The words are uttered quickly, decisively, and the feed of June's serious face cuts out. She's never seen this Ratchet look so stone cold scared, and the few times she'd seen the Ratchet she knew back home in genuine distress had been telling enough.
Thank god for the combined efforts to get June's clinic stocked and running -- it means she's got a halfway decent first aid kit, even if none of the supplies have that universal grip to them. In the emergency room there was always a comfort in that kind of familiarity. There's a hard edge to the way she moves now that Ratchet's never seen in her before, every word in a tone of firm instruction even as she has him lift and deposit her onto the slab where he'd placed Verity. She's down on a one-kneed crouch at Verity's side in an instant, the heavy case to her first aid kid spread open next to her. She peels back the blanket and her gaze sweeps over Verity's form, taking in the injuries, the tape that almost looks as though a human did it. He's got impressive dexterity, all right.
"You should have called me right away," June says to Ratchet gravely, but her voice lacks the expected chiding tone. She turns her attention back to Verity, her face softening slightly. Ratchet's never mentioned his human friends to June, not really, but she finds she's not surprised to know he has them. And for him to look -- to sound so painfully terrified for her well-being -- June knows she must be someone important indeed.
"My name is June. I'm a nurse. I'm just going to take a quick look at you, all right?" Her voice is steady, certain to introduce herself before she reaches to gently cradling the back of Verity's head in one hand, digging out a battered penlight from her pocket with the other. She taps it on with a thumb and flashes it quickly into Verity's eyes. She doesn't doubt Verity's concussed; it's just a matter of how bad. "I'm a friend of Ratchet's, he called me over. Can you tell me your name?"
no subject
The words are uttered quickly, decisively, and the feed of June's serious face cuts out. She's never seen this Ratchet look so stone cold scared, and the few times she'd seen the Ratchet she knew back home in genuine distress had been telling enough.
Thank god for the combined efforts to get June's clinic stocked and running -- it means she's got a halfway decent first aid kit, even if none of the supplies have that universal grip to them. In the emergency room there was always a comfort in that kind of familiarity. There's a hard edge to the way she moves now that Ratchet's never seen in her before, every word in a tone of firm instruction even as she has him lift and deposit her onto the slab where he'd placed Verity. She's down on a one-kneed crouch at Verity's side in an instant, the heavy case to her first aid kid spread open next to her. She peels back the blanket and her gaze sweeps over Verity's form, taking in the injuries, the tape that almost looks as though a human did it. He's got impressive dexterity, all right.
"You should have called me right away," June says to Ratchet gravely, but her voice lacks the expected chiding tone. She turns her attention back to Verity, her face softening slightly. Ratchet's never mentioned his human friends to June, not really, but she finds she's not surprised to know he has them. And for him to look -- to sound so painfully terrified for her well-being -- June knows she must be someone important indeed.
"My name is June. I'm a nurse. I'm just going to take a quick look at you, all right?" Her voice is steady, certain to introduce herself before she reaches to gently cradling the back of Verity's head in one hand, digging out a battered penlight from her pocket with the other. She taps it on with a thumb and flashes it quickly into Verity's eyes. She doesn't doubt Verity's concussed; it's just a matter of how bad. "I'm a friend of Ratchet's, he called me over. Can you tell me your name?"