|Emma||The hospital is getting busier and busier now, guess that fight club is bringing people in. But the ER isn't all to busy, not many are waiting.
Emma is working but likely shouldn't be. There are claw marks on her face, down her neck, on her arms, bruises too. Something got her. Meanwhile she is talking to a nurse about someones chart.
|Chase Dalton||"Hey, Em." Chase says, walking up to the check-in desk. He unhooks his FBC-issue vest and begins to wriggle out of it. He whiffs of sweat, blood, and gunpowder. "Aw, man.. my dry-cleaning bill just keeps racking up." He sighs, and chuckles. "Just got out of a big shit-storm downtown. Couple of wannabe gangsters running a drug lab. At least, that was the report. Turns out they were closer to a small militia than a gang."|
|Emma||Looking up Emma lifts a brow, seeing Chase. There is a frown, a worried look and a nod for him to follow. "Yer - yer gonna make my hair turn grey Chase." This is said with an amused grin as she motions for him to sit on the bed, pulling out some paper so she can take notes for his file. "Tha men lately, gettin' inta nothin' but trouble." Idly a hand scratches at one of the cuts on her arm.|
|Chase Dalton||"You look like something the cat dragged in, and then used as a scratching post," Chase nods to the cuts, with a friendly grin. He follows along, and settles on the indicated bed, taking off his shirt and setting it next to his vest.|
|Emma||Her cheeks redden a little when he removes his shirt, and Emma quickly turns away, going to grab a pen so she can write. At the comment to what happened to her, there is fearful hesitation, the memories alone are haunting. That rotting zombie face that was so close to hers, the images makes her shudder. "Nothing living did this." Is the only reply he gets to it. The sentence short but words packed with meaning.
"So ya said ya got attacked? What exactly did they do, where and what hurts?"
|Chase Dalton||"Got shot at, like usual. Got the jump on one of the guys; he had a knife. Thankfully avoided making a pin-cushion out of me." Chase responds. "Didn't get away totally unscathed, though. I applied a field dressing, figured I'd come here to get a proper workup done.." He shrugs, and stretches gingerly. "The day where I /don't/ get shot at will be an odd day, for me at least."|
|Emma||With a click of the pen Emma goes to write this down, laughing a little bit. "Seems ta - ta be a trend ya'know. Lay back'n let me look at where ya got shot, first. Might need ta remove the bullet, unless ya tried ta remove that yerself?" Some gloves are put on to do the exam.|
|Chase Dalton||"Back in the day, yeah, I would have done it myself, but I figured 'why deprive Emma of an opportunity to flex her medical muscle'?" Chase offers with a grin. "D'you want me to undress here? I'm fine either way." He rolls his shoulders, and then winces briefly as he feels the other wound, on his chest, where he was attacked by a lizardman.|
|Emma||Emma chuckles a little. "Well, it is wh - where I shine." Says the red head softly. "A - aye, might as well." She reaches for a gown for him. "Ya can put this on, an' I'll give ya a - a second ta get changed." At that, he'd be given some privacy.|
|Chase Dalton||True to form, it takes just seconds for Chase to divest himself of his clothes, and slip into the gown. "I swear, I spend more time in hospital gowns than in civvies or work clothes." He chuckles to himself, and grins. "How do you want me, doc?"|
|Emma||Returning a second later, Emma is greeted by his question. A brow is risen, cheeks redden a little. "Ah.." Eyes move from him, and to the bed. "La - layin' down, on yer back, with tha front of tha gown open, so I can examine yer wounds."|
|Chase Dalton||Chase Dalton does as instructed, laying the gown open, and facing up. He clasps his hands behind his head, and stretches out, sighing comfortably as his body pops like some sort of unholy popcorn-maker. "There we go."|
|Emma||The popping sound gathers her attention, she chuckles a little. "Do ya - ya stretch often? With sounds like that, tha enemy will hear ya comin'." Grabbing some gloves, they are put on, and from there the lass would walk up beside him and go to look over the injuries, her touch gentle while doing so. "I think yer - yer gonna need some stitches."|
|Chase Dalton||"I can deal with stitches. Besides, stitches give a guy character, don't you think?" Chase responds, wriggling around some to assume a better position for Emma's medical ministrations. "I mean, you see scars, you know a guy's done things."|
|Emma||"Th - they can, yes. But not all stitches are a sign of a active man. I mean, I've seem some with scares got from rather stupid things. But, tha - tha best part of scars is that story behin' them. An' ya can really impress with her stories." She gives him a grin. "I'll start patchin' these up."|
|Chase Dalton||"I could bend your ear with stories, but I don't want to traumatize you any more than I already have." Chase casts a glance down south. "And you've probably heard similar stories.. counter-sniping, covering insertions, shrapnel from frag grenades.." He lists things off as if going down a shopping list.|
|Emma||Emma has seen some bullet holes, and would first set to cleaning all those, and the scratches, before doing any final stitching. "I - I like stories," Says the lass, stopping briefly to lool up to Chase. "Pl - plus, I'm a Racoon survivor, an' I fought those lizard men too. I - I don't have any physical scars though."|
|Chase Dalton||"Back a few years, I was covering a medical convoy rolling out of Kandahar. Jihadi Joe rolls up on a crotch-rocket, does his 'Admiral Ackbar' thing, and *boom*. Guy must have misjudged the blast radius; aside from some crispy whiskers, nobody was seriously hurt. Naturally, after that, Joe's friends just started crawling out of the woodwork. I started picking off targets left and right. It wasn't a game, but damned if it didn't feel like Call of Duty gone legit." Chase wriggles ever so slightly at the stitching. "That tickles," he grins to himself. At the comment about Racoon City, Chase directs his attention to Emma. "Well, if you ever need a decompress, I'm available."|
|Emma||Emma listens as she works, her work is quick, and efficient. The lass is very talented it seems. "So - sounds frightenin'." She replies, shuddering at the thought. "Decompress how?"|
|Chase Dalton||"I mean, if you wanted to talk, grab a beer, do.. whatever. De-stress. I'm here." Chase offers with a smile, as Emma works. "I feel like I'm getting a tattoo, not having my flesh stitched together. Seriously, what cheat codes are you using in life?" He rolls his eyes, playful-like.|
|Emma||Cheeks redden, just a little. "We - well, I think I'm needin' ta relax some, ta be honest. Sit back with a drink an' watch some football." She then laughs. "Practice, healin' is my passion an' all. An' numbin'."|
|Chase Dalton||"I'm down with that. You haven't lived until you've tried my famous nachos.. two layers of mixed blue corn, red corn, yellow corn, lime, chili, and black bean chips, topped with a pico de gallo salsa, a chunky beef and bean spread, cheese spread.. little bit of everything, really." Chase grins, the proverbial cat that got the cream.|
|Emma||"Th - that does sound delicious." Emma replies, finishing up her work and then pulling off her gloves. "Yer - yer sayin' ya can cook then? Tell ya tha truth, dun recall tha last time I had someone cook for me."|
|Chase Dalton||"I did time in the service. When you're overseas, you find ways to make do with what you have on hand, so you learn to get creative. When you have that, /and/ high-quality ingredients, you're asking for trouble." Chase waggles an eyebrow. "I'd love to cook for you some time."|
|Emma||Emma laughs a little. "I - I grew up on an acreage, learned ta grow my own food, an' I never liked ta slaughter, but papa would for meals. Yer right, good ingredients matter." Her own brow lifts as he waggles his. "Well I - I guess you'll have ta prove me wrong and that a guy cook."|