[ahahaaa oh keith, you sweet, sweet innocent fool, no amount of good luck will help you here]
[it's definitely a kid that looks like bad luck all over that is suddenly at the first floor window, peering out at the DOCTOR and Keith; it's a corpse-pale face with a shitty scowl, and he's (obviously) got a bandage wrapped thickly around his head, covering his right eye -- but both of his hands are gauzed as well, and he looks like he's recently gotten into some trouble that involved eating dirt]
[the kid disappears again after a minute, and the door lock rattles as its pulled away]
[the bandages on his hands haven't stopped him from holding an iron bat at his side, still visible in the crack of the door]
[(really, Keith, you couldn't have rung the doorbell enough)]
[he's not really worried about his safety. more naomi's and the patient's, really. there's a disapproving look at that bat, but he manages to keep the smile up.
and kind of nods and thinks to raise his hand a fraction to maybe wave, but then lowers it again. no sudden arm movements, FUCK!!]
I'm Keith. Keith Goodman! And you're Mr. Badou, yes?
[ Not commenting on the exchange, she'll remain as professional as possible. She's not the most experienced with kids, but. She'll give it a shot. ] I'm Doctor Kimishima, Badou, and I have been sent to see to your recent injuries. [ Totally judging whoever did those bandages. The kid must still be in a lot of pain from the looks of it. ]
["Kimishima" is given another dark look (nobody had vouched for her; Keith, he'd been told several times over, was a Good Guy If A Little Eccentric -- he doesn't know this woman, and he definitely doesn't want her -- doing what she's here to do]
[he stands stiffly aside before walking into the house, pacing to the living room and back again to keep an eye (hah) on them, clearly on edge]
[which is more evident from the sudden chatter (and the fact that he hasn't dropped that bat, yet, although it seems to be less of a threat and more for providing a sense of control in the situation)]
I, I dunno what that shitty cop told you, but it's fine. Y'don't need ta mess around with it. It'll heal on its own. He cleaned the black stuff off an' now it's fine.
[it's half true; the cleaning helped, and so did the instant death of the festering infection upon his transport to Holly Heights, but the job wasn't quite done yet]
[following as presumably allowed, holding the door open for naomi. 'black stuff off'— how lovely did that sound. and keith's response would be something along the lines of we were given a job to do, and we plan to see it through!!, but recognizes that that might come off as... a touch threatening, no matter the intent.
considering the added pressure, he's struggling with determining the Right Thing to say.]
I'm sure it's fine! And again, it's all right. [??! ahahaha] Because then only a check-up should be necessary.
[if what badou saying is really true, that is. somehow, consider the given information, he isn't quite convinced.]
[ She steps into the house. She speaks calmly, stating matter-of-factly. ] No, a mere check-up wouldn't be. Infection is a big part of the aftermath of any given wound, but there could be other damage that you or the person who helped you has failed to treat.
Have a seat on the living room couch, and tell me where you have the most problems. [ Some of his injuries may be obvious, but it's best not to assume anything. ]
[his eye darts between the two; a part of of him wants to snap something shitty like why are you here again at the blonde wall of a guy, but he's the only one Badou even vaguely trusts at this moment]
[he clearly bristles at Kimishima's reasonable demand, but drops to the couch without much further fuss; the bat gives a metallic clunk as it gets dropped to the floor]
[the mumble is terse]
My hand's fucked up an' my eye's fucked up. -- An' that shitty cop hit me with his car this week but I don't think nothin's broken.
[FOR MORAL SUPPORT... FOR, SOMETHING... and there goes any attempt at reassurance, but he Tried, and that should be what matters. keith will mostly stay out of the way until asked otherwise, in an effort to give the two space.
and, if it's him that's being addressed—]
I'm a cop here— and a paramedic trainee. [EXTREME "trainee" being the key word here, if had yet to make that glaringly obvious.
because mostly he's just here to hold badou down should that be necessary.]
[ She's been told not to ask much of questions, but the news that 'that' cop hit him is. Um. Yeah. So that's what that post was about. ] We should bring you back for an X-ray later, just in case.
I'm going be removing your head bandage now. [ Simple triage; the head injury demands more attention than his hands. Donning gloves, she goes to do so. Carefully and with much precision to not aggravate his eye wound, of course. ]
[he goes to snap a reply, but the woman's hands on his bandages, precise and gentle as they are, send an instant change through his body; he was on edge before, but at least he was in a generally expressive, bad humour]
[he goes still and silent, jaw tightening and his fists clenching on his lap as the bands of cloth unravel, getting damper on each layer]
[truthfully, it doesn't look nearly as bad as it did when Hijikata saw it, sunken in crusted blood and weeping infection goop; but the fact remains that someone dragged a knife down this kid's face, and no real treatment ever occurred after the fact. both the top and bottom eyelids are lacerated, never properly stitched, horribly scabbed and swollen instead. the eye itself is completely white and dead, damaged beyond repair; the unstitched cut runs another inch down from his eye along the top of his cheek, and a half inch up into his eyebrow. the whole affair is placed within the background of an ugly, purple-yellow-green tint of bruised skin and burst blood vessels]
[as for Badou -- once the wound breathes, he's barely breathing]
[ She takes the damage into account, quickly ordering Keith, ] Hand me the biowaste bag. [ Upon which she'll toss the bandages. And-- ] Take out my emergency supply kit. [ It. Pretty much has everything a doctor like her needs to work on him, even away from the operating table. It's not that she'll operate on him here, but it is just in case.
Noticing that he's become short of breath, Naomi gently guides him to lie down upon the couch, putting a pillow under his head and his knees. ] It's all right, you'll be fine.
[ So she says, but she didn't think it would look this bad. It was a house call, pretty much. If she had known more, she'd just have taken a car here. To Keith once again: ] Do you think you could carry us both back to the clinic? It would be better to treat him there.
[despite the assurances, he pushes her arms off and away, levering himself back up to a sit the second after she guides him down, knocking one of the pillows to the floor as he draws a leg up on the couch]
Wh-why do we gotta go to the clinic? What's -- don't fuckin' touch me, I'm not goin' anywhere weird with -- you --
[the second is spat at Keith, before he can even think about following her instruction; his teeth are bared like he's ready to bite the first person to get into his personal space]
[ She places a hand upon his shoulder, both firm and reassuring, and attempting to keep him down. It should be easy to do given his condition. ] The wound is relatively fresh. If I work quickly, you will have minimal scars. Even so, you need treatment. There are other complications that can arise form a wound like this.
For example. [ Click, click. And now shining a pen light onto his injured eye as she peers into it. ] There is a risk of a weakened blood vessel in the orbit due to this wound, and it is entirely possible it may rupture later on in life. [ Because scaring the kid might be helpful. ]
Additionally, whatever pain medications you are taking over the counter would not be enough. If you are taking more potent drugs [ And suggesting he may be in possession of illicit narcotics. GJ. ], you may not know the adequate dose and may put yourself at risk for addiction.
[ There's another reason for her talking. It's buying Keith time to do what he has to do, and, well, sometimes a calm and collected dialog is what is needed to calm a kid. If only by means of boring them. ]
[keith does as is told of him, quickly end efficiently while keeping an eye on her patient, as one who's had at least a minimal amount of practice at this. besides that, keith feels he can pride himself in a keeping a level head in these sorts of situations — while he may not know how to handle them, per say, getting in the way is something he definitely won't be doing.
as for carrying, well... one person is enough without his usual means of a jetpack, two might be pushing it in terms of speediness.] We won't go like that if it bothers you, Mr. Badou.
[he's having a hard time getting actual words out, but a variety of endings could be imagined to fit that sentence fine; I don't want to go, I don't trust you, I don't know where we're going, I don't want you to touch me]
[the clinical tone does not, in fact, soothe him (rupture? he's gonna fucking rupture?), and he grabs the doctor's hand hard (don'tdon'tdon't), pushing it off his shoulder before trying to dodge past her, his other hand covering his eye as it throbs painfully (it's always a dull ache, always, but he can feel his fucking heartbeat in it right now)]
[well, shucks. so much for this going simply and smoothly.
he moves forward to grab the kid, aiming for the upper arms firstly in the hopes of preventing any further damages to be done. that is, if he's not wildly dodged. keith may be strong, but mayhaps not as nimble as a fourteen-year-old boy running for his apparent life.
regardless, he'll be pretty relentless in his pursuit. it's for the best, he has to remind himself.]
[suffice to say, Badou is not exactly coordinated at the moment; he tries to dodge like a quick little shit, but basically clotheslines himself on Keith instead]
[he lets out a pretty pathetic gasp, instantly scrabbling and pushing to escape again -- he's going for weak spots, eyes and throat and groin, so while he's probably not actually going to do any damage, you might want to be careful not to lose an eye]
[ Well. Three years ago she would have just taken out a barbiturate to sedate him and have his tantrum over with. But that's not her anymore, so instead she approaches Badou slowly. In some way, she pities the kid. It's clear he doesn't trust them-- and she has to wonder if it's a mistrust of adults in general or them just being the authority here. ] Badou, watch me. [ And she raises a single finger in front of him, waving it side to side. It's an old trick to get him to focus on her instead of trying to hurt Keith; the brain can't help but focus on minute movements presented directly in front of the line of sight. When she knows she has his attention, ] Now take a deep breath.
[and somewhere, in the part of his mind that's not consumed by a soul-crushing panic, Badou knows she's right, and he's being stupid, and crazy, and this is fucking embarrassing because he's not a kid, and he keeps saying he's not scared and it's dead and mangled anyway, he's seen it in shop windows and Hijikata's expression, what does he care if it gets fucked with just a little bit more -- ]
[(but he does care, and his heart is beating like a rabbit's somewhere in the vicinity of Keith's ribcage)]
[his eye focuses on the trick. he's not calmed, not by a longshot, but he is distracted (the brain can't help but focus, after all), his own breathing too loud in his ears; he doesn't know what to do or what's going to happen next]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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he'll ring the doorbell twice for good luck, as in, good luck he hopes this doesn't go as terribly as hijikata seems to think it will.]
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She doesn't assume the injury can be that bad, right? If it were, Keith would have brought this kid to her clinic to be checked out. ]
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[it's definitely a kid that looks like bad luck all over that is suddenly at the first floor window, peering out at the DOCTOR and Keith; it's a corpse-pale face with a shitty scowl, and he's (obviously) got a bandage wrapped thickly around his head, covering his right eye -- but both of his hands are gauzed as well, and he looks like he's recently gotten into some trouble that involved eating dirt]
[the kid disappears again after a minute, and the door lock rattles as its pulled away]
[the bandages on his hands haven't stopped him from holding an iron bat at his side, still visible in the crack of the door]
[(really, Keith, you couldn't have rung the doorbell enough)]
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1/2
dog guy...............................
ty hijikata]
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and kind of nods and thinks to raise his hand a fraction to maybe wave, but then lowers it again. no sudden arm movements, FUCK!!]
I'm Keith. Keith Goodman! And you're Mr. Badou, yes?
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[sizing him up like a piece of shit (as if Badou could actually even dent this mountain of muscles)]
...Yah, I guess.
[there's a glance at Naomi, his scowl setting deeper on his face]
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May we come in?
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[he stands stiffly aside before walking into the house, pacing to the living room and back again to keep an eye (hah) on them, clearly on edge]
[which is more evident from the sudden chatter (and the fact that he hasn't dropped that bat, yet, although it seems to be less of a threat and more for providing a sense of control in the situation)]
I, I dunno what that shitty cop told you, but it's fine. Y'don't need ta mess around with it. It'll heal on its own. He cleaned the black stuff off an' now it's fine.
[it's half true; the cleaning helped, and so did the instant death of the festering infection upon his transport to Holly Heights, but the job wasn't quite done yet]
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considering the added pressure, he's struggling with determining the Right Thing to say.]
I'm sure it's fine! And again, it's all right. [??! ahahaha] Because then only a check-up should be necessary.
[if what badou saying is really true, that is. somehow, consider the given information, he isn't quite convinced.]
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Have a seat on the living room couch, and tell me where you have the most problems. [ Some of his injuries may be obvious, but it's best not to assume anything. ]
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[he clearly bristles at Kimishima's reasonable demand, but drops to the couch without much further fuss; the bat gives a metallic clunk as it gets dropped to the floor]
[the mumble is terse]
My hand's fucked up an' my eye's fucked up. -- An' that shitty cop hit me with his car this week but I don't think nothin's broken.
[very helpful]
Is he a nurse or cop or what?
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and, if it's him that's being addressed—]
I'm a cop here— and a paramedic trainee. [EXTREME "trainee" being the key word here, if had yet to make that glaringly obvious.
because mostly he's just here to hold badou down should that be necessary.]
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I'm going be removing your head bandage now. [ Simple triage; the head injury demands more attention than his hands. Donning gloves, she goes to do so. Carefully and with much precision to not aggravate his eye wound, of course. ]
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[he goes still and silent, jaw tightening and his fists clenching on his lap as the bands of cloth unravel, getting damper on each layer]
[truthfully, it doesn't look nearly as bad as it did when Hijikata saw it, sunken in crusted blood and weeping infection goop; but the fact remains that someone dragged a knife down this kid's face, and no real treatment ever occurred after the fact. both the top and bottom eyelids are lacerated, never properly stitched, horribly scabbed and swollen instead. the eye itself is completely white and dead, damaged beyond repair; the unstitched cut runs another inch down from his eye along the top of his cheek, and a half inch up into his eyebrow. the whole affair is placed within the background of an ugly, purple-yellow-green tint of bruised skin and burst blood vessels]
[as for Badou -- once the wound breathes, he's barely breathing]
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Noticing that he's become short of breath, Naomi gently guides him to lie down upon the couch, putting a pillow under his head and his knees. ] It's all right, you'll be fine.
[ So she says, but she didn't think it would look this bad. It was a house call, pretty much. If she had known more, she'd just have taken a car here. To Keith once again: ] Do you think you could carry us both back to the clinic? It would be better to treat him there.
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Wh-why do we gotta go to the clinic? What's -- don't fuckin' touch me, I'm not goin' anywhere weird with -- you --
[the second is spat at Keith, before he can even think about following her instruction; his teeth are bared like he's ready to bite the first person to get into his personal space]
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For example. [ Click, click. And now shining a pen light onto his injured eye as she peers into it. ] There is a risk of a weakened blood vessel in the orbit due to this wound, and it is entirely possible it may rupture later on in life. [ Because scaring the kid might be helpful. ]
Additionally, whatever pain medications you are taking over the counter would not be enough. If you are taking more potent drugs [ And suggesting he may be in possession of illicit narcotics. GJ. ], you may not know the adequate dose and may put yourself at risk for addiction.
[ There's another reason for her talking. It's buying Keith time to do what he has to do, and, well, sometimes a calm and collected dialog is what is needed to calm a kid. If only by means of boring them. ]
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as for carrying, well... one person is enough without his usual means of a jetpack, two might be pushing it in terms of speediness.] We won't go like that if it bothers you, Mr. Badou.
The ambulance will have to make due, I'm afraid.
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[he's having a hard time getting actual words out, but a variety of endings could be imagined to fit that sentence fine; I don't want to go, I don't trust you, I don't know where we're going, I don't want you to touch me]
[the clinical tone does not, in fact, soothe him (rupture? he's gonna fucking rupture?), and he grabs the doctor's hand hard (don'tdon'tdon't), pushing it off his shoulder before trying to dodge past her, his other hand covering his eye as it throbs painfully (it's always a dull ache, always, but he can feel his fucking heartbeat in it right now)]
[we got a runner, folks]
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[ You know what to do. That is, restrain him. Sometimes, this is necessary for patients because they don't know what's good for them. ]
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he moves forward to grab the kid, aiming for the upper arms firstly in the hopes of preventing any further damages to be done. that is, if he's not wildly dodged. keith may be strong, but mayhaps not as nimble as a fourteen-year-old boy running for his apparent life.
regardless, he'll be pretty relentless in his pursuit. it's for the best, he has to remind himself.]
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[he lets out a pretty pathetic gasp, instantly scrabbling and pushing to escape again -- he's going for weak spots, eyes and throat and groin, so while he's probably not actually going to do any damage, you might want to be careful not to lose an eye]
No, no, no -- sh-she's gonna cut it again --
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I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you.
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[(but he does care, and his heart is beating like a rabbit's somewhere in the vicinity of Keith's ribcage)]
[his eye focuses on the trick. he's not calmed, not by a longshot, but he is distracted (the brain can't help but focus, after all), his own breathing too loud in his ears; he doesn't know what to do or what's going to happen next]
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