A Hard Sell || Jem & Es
Long fingers tapped manically against the counter as Jem watched the nurse scan for his partner, eyes wild with every second that ticked on failing to treat the dying cat. “Black hair?” the nurse asked, the stoic display fading some as she surely took in the matted hair against Es’s hair and the red stain at the corners of her lips.
“Yes, please.” Jem was far past his normal charming, begging as he reached a hand out. “I’ll sign whatever forms you need but please - please have someone look at her.” The nurse, however, held a finger up at the stressed werecat, speaking in what Jem assumed to be hospital jargon on a phone while simultaneously reaching for a chart. The chart was his as she nodded to a man behind the glass. There was an instant flurry of motion around him and Jem took it as his sign to be excused.
With the barest bit of superhuman speed, he was beside Es, sitting so her head balanced on his shoulder. “A second, pretty girl. Just a second.” He kissed the sweat slick hair, merely shaking his head at her apology. There was nothing to be sorry for and it seemed counteractive to even acknowledge the thought. There was a limited amount of fake information in Jem’s brain that he knew he could enter onto the form before he’d need to call Sion and, in this minute, the numbers he’d memorized seemed far off. He couldn’t focus with Es burning beside him or the damn patient snapping. It didn’t fully garner Jem’s attention till the male voice spoke and he rose his head in attention the same moment.
Light eyes narrowed he leaned his lips against Es’s ear, half snarling and cooing in the same motion. “Who is that prick?” Jem was sure he knew but he wanted the confirmation from Es before he made any moves to hunt
Just a second. Just a second. Her mind repeated Jem’s words over and over until his voice distorted and she lost track of the hospital. Where was she? Oh, right. Es coughed and covered her mouth, half-worried blood would be in her hand. She didn’t look, just wiped it on the pants Jem had put on her and prayed for the best. The hospital scared her. Looking around she heard her father’s intense words and her mother’s sobs. She faintly remembered hurting one of her siblings when she was little, when she couldn’t control her shifts and her sibling had poked her with a stick. She’d attacked, but she didn’t remember anymore than that. Stitches. Someone needed stitches. Her brain blocked out the rest of the traumatic event. The aftermath of accidentally hurting someone who shared her blood almost brought her to death, thanks to her stepfather. She was glad she couldn’t remember much else.
“A client,” she whispered back, eyes closing as she rest her head against Jem’s shoulder. She didn’t want to think about the man. She felt clammy, like she should be in a pool inside of a waiting room. Multicolored orbs opened to look at the paper Jem struggled to fill out. “Address?” Es didn’t have an address.
Esmeralda wanted a home. She wanted a family. But she didn’t think she deserved either of those things. She knew her parents address by heart, but writing it down might make family matters worse. “I have a phone number,” she said weakly, excited not all of the information needed to be a lie. “Thanks to you.” She leaned to kiss his cheek and promptly relaxed against his body again. She was desperate to hold his hand but wouldn’t be able to with the form in his lap. The man across the room whistled but she ignored it, watching how Jem reacted. “Don’t worry about it.”
