✚
Send a ✚ for my muse’s reaction to yours walking in on them while they’re getting a wound cleaned.
“If you’re going to do it, then do it, Tomalak. Don’t pussyfoot around about it,” Toreth hissed through gritted teeth, gripping the edge of her chair hard enough to drain the color from her knuckles.
“Hey,” her colleague held up his hands, “I’m just warning you this is going to hurt like hell. I have chronic shoulder problems, remember? I’ve experienced this before. People black out from this sort of thing, you really ought to go-”
“I am not hobbling in to sickbay with my shoulder out of its socket,” she returned, irritably. “Just do it.”
“Alright, but maybe take it easy on the training programs for a while,” Tomalak shook his head, pulling a grey handkerchief from his pocket. “Here, bite down on this. I promise it’s clean.”
Toreth did as she was told, closing her eyes and steeling herself for what was to come. With an exasperated sigh, Tomalak braced his hands around her shoulder, then wrenched it back into place. Beneath the pain of bone scraping against bone, she felt a stomach-turning pop as her arm returned to its socket. She groaned aloud, grinding her teeth into the handkerchief, stars dancing across her vision as she doubled over to press her forehead to her knees.
“I told you so. You might just be the most stubborn ass I have ever met,” her comrade snorted, patting her uninjured shoulder sympathetically. “You’re not going to be sick, are you?”
“No.”“Good. And you’re at least going to let sickbay finish the job, yes? Because if you don’t, then I-” the Riov’s voice trailed off as he realized they had garnered a solo audience.
Glancing upward herself, Toreth bristled as her eyes settled upon the newcomer. Despite the pain in her shoulder, she sat stiffly upright, firmly clenched her jaw, and offered him a cold, yet professional nod.
