[for Wanda]

[daretodo]

So there's this crazy underwater city that's been, like, actively homicidal lately. And you think to yourself: you'd have to be well and truly insane to go down there without any superpowers or offensive weapons, and expect to come out unscathed.

Which is why I didn't expect to come out unscathed. Sure, I took precautions: webbing, the Vespa suit worn under my street clothes to preserve what's left of my secret identity, the RETs I've been field-testing… But precaution's only gonna get you so far, and while the Vespa suit's designed to take a beating, it's not Splicer-proof.

So I'm tired. I'm smelly. I ache all over and I've got a gash on my shoulder that just keeps bleeding. I manage a quick change of clothes when I get home, but my attempts at stitches don't get very far before I come to the conclusion that I really ought to see a doctor. Cleaning the area as much as I can, I wad up a shirt and use it to put pressure on the wound before I head out towards the Clinic, a little lightheaded by the time I get inside.

"Wonderful Wanda!" I greet, glad to see someone I know as I plant myself on a bed. "Have I got a patient for you."

Comments

[daretodo]

"Or you could be gentler," I grouse, doing my best impersonation of a statue otherwise. "Just a friendly suggestion!"

[soulthatwanders]

"That's a pretty generous definition of friendly," Wanda returned, though she was at least a little less deliberately strident in her actions as she got back to it. "Sorry. Keep in mind this isn't what I went to school for."

[daretodo]

"Now she tells me," I mutter under breath. "I thought Canadians were supposed to be... I dunno, nice."

[soulthatwanders]

"And I thought Americans were supposed to be good at butting into other people's business, but you don't -- oh. Wait," Wanda deadpanned, taping the dressing in place. "I said sorry, didn't I?"

[daretodo]

"Yeah," I allow, frowning at the dressing. "But that doesn't mean I believe ya."