Sam looked from the bat, to Jazz, to the ghost on the ground with a huge dent in its head, then back to the bat. “I thought that it was just a bat with the name ‘Fenton’ on it.” The name wasn’t even applied well - it was on a peeling, hard to read sticker.
“Yeah!” said Jazz, panting (beating the crap out of someone was hard work). “And the name Fenton means something, damn it! If I live in a world where magic’s real, I can use it to hit you with a bat!”
Danny going a little more ghostly than he usually would with Sam & Tucker. Who knows what’s going on? He must of really went off the rails to attack his closest allies.
"OW! Can we really not just let it heal on its own?" Danny whined, letting his head fall back against the cold table and relishing in the sharp chill. Frostbite gave his best attempt at a measured glare, which can't have been very good as is easily read as a flat out glare.
"Great one."
"I know! I know... Taking care of yourself is the first step to taking care of others, you say it every time but if I just went home and played Doomed for a couple hours it'd start healing on its own! It's not the worst I've-"
"Great one."
"Ever had! The ghosts don't even attack that much when I'm injured nowadays even Skulker! If you'd just let me go-"
Danny was cut short by his whining by the sharp reverberation of medical scissors slamming against the table. He couldn't help but flinch and shiver as the temperature in the room dropped quickly despite his core.
"They shot. A HOLE. In you." Frostbite bit out with nothing short of contempt, the saviour of the infinite realms, the bridge between the living, the dead, and the never-born sat on his table once again wincing as the yeti tenderly cleaned up a mess left ONCE AGAIN by his own parents. While Frostbite had never been a parent to pups himself his delegation as leader of his people and the protective urge that drew him to fight and learn and heal had never had that paternal edge, the very idea of hurting one of your own in such a way- aware or not- seemed to draw a blazing icy rage from the pits of his core.
Before Danny could resume his ramblings, this time defending the Fentons' poor judgement and abject ruthlessness, Frostbite cut the last of the stitches, discarded the needle, and was compelled to leave the room to compose himself.
