riverviewlogs | Vikings Make The Worst Patients (OTA)

who: Ivar and you!
what: Someone is the worst sort of patient when healing
when: Later half of May
where: The hospital and communal housing
warnings: Cranky Viking and possible mention of graphic injuries

I. The Hospital

To say that Ivar was angry was an understatement. He was absolutely furious. Mostly at Dodger, but he saved a little bit for himself. He'd almost died, but who cared about that? Dying in battle was no shame. Losing to some arrogant, idiotic mutant, now that's what really had him steamed. He spent the first couple of days alternately sleeping, healing up from the various stab wounds Dodger had given him, and plotting revenge against the older man.

But by day three, Ivar had had it. He wanted out of this hospital and back on the streets. When the doctors stated he had to stay for at least a few more days to heal properly, he went ballistic. They'd ended up sedating him when he'd managed to grab a scalpel and managed to slash up one of the doctors attending him. After that, he'd calmed down, but only enough to promise not to kill anyone while he was resting.

However, this didn't mean he was going to be a model patient. Anyone who was on the third floor of the hospital right now was going to hear a very angry Viking teenager. Ivar could be quite loud when he wanted to be. There were yells, the sounds of something breaking, and then Ivar roaring, "Get out of here!" Following that was a very loud crash as he threw a tray at the nurse making a hasty retreat from his room. He was in a foul mood and everyone was going to know it.

II. Communal Housing

Eventually, the hospital let him leave after the stab wounds had completely healed. His ribs were still on the mend, but there was nothing to be done to help him there. They told him to take it easy for the next five weeks, and that they would mend on their own. One big bottle of painkillers given to him later and he was on his way.

Despite his fury at being confined to a hospital bed early in the month, he was thinking perhaps leaving the place so soon was a mistake. He was still in a lot of pain, though anyone who saw him would be hard-pressed to realize it. There was just the little signs, how he would wince every so often as he wheeled himself back towards the communal housing building, or press a hand to his ribs if he had to move in the wrong direction for too long.

It was slow going, and by the time he pushed open the door of the complex, he was completely exhausted. All he wanted to do was go up to floor five, eat, take a shower, and sleep, in that exact order. Anyone who encountered him right now was going to find a very tired Viking who was nonetheless still as bad-tempered as he'd been at the hospital.

Threaded | Flat

Despite how much Cain had been pushing to be outgoing and getting into other peoples' businesses, he really didn't have a whole lot to fill his days lately. Sure, there was his job but it was easy (and he liked it that way), and there was exploring the city (and there was plenty to look at), but he didn't have his old resources nor his nice toys and he definitely didn't have his brother or his niece-descendant or the twins...

There was a whole lot of not enough going on, basically. So when he saw someone entering the communal housing ahead of him, someone obviously with something going on, his interest sparked. Interest and some pity, although he was conscious of making it look more like sympathy since most people didn't react to pity well at all.

"You all right there?" he asked, making to walk alongside the poor wheelchair-bound guy.

[Just a chance encounter with 2B - the two helped professor Sycamore a while back, but didn't really meet since then, until now.

Ivar being on a wheelchair is normal and not something that is a cause for worry or curiosity, but this time... this time 2B sees that something is different, and wrong.]

What happened?

[So, have a nosy android approach and ask bluntly.]

She had found it oddly silent about the complex of late, and now she knows why. Elizabeth is just on her way back home from a day at work when she catches sight of him, and moves to press her palm to the door in order to hold it open. Concerned grey eyes meet his, and she smiles faintly as the fact that he is in rough shape registers in her mind. Her free hand tentatively lowers to rest against his shoulder, a gentle gesture she makes unthinkingly, really.

"It is good to see you, cousin." She need not call him that, not really. But it seems to suit, and it gives her comfort to know she has a relation here, however distant. "I had wondered why it has been so quiet of late."

Shifting the hand from his shoulder to the back of his chair, she helps him push himself inside, and pauses.

"If you wish, I can help you get abovestairs with greater ease."

There was word going around about Ivar's brawl and the state he had been left in. It was disappointing how little of a surprise this was. The boy had shown himself to be impulsive and hot tempered from the brief interaction they had over the network. Maybe that was why Jon decided to visit him and see how he was convalescing. There was something about Ivar that reminded him of himself when he first joined the Wall. He was never murderous in that way, but there was the same lack of impulse control.

He could hear his shouts from down the hall, a few nurses darting away in a mix of fear and frustration. There was one man who was having his arm stitched from having been slashed, indicating the sort of mood Ivar was in. He wasn't wise to see someone that was acting like a cornered animal, but Jon was never wise.

There was the sound of a crash as he neared Ivar's room, a nurse bolting out and nearly running into him. He stepped inside without any fear, pulling a chair to sit next to the boy's bed. "It's not smart to push away the people trying to save your life."

Despite the fact that Tony had been spending more time buried elbow deep in wires and metal over the last little while, he still managed to hear about Ivar and, well, despite the fact he was still ninety percent sure that the kid was going to kill him in his sleep (or at least try), he was a little concerned. Just a little.

After taking an actual nap and shower, Tony made his way over to the hospital to pay the viking a visit, a small robotic dagger in his hands. He had made it much in the same fashion as he had the bracers, and had made it able to be recalled much the way he said he would; with a simple voice command, or arm movement, from Ivar. Nothing too fancy, no nanites that allowed it to change shape like his armour did (though, he was thinking about that, there was potential for that kind of technology being turned into a simple dagger, but Tony still wasn't fond of weapons for the sake of weapons. The dagger was a gift of sorts, the bracers defensive, that was how he justified it).

The genius rounds the corner of the hospital floor, a smirk tugging at his face as he hears the yelling. The smile falters when he sees the nurse looking harried, Tony pauses long enough to make sure that she is okay (spends a few moments outside with her, soft words and smiles because god damn, being a nurse is a tough deal) before he makes his way into Ivar's room.

Leaning against the door frame, Tony tosses the dagger idly in his hand as he gives the teen a look somewhere between amused and annoyed. It's a look he got himself many a time.

"You know, I think you actually have worse bedside manner than I do, and I don't know if it's horrifying or impressive." Mostly the latter, but whatever. "If I give you this, promise not to throw it into someone's throat? Because I can totally wait to give it to you."

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