Apr 25 08:44:51 106 PA
From Chronicles
The main entry and hallway of the Knights Hospital building is a simple and yet cheerful place. The doors are quite big and quite wide to permit the entry of oversized D-Bee visitors if they so wish to come. The opening area is big enough for two guards to sit on either side of the door, usually armed. Though they are the quintessance of curtious and polite and are actual Knights of Hippocrates Employees as opposed to the gang members that help with the outside patrols. They serve the double function of being receptionists as well and direct people to where they are supposed to be in the building. Sometimes they even function as emergency triage to help get a severly wounded person to the Clinic area. They are very well equipped and one is usually a magic user or psionic, and people who cause trouble are gently but firmly shown the door. Sometimes, other 'security' personnel can be seen walking the hallways to make sure the peace is kept.
Despite being called a Hospital, a clinic is a better word. Off to the left is a big waiting room and the doctor's offices while off to the right are the adminsitrative offices. Straight ahead down a little hallway are the building's classrooms. Here and there are motivational posters but what makes the place really cheery are decorations made by some of the very young children that are taught in the classes.
The makeshift lab is loud today, music playing in the foreground rather than the background, and Maya is scooting between machines, talking to them, scolding softly as one refuses to give up the results she is waiting for. Finally she settles in front of a microscope, her head bent as she stares down the glass, the white coat covering her normal clothes, although its unbuttoned state doesn't allow it to cover that much. Her hair, in bunches, do not lend themselves to the serious scientist role, nor does the makeup. The collar is back, but a shadow of a bruise shows behind it.
A green-scrubbed Sebastien strides past the lab once, at a break-neck speed, and returns momentarily with fresh cartons of gauze and antiseptic wipes. Slowing on the return trip, laden with replacement goods, he slows to stare inward at the woman in her lab. Brow furrowing, Sebastien strides off again. Disappearing, perhaps unnoticed. A few minutes later the lab door opens, one scarred head poking inside, followed by green-wrapped shoulders. He watches there, waiting to see if he's noticed.
The first trip is unnoticed as the girl concentrates on her work, her lips moving silently as she sings along with the loud music. The second incursion into her lab, that is noticed, despite her initial refusal to life her head, her shoulders tensing, but she refuses to look up until she is done with that sample. Then she puts it to one side, turning on the stool to face the head poking in. "What?"
Sebastien steps inside, the loud music prompting a faint wince from the man, who lets the door swing shut behind him. Leaning back against the portal, he raises a small glass jar of something commercial. It looks like Tiger Balm. "For your neck," he states simply, offering a small smile to the woman. A creep of color seeps into his face, the red stain spreading oddly along the lines of his scar.
Maya catches up a remote, turning and pointing it at a stereo that lessens the volume instantly, letting the music fall into background. The face she turns back to him lacks the broad grin he should be used to, instead giving him a blank expression. "You mean for the massive bruise where you grabbed me by the throat in front of everyone?" She asks, mock sweetness in her comment, but she takes the jar.
"Oui," Sebastien replies, eyes casting down. "For that. It was a difficult week, and I thought --" his face searches hers, those blue eyes seeking something in them. Something he doesn't find, as he waves at the jar. "Let me help you recover, at least. I owe you that much." The young man pushes off the door, stepping deeper inside on light footfalls to turn and perch lightly on the edge of a nearby workspace, watching the dark-haired beauty carefully.
Her hazel eyes return the searching gaze steadily, looking at first as if he won't be forgiven. Then she softens, lifting her hands to her throat and removing the collar. Behind it, there is indeed bruises, showing where he tugged the hardest. "Difficult week?" She questions, another sign of softening and she opens the jar, sniffing its contents cautiously. "What is this?"
The contents are pungent, smelling of mint and ... something. It's powerful enough to make the nose itch. "It is a pain relieving rub," Sebastien offers, reaching to cautiously dip a pair of fingers inside. "It will feel warm at first, burning hot, and then simultaneously icy cold, until it settles. And then you will feel nothing at all. Topical analgesic, I think, is your parlance." The young knight stands back, waving a pair of minty fingers, though he doesn't come close to her with them yet. Pointedly ignoring the question about the week.
She holds it away from her nose with a faint wince at the smell. A faintly suspicious look but she tilts her head back slightly, touching her own fingers to her throat. Her voice, when she speaks more, is softer, less hostile. "Topical analgesic is good, it really hurt." She gives him a direct look, putting the jar on the table. "You might have had a bad week but the next time I'll hit you somewhere more fragile." Blunt speaking.
"A good friend of mine died," Sebastien returns to that. "I have not seen her in ..." His voice trails off, flashing a smile, and he adds, "A year, perhaps? Some time. I got a letter. I threw out her things and went to the club to unwind. When I saw you there, I thought," he trails off again, and grins at Maya, while eyeing his fingers before looking briefly about for a paper towel. "She enjoyed things more rough than you, apparently."
Maya regards him steadily, her forehead wrinkling as he speaks and she reaches for a towel, offering it to him silently. Then, she hops from her stool, offering him one of her hugs, a softer version than the full blown enthusiastic one, her arms around him. "I'm sorry." She offers softly, against his shoulder. "I like things rough, but I like them asked for first, Sebastien." The words are murmured in his ear. "I don't put out for just anyone I dance with."
The young man wipes at his fingers, tossing the paper into a trash bin before she's upon him. Sebastien's strong arms wrap around Maya's shoulders, cradling her against his chest. Without being able to see his face, it's almost as though the knight is whole once again. A line of muscles down his back tense at what she says, and he gives her a brief squeeze before letting go. "I see, mademoiselle," he adds, a blank expression on his face when she can lay eyes on him again. "Well. Get better." Turning smartly on his heel, the young man reaches for the door.
She steps back, releasing him, her face thoughtful. "Thank you for the salve." She comments quietly, perching herself on her stool once more, her hand reaching for the jar. A hesitation before she speaks as he reaches for the door. "That wasn't a no, Sebastien. Just a ask first." A flicker of her grin, humour returning to her face. "Or at least, don't drag me off the floor by my throat." She twists the lid from the jar, applying some of the salve to her throat cautiously, her head tilted back.
Sebastien's hand stills, pressing flat against the door as his head drops. She might just barely catch the outline of a grin there, upper body bent slightly with hips even. "In that case," he adds softly, peering over his shoulder to give her the left side of his face. From that angle he's perfect, blue eye dancing. "Take a little of the ointment and spread it on your nipples. Something to remember me by while you work." He grins daringly at her, eye challenging.
Maya stares at him for a moment, then her grin reappears, broad and amused. She rests her elbow on the table, propping up her chin in her hand, hazel eyes traveling over his body, very so slowly. "I might do that. But you'll never know if I did." She grins again, shaking her head, as she swivels on the stool to peer down the microscope. "See you in the club. I might even dance with you."
The young knight grabs that door handle, flexing faintly beneath the completely unflattering scrubs. He fills them out well, broad shoulders and tight rump neatly printed, but they're too loose to display more. Sebastien's eyes ascend at that statement, his two forefingers, wiped yet not washed, raised to wiggle pungently in the air. His hand ducks, the green scrub back lifting to flash a stripe of tanned skin above his waist as he goes elbow-deep in the shirt, wiggling those fingers about his chest in a means only hinted at from behind. The shirt drops then as his arm pulls out, fingers lifted to his lips to kiss them softly, to plant with a soft 'thunk' against the door as he slips about it on his way back to work.
