Difference between revisions of "Logs:The Consequences of Whistling"

It's been a short while since V'teri was brought in by the Snowasis' bouncers and looked to by, at first, one of the journeyman, who then quickly referred the man to a master. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to tell you if it was hours or days since his admittance, as all that matters now is that he's been stripped, with only the most minimal of blushing (likely due to the residual pain), stuffed into a brace, dressed in an infirmary nightie, and propped up into a cot to rest. There may have been some very vocal disgruntlement about how sleeping sitting up is about as bad as people who sleep with their eyes open or some such nonsense, but after those moments of initial bluster, the once Monacoan bronzerider has fallen completely silent. Maybe he's sleeping now. His eyes are surely closed.

There's been a change of shift since then, and though there has no doubt been a detailed handover, Madilla pauses to look at V'teri's chart as she makes her rounds about the Infirmary: it doesn't do to miss a detail. She's quiet, apparently deliberately so, since it's hard to tell whether he's awake or not, but no one is completely silent - and there are a certain amount of noises that come naturally with this kind of thing. Footsteps, for one. The sound of a chart being picked up. The short intake of breath. Despite this, she's very still as she reads through the chart, glancing up at the patient only in passing.

Apparently all his prior disgruntlement about sleeping seated was for good reason, as while V'teri eyes are close, a more thorough inspection reveals irregularities in breathing, a twitch of his nose, and a decidedly sour set to his pretty little mouth -- an expression that could mean he's having a horrid nightmare or -- as evidenced by the sudden flutter of his eyes open, his state of desolate wakefulness. Slate eyes narrow in on Madilla, studying her in one of those intervals where she's reading rather than glancing up, but the next glance up would find those eyes, only slightly widened, unwavering and perhaps a, "Drew the short straw, huh?"

It's likely Madilla has noted that wakefulness, given she probably sees a lot of this. Still, her stance doesn't relax until her upwards glance actually has her meeting V'teri's gaze: he might, after all, have been, /trying/ to sleep. "The short straw?" she asks, keeping her voice low - there are, after all, /other/ patients, if none nearby - though there's a hint of amusement to it. "No, no. We take turns. I don't mind. How are you feeling?" She sets the chart down so that she can walk around the side of the bed and get a closer look. "Not too uncomfortable?"

Other patients aren't his concern, and while Madilla might modulate her voice, the bronzerider keeps a nice, average volume. Tough noogies, sleepers. "If I told you I was uncomfortable, what could you do for me?" The thought of this amuses V'teri and, if only briefly, distracts him from whatever thoughts were clouding his head just moments earlier. But just as quickly, he shakes his head, wincing slightly, and waves a hand. "It's ok. I'm 'lright. Anything you could've done for me probably should've happened 'fore your Weyrwoman decided to not like me. Y'know," he manages the wanest grin, "Like a warning or something." A hand shifts above the blanket that's been brought up to his waist, fingers pinching around a visible fold in the fabric tightly.

Madilla's mouth opens, as though she intends to say something, the moment V'teri asks that first questions. He moves on too quickly for her to answer, though, and in the wake of the remarks that follow, she leaves the question alone. Leaning up against a chair that's sitting not far from the bed, she gives V'teri a rueful, but not unsympathetic, smile. "Our Weyrwoman," she tells him, diplomatically, "is notoriously mercurial. It surprises me that no one thought to mention that. Although I admit, I would have thought caution to be a wise move when dealing with anyone of rank. May I ask what you did, to earn her--" She pauses. "Ire?"

All those little mannerisms you do when whole, hale, and hearty are what cause V'teri the most pain now. He /knows/ not to go running headfirst into a wall, but when it comes to those charming little shrugs that make up parts of his physical personality, he forgets. Like now, when he does so and winces again. In a voice that's only slightly strained, he ekes out a rather rueful, "I whistled. Well... I made noises while she was working, and she should wear a knot. Or a gigantic 'beast bell around her neck."

There's no missing that wince, nor the strain in that voice: Madilla straightens from her lean, hands out, though there's not exactly anything she can /do/; instead, she hovers. That, and, "Keep still. It won't hurt so much if you keep still." Her expression contains obvious and sincere sympathy, and only the faintest amount of amusement around her eyes - which she seems rather eager to be rid of, somehow. Somehow, that is sincere, too. "Ah," she says. "I suppose she's used to being recognised, around here. I'm sorry. Whatever the cause--" It was an overreaction. Even if she won't say it.

"I would say-," V'teri begins and then pauses ever so briefly, long enough to favor Madilla, with all her straightened-upness and hovering, with a considering brow arc. (That at least doesn't hurt.) Unless the pause were noticed, it would seem a only slightly-not fluid slide into his next words, no sign of rethinking other than that half breath of a void, "You have no reason to be sorry. Not at all. After all," he can still smile with an earnest charm, as long as he doesn't move the rest of his body, "We hadn't even met before then and might not have had a reason to meet at all." A hand begins to lift reflexively and falls before it gets too far up. "V'teri. You'll have to excuse my manners. My pa raised me right better than this. Y'know, stand for ladies, shake hands, not have such nice ones wait on you hand and foot."

Charm seems to relax the healer again: any man inclined to turn it on like that can't be in too much pain. Probably. She backs up against the chair again, though the movement doesn't seem to suggest she's backing /away/ from him, as such. Though her cheeks do flood with faint pink. "I would say that I may nonetheless be sorry; I don't really delight in having new patients. You'll have to excuse my manners, too. I knew your name already - from your chart - but I've made no effort to introduce myself. Madilla. It's a pleasure to meet you, V'teri, despite the circumstances." She reaches out, evidently intending to replace the handshake withe a gentle squeeze of his lower arm.

Probably. V'teri, too, relaxes a touch in Madilla's presence, able to sink back and allow the pillows propped up behind him to carry the weight of his back more than his shoulders. This final shift, subtle though it might be, smooths much of the lines that crease about his features. "Ah, right." Those eyes flutter shut as she reaches for his lower arm and then open again. "Healer said I would be here for a seven at least, if not longer. Not broken," as if she doesn't already know this from his chart, but somehow the repetition of it soothes out the rest of the brittle patches in his voice. "Not broken at least. Do you think... I will be able to get out of here soon?"

Madilla lets her fingers rest upon his forearm for a few moments before she withdraws them again, holding both hands behind her back, fingers twined about each other. "You're young," she tells him, choosing her words carefully. "And healthy, from all appearances. We'll have to wait and see, but I don't see any reason why it couldn't be that sevenday and no longer. As long as you look after yourself. Let us do whatever we can, to help." Her tone is largely one of quiet seriousness, but not without a cheerful lilt, one that comes rather more into full force as she adds, "It's not often a person does get to be waited on, hand and foot. Enjoy it while you can."

At that, V'teri can't help but smile -- one of those full, toothy ones that have no other agenda other than wanting to laugh but knowing he shouldn't. It's a cheerful smile, a feat given his plight. "Young." There's appraisal in those cloudy eyes for the journeywoman healer. "You can't be much older than me, if you're even that. No, I don't think you're older'n me." Interested in discerning her age, those eyes narrow and his mouth quirks to one side, chin bobbing as if keeping a mental count. "Twenty?" he ventures tentatively.

Cheerful smiles make Madilla smile, too: earnest and encouraging. She turns rather pink-cheeked again, however, at what he says. Rather hastily, "I wasn't implying-- That is to say. Young, relative to the human lifespan. Not young relative to /me/." One of her hands creeps around from behind her in order to push a stray curl behind her ear, a somewhat self-conscious gesture. "Twenty-three. Nearly. One would hope that I, too, would be quick to recover from such an injury."

"Ah," V'teri responds though it's clear his pretty head does not quite comprehend more than just the gist of what she says: human lifespans, relativity and all. "I would never wish this kind of injury on you any place or time. And to give you a head start, I advise you to not whistle or sing songs or make other noises around certain blackhearted goldriders." The wink that punctuates his advice also seems to mark the advent of actual fatigue again and he again tips his head back just a bit to rest both neck and eyes. "Hey. Hey." Beat. "Can I ask a favor?"

That wink, those words-- Madilla laughs, just quietly, and promises, "I will keep that in mind." Her nod seems to encourage the asking of that favor; she gives him a wide-eyed glance that does much the same. And for good measure: "Of course. What can I do for you?"

It's unfortunate he misses the wide-eyed glance when it begins, but surely, as those eyes open, he doesn't miss it now and the sight of it draws out a closed-lipped smile on V'teri's face. He takes just a moment to take the expression in all its earnest promise in before speaking. "Could you ask this Milani girl to come visit? I don't know if she'll have heard of my situation'n I asked her to look into something a while ago. Something a friend mentioned and my da told stories about." But a yawn threatens to shift his finally relaxed repose, and the bronzerider's body tenses. "Healer did say the medicine would kick in soon..." Soon, apparently is a different length of time for agitated minds as opposed to calm, collected healer-y ones.

There's only the faintest hint of curiosity at the mention of Milani, and why the bronzerider might want to see her - Madilla keeps herself rather busier by nodding enthusiastically and drawing herself away from the chair again. "Of course," she murmurs, leaning in to readjust those blankets (whether they need them or not). "I'll let her know. Sleep well, V'teri."

'Mmm. Nini, healer lady,' is what V'teri might say if he were awake. And he is again, for a short moment to say, "Hey!" rather abruptly.

Madilla pauses, equally abruptly, and pulls back from her studious blanket-adjusting to give V'teri a quizzical glance. "Is everything all right?" she wants to know.

"Come visit again, Maddie," says V'teri, smiling lazily even as those eyes of his close once more. This time, they remain shut for the rest of the night or afternoon. Damned if he's still keeping track of time in the state he's in.

It makes Madilla smile. It might even have been a laugh, but, well. This is an /infirmary/, and her patient is sleeping. "Of course," she tells him, head shaking just slowly. "Of course."