Doc In The House?
There are days that its good to be able to do what he can. Other days it’s not. Fortunately for him today is one of the former; because it saved his arm....mostly.
He’d only had time to harden the deepest parts of him, namely the bones. So the muscle and skin has suffered. A rather deep laceration, that thank fuck is on his right arm. Because the beating the newb mechanic would have gotten for hitting the release latch too soon and pinning Bastian’s left arm between a turbine and it’s seat (subsequently putting his dominant arm out of commission along with ruining one of his tattoos)....would have been legendary. For Baz not the fresh meat.
But lucky for him it’s his right. His tattoo is unscathed, and lucky for the new mechanic he got away with a simple run on sentence of obscenities, while trying to maneuver the crane upwards again. Baz having to use his own over shirt to wrap up the bloody mess while trying not to think about the fact he could see metallic bits. Which means that yes, yes the gaping wound sliced all the way down to bone. Fan-fucking-tastic.
He thinks, as he shuffles his way into the medical wing. His natural resting murder face, even more chiseled into his features. Gaze tracking a few of the nurses and doctors, trying to figure out which one was in charge and which one could stitch him up; so he could get back to work. He had a quinjet to get back up in the air with a deadline that is coming up fast. And patience? Yea not so much his strong suit.
“Which one a’ya’s t’fastest at stitchin’?”