[ closed starter for @muppeteyes1001 ]
It’s been four days since the surgery, and his heart is pounding in his chest. Viktor had made it through the surgery, though not without some complications. He and Heimerdinger were the first ones allowed to see him, called in on the third night after their patient had apparently been begging. However, he’d discovered from Viktor’s drugged ramblings that he’d also been calling for Kitt. When he had checked, he discovered that Dr. Tethrin had excluded her from the priority visitors list, which would keep her away for at least a week. There was no way he’d let that happen, not with Viktor calling her name in his addled sleep.
So, here he is, sneaking Kitt in through his connections with the Council. He’s still in the middle of catching her up as they walk. “I swear, Tethrin must have been pretty pissed you to keep you off that list. I made sure the nurses would change the papers, but just to be safe, let’s not draw any attention…”
He stops by the door, his hand hovering over the knob before he hesitates away and looks to her with a serious, yet sympathetic expression. “You should uh…probably be prepared. He looks pretty rough. The bandages will look bad, but it’s just the healing process.” He pauses again, grimacing slightly. “And he might be a little out of it, with all the medications he’s on. They’re doing their best to prevent his fevers from getting too bad, but his body has been through a lot.” He nods one last time as affirmation, then opens the door.
It’s a ward, with three other patients in similar beds to Viktor’s. All are held in the prone position, with their backs exposed and bandaged. The gurneys they’re in are large and overly mechanical, almost resembling a circus wheel rather than a bed. Curtains are drawn around two of the beds, with one open and showing a mother sitting beside her child’s gurney, reading quietly. She glances up at the two visitors, then back down to the book, minding her business.
Viktor is there, in his own bed, laying prone with a cannula up his nose and an IV tube in his arm. He’s covered in bandages, bruising, and supportive restraints. His messy hair hangs about his face, obscuring his eyes and expression. His back rises and falls slowly with each breath, and his wheezes are slightly audible past the hissing of his oxygen tank. He looks significantly paler than he did before.
Jayce quietly approaches the bed while holding Kitt’s hand, guiding her closer. “… Viktor?” he calls quietly. There’s no response. “… It’s Jayce. Kitt’s here, too.”
“… Kitt…?” Viktor rasps out, fighting fatigue and pain just to muster enough volume to be heard.
