if you pray to god for rain, don't you complain about the lightning

[asafepairofhands]

Who: Ratchet and YOU and also whoever else wants to set up threads in here
What: Ratchet's limping around on crutches, feel free to put yourself in the line of fire
Where: Red Alert's clinic
When: A little while after Drift is conscious
Warnings: YELLING? yelling probably


Well, it had been a few days and nobody had nearly died again so Ratchet starts to let himself relax a little.

Not much, mind--Drift and Nautica are still bedridden, if not critical, and there are people in and out all the time. This is completely ignoring the fact that Pharma and Tarn are wandering around out there somewhere, probably terrorizing the general populace or maiming things or doing whatever else psychotic killers do in their clearly abundant free time. Ratchet has no such luxury, and he works, maintaining the patients he already has on top of trying to handle anyone else who comes in the door. He's just not necessarily pleasant about it.

Comments

[whatbedsidemanners]

Not that he was maintaining them by himself, of course, as Red Alert was there too. Somehow she's managed to avoid being a part of the worst of the drama, and instead focused on keeping her head down and her patients alive. Considering how few of them there were, she wasn't entirely surprised that her medical clinic saw so much use.

"Have you slept?" She asked, her voice as curt and cold as usual as she glanced Ratchet over.

[asafepairofhands]

"Enough," Ratchet replies, nodding. He feels a little guilty--he's grown accustomed to maintaining a medibay almost by himself, with First Aid's habitual moping and Ambulon's... absence. Having another medic constantly present is throwing him a little, but the more he works with Red Alert the more he likes her, and her no-nonsense attitude is more refreshing than it is anything else. He doesn't stop cleaning the tools he's working on. "Have you run into Pharma yet? I figure I should warn you."

[whatbedsidemanners]

Likewise, Red Alert approved of Ratchet's obvious medical skill and attitude. She even admired his ability to care about the patients, something she was not so good at. Bedside manners was never a top concern for her. It was very lucky for her that he was here.

"Pharma? I don't know anyone by that name. Someone I should be concerned about, I assume?"

A medic, she figures, with a name like that.

[asafepairofhands]

"Yeah. Used to be, anyway." Ratchet snorts, looking away. "We went to school together. I--"

He stops, pauses, struggles for a moment, shakes his head.

"Look, I won't get into all the gory details, but he's killed patients since then. A lot of them. I don't know if he'll come sniffing around, but he's bad news. I wanted to let you know before you found out the hard way. ...he killed a colleague recently, one he'd worked with for years, and left him for me to try and fix. He's not pleasant."