Bruiser

[Beckyboo]

Two hours ago, Jacob Whittle had signed out. He had gathered his coat and walked out to his rust-bucket car- which was the most reliable thing in his life despite its appearance. He'd stuck his key into the ignition, turned down the radio to a bearable level, put on his seatbelt, flicked on the headlights, and had put the car in reverse just in time for a loud knocking to come at the window, causing him a horrible fright. It was the chief of staff.

One hour and fifty-two minutes ago, Jacob Whittle signed back in.

Tired eyes and hunched shoulders was the flag of a man exhausted and sore from a day too long, but he was never the sort to say 'no', especially not to someone of authority. Another two hours, that was all, right? For these two hours he found himself clearing out the clinic with only four nuses on duty. It was, needless to say, a nightmare- and Whittle had his fair share of complaints of time spent waiting by the time ten rolled around.

He was on his way to sign off yet again, nearly dragging his feet by now, when his pager went off. Jacob sighed (should have known), plucked it off his belt and narrowed his eyes at the display.

Two minutes later, he was at the desk in the ER, narrowing his eyes at the nurse and reaching for the folder left out for him. He might have said something along the lines of I'm supposed to be on my way home if it had not been for the fact that Mr. Whittle was a pushover.

".. a bruiser," he mumbled. "Figures.."

"What was that?" the receptionist said.

Whittle sent her a pathetic frown, turning and moving down the row of closed curtains. If I'm lucky, he'll still have a bit of fight left in him. He drew back the curtain on number 17b, giving immediate inspection on whomever was on the bed behind the curtain.

[MacBeth]

Behind curtain 17b contained a bed filled by none other than Ethan Alexander Fihnn.

Just as his signature luck would have it, previously that evening he was mugged while checking into his newly acquired apartment room.

Luckily, Ethan had only been shanked twice in the stomach after retaliating against his assailant's brutalities. Knowing kenningston, it could have been much worse.

Unfortunately, his attacker had also taken all of the money he had on him, including his favorite rolex. In addition, they had taken the time to rummage through his suitcases. Anything of value that hadn't been well hidden in the cases, had very well been taken away.

Luckily Mr. Fihnn had been beaten around hard enough to cause the adequate ruckus needed to draw attention to the scene. Too bad that by the time they had gotten there, his attacker had already escaped.

Ironically, Ethan had come to Kenningston to make a few quick bucks the same way. Was it naivety that had made him to be mugged first? Of coarse not. Ethan ISN'T naive. He just needed to be more careful next time. Bad luck. That was all that it was.

In any case, none of this meant anything to him for the time being. In fact, he had probably been in more pain than he had experienced in his entire life.
Now, as fate would have it, he was now broken, bruised, and in the care of Jacob Whittle.

[Beckyboo]

"..well, you're not as bad as I thought you'd be," the doctor said under his breath. He was thankful the nurses had at least stabilized the man; otherwise, he'd likely to be dead. Unfortunately, they seemed to have gone a bit light on the anesthetic.. Whittle would be lying if he said he felt pity for the patient, but at least he had out an apology and moved to take care of business.

"Has an officer been in to speak with you yet about the assault?" he asked dimly, giving the man just a bit more. After administering the drug (and then preparing to suture the already bandaged and treated would), he added under his breath, "Unless, of course, you vouched out of that, like every self-important man in this godforsaken city.."

[MacBeth]

Ethan grunted. He'd never been in the hospital before for more than a couple broken knuckles. It had been made clear that he enjoyed this visit just about as much as the mugging itself (although, that is a clear exaggeration). Even though he was being fixed up, it didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

"An officer? I haven't seen one all day," he answered Jacob,"and you wonder why this fucking city has so many problems. All of the cops probably sit on their asses while everything goes to shit."

In his case, he noted, this fact was unfortunate, but in the back of his mind he had noted that an overwhelmed police force could be an advantage later. For now, he could care less as long as his attacker had been caught-- either by the police or his own forces.

[Beckyboo]

There was an expressionless looked at Ethan for the moment, before the doctor turned to the nearby sink. "Wonder? I don't wonder about anything. In case you haven't noticed, this is a hospital. We receive multiple victims of separate crimes every time of day, such as yourself." After rolling his sleeves up, he proceeded to wash his hands. "I'll get a member of hospital security in here to take your statement after I've closed the wound."

Everything had been in such a dull tone of voice, as if he were just one step away from yawning from boredom. Yet, of course, it was far from how he felt. Jacob Whittle was just really tired.

As soon as he dried his hands, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves, pulled over the tray and began to remove the gauze from the wound. He didn't question whether or not the anesthetic had kicked in. As soon as he took care of this, he could go home.

[MacBeth]

Ethan raised an eyebrow in response. It wasn't exactly the reply he'd expected from the doctor. None the less, he quieted down and watched Jacob work. To him, it had seemed as an almost interesting process to watch from the comfort of his own hospital bed. But even if this was the case, he still didn't seem that impressed.

As a new experience, It hadn't felt so bad to be stitched up. It certainly hadn't been a knife or two twisting into his abdominal. Granted, he figured that the anesthetics had also kicked in to relieve the pain.

He relaxed back in the bed, and stared up at the ceiling while reminding himself of the inconvenience this 'minor' injury would cause. How many long would it take to heal enough for stitches to be removed and what trouble could this cause him in this time? He could only imagine 'pulling at the seams' while completing some of the most menial daily tasks.

[Beckyboo]

The procedure took about as long as one would expect, and by the time Jacob had closed the wounds, applied some sort of cream and replaced the bandages, he looked about ready for a damn long break. However, by said time, he'd simply begun to go through the motions, taking care of items. He even left for a moment or two, returning empty-handed and slightly annoyed.

"You'll need to stay here overnight. There'll be a prescription for painkillers and anti-inflammatory medicine. If there are any deep abdominal pains, you should notify a doctor. I'll leave my number with your paperwork." He pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket, sliding them on, and pushing them up his nose. "I've also contacted the police. There should be someone here to talk to you before morning. Or.. whenever the hell they manage it, I suppose. Keep it fresh in your mind, whatever the case."

He set down a folder on the stand near the end of the bed. Whittle also made a special note of checking the machines Ethan was hooked up to. "Do you want a sedative to sleep?"

[MacBeth]

"Sure, why not," he replied in a half-attentive tone. He'd still been preoccupied with the pissy thought of his own current predicament. Given his mood, it really didn't matter to him whether he had the drugs or not. In any case, he knew he should just sleep, and that drugs would aid him in this. So why not?

"I'm out tomorrow morning then, right? and then when would I have to come in to get the stitches removed?" He'd wondered if he could have an estimate now. Ethan was the type who liked to be informed as soon as possible, even if he didn't necessarily need the information until after he'd awoken the next morning. Knowing was almost like speeding up the process for him--and the sooner, the better.

[Beckyboo]

Jacob let out a short sigh as went to gather the sedative. As he did so, he informed the man how it would work- from being released if he was stable and when he'd need to pop back in to check on the stitches. It didn't take long to do either, and by the time the sedatives were administered through a needle to the arm, the doctor added, "I'll be here in the morning. If you're not lucky enough to be out of here before eight, I'll see you then."

[MacBeth]

After the drugs had been administered, Ethan listened to the the doctor's last words and nodded to him in responce before he left the office. He had felt the sedative slowly calm his nerves, and soon before long, he had fallen asleep.

In the morning, the man was released from the hospital early and given the remainder of his things at the front desk.

He was relieved to be out of that god damn hospital. Enough set backs.
What more did he expect after coming to such a hostile area? Not to get his ass kicked, That's for sure. He would be more careful this time. He had to be. Anymore slip ups, then he could wind up dead in some back alley.

These thoughts proved not to concern him so much as they pissed him off-- after all, he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. By now, he was used to this, as well as the fact that everything usually ended up fairly alright for him...Well, depending on what you regard as 'fairly alright'.

Ethan ambled his way to the bus stop-- Which, conveniently had been located just outside of the hospital parking lot. He plopped into the seat, and routinely checked his missing Rolex. He grunted in disapproval, and stared up at the bright blue sky. Clearly it was a beautiful morning-- and he wasn't having any of it.

[Beckyboo]

As far as mornings went, Dr. Whittle's hadn't gotten any better. He'd only had time for the briefest of showers before heading out the door. The more annoying aspect of it all was the fact that he hadn't had a restful night's sleep in about a week.

The drive there was no better, but at least, after a short stop for coffee, he felt a bit more lively. It was decent up until he made to pull into the parking lot- he let on the brakes, and put the rustbucket of a car in reverse, back to the turn-in of the lot.. next to the bus stop.

He hurried to roll the window down.

".. getting on that bus is the last thing you want to do, boy," he called to the familiar bruiser sitting on the bench. "You'd have a better time undoing your stitches with a rusty pair of scissors!"

It was a quick decision. "Get in the car."