on a normal person seems rather minor on him. Sure, there's blood, and the wound needs stitching, but he should heal just fine.
Emma While there is a twinge of red across her cheeks, Emma does remain professional however, and cleans the wound easily. Looking up to him, there is a shy smile and look back down, her gloved hand reaches for the needle that'll numb the area. "I -- I guess, that's a way ta look at it." Flicking the needle so the air comes out eyes fix again on Buck. "This'll sting a lil, but tha stitchin' won't hurt once tha numbing sets in."
Buck Rogers Buck gives a limp-wristed flick of his hand in dismissive wave. "I'll live," he reassures her, apathetic to the thought of pain. "But thanks for the concern, sweetheart. You're gorgeous inside and out. This is a good job for you. You're good at it." He's smiling, and it's less feral than his expressions normally are-- his mouth doesn't open quite so wide, he's not looking up from a lowered brow, his eyes aren't narrow. "Folks won't always be nice to you, baby girl. Even if you're nice to them. But keep doing what you do best, and you'll eventually stop carin' when people yell at you." He laughs a little. "I have."
Emma Emma works steadily, she takes the needle, and goes to numb the area. Even if he doesn't feel the pain the lass still works as gently as possible. It's in her nature. Putting the needle to the side, checking over the cleaned wound for onr more assessment the curve needle is then threaded.

The way he mentions people being nice makes her frown some, and shrug. "Life -- life likes ta kick ya sometimes." Maybe that is why she looks so tired. That is also when she goes to stitch the wound up. "Sometimes, tryin' ta be yerself is hard. But -- but, I'd not wanna be anyone else either." She nods to him while pausing briefly. "Good ya accept yerself."
Buck Rogers Buck feels the pain, certainly; as the needle and thread move through his injured skin, there's a mild wince, but he suppresses any sound. He's a stoic, that Buck, a tough guy who won't complain about something as unmanly as pain -- besides, the numbing agent does an awful lot to diminish any injurious sensation, and the wince fades when he realizes the pain is gone, too. "The trick's to kick life's ass even harder," he insists, reaching out with one of those long, heavy arms to give the redhead's red head a pet. "You've been through a lot, sweetheart. You and your little brother, that James kid-- a whole lot of shit. But you're doing alright. So keep your eyes up." A pause, a shrug. "Or don't, hell. You're cute when you're all shy and demure."
Emma Emma is nearing the end of her stitching, and quickly makes good work of tieing off the thread. Snipping off the ends, some bandages and dressing is grabbed when he pats her head. Looking up to him, that tiredness seems to echo from her soul, but, she does blush a little more now, and look down shyly. "Th -- thank ya." Stammers the lass a bit, flattered some, after all what woman doesn't take a compliment?

With dressing and bandage on, there is a small thoughtful pause. "Ya - ya know, I'm tryin', tryin' with all I got. An' I got people 'round me wantin' ta help, but all I feel is 'lone, stumblin' up that mountian." Cheeks go more red, she doesn't open so easily. "But I'll- I'll make it, did before can this."
Buck Rogers "Yeah, you'll make it," Buck agrees, resting that huge hand atop her head. He stirs a little beneath that blanket, hardens, and the contact might have his thoughts veering a little unprofessional--but he can be a class act sometimes, that chainsaw-swinging maniac. He neither acknowledges it nor calls attention to it. "That kid's crazy about you," he remarks, knowing full well it's not her little brother. "But you can tell from how he moves, how he talks, that haunted, beat-down-dog look he's got-- he's got too many issues for a girl like you. I saw his type on the force all the time. He's gonna snap, baby girl, and you don't want to be there when it happens. You'll try too hard to fix him and fuck yourself up." He withdraws his hand and props himself up on his elbows, staring down the length of his muscular torso at her. "A person's not a person if they can't be alone sometimes. That's what makes us strong--but hell, pretty girl like you, being soft and weak's a privilege. A man shouldn't let a pretty girl frown, makes her age faster." A grin. "I'm no therapist, baby girl, but you stumble around me, I'll smack your ass, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you off over that mountain myself."
Emma "I -- I care for James but not like that, want him ta be happy. But, I am nat gonna be tha one ta do that, he needs ta heal. Be happy from within, I think." Least that is her view.

As Buck continues on Emma goes redder and redder. Hell she is quiet a second, as he is rather bold and forward. Well, he did grab her ass that one time why be surprised bow. "Yer - yer ta nice, ya'know. But, ta tell ya tha truth, you'd like break me." The supplies are put away. "But, ya'know, I'm- I'm flattered'n all, thank ya for helpin" ta boost my confidence some." There is a sound from the hallway, someone called her name. "An attendin' will be in shortly ta doubele check per protocol." And sure she may of noticed that but looks away because.. yeah. "Hope yer lady friend'n ya have fun." Stepping backwards out of the room, he is given a quick shy smile before going where she was called. Shortly after an elderly female attending enters.