2011 06 14: Superficial Wounds

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Mission Name: Superficial Wounds
Date of Mission: June 14, 2011
Locale: Medical Bay - Division HQ

Jezebel and Crewe talk about some superficial wounds, and some that are maybe not so superficial.

Jezebel Crewe

It's been a long day of training and as such, Jezebel currently lies on a cot in the med bay of the facility, getting her abdomen stitched up by a nurse. She's got a fat lip and a few superficial facial wounds that seem to suggest a sparring match got way out of hand. She's taking the pain like a tough girl though and doesn't seem to mind the fact that she's lying there. Perhaps she's doped up, perhaps not. The nurse looks at Jezebel every few seconds before returning to her work. "You might want to stay lying down for a few more minutes," The nurse says before she ties her stitching off and moves away to deal with more pressing matters. Jezebel simply nods and reaches up to touch her lip. "Jesus Christ, I am going to have to say that my boyfriend beat me."

"It's not so bad, really. Put on your eye makeup right and say he beats you and you can get everyone's sympathy," comes a sing-songy voice from the other side of the med bay. Part treatment, part volunteer, Jessica is sitting in a chair with a line in her arm. It's attached to a bag of saline solution, draining steadily to rehydrate after a distance run seems to have gone just a lot too long. She's still a little red in the face, having been braving some of the summer heat that has been hesitant to break. Division-issue shorts, t-shirt, and sneaks make up her attire, sans any icons.

"Lance may have been onto something the other day when he mentioned authorities." Jezebel says, though she grins. "But I'll keep that in mind in case the need ever arises." The brunette starts to fidget a little bit before she grows still once more, tilting her head over toward Crewe. "What're you doing here? You don't look hurt…" The brunette muses a touch too innocently. She's definitely prying for details, but then — Crewe doesn't look hurt, does she? "The one thing I could never get over was the needles. You must be braver than I am. Just now when that nurse was stitching me, I had to think of happy thoughts."

"Needles? They're like…well, they're just slower, sharper bullets, I guess. There's nothing wrong with that. This though," Crewe replies while lifting up the arm with the needle taped in for the fluids. "Heat stroke. Kinda sucks. Feels like a heart attack while you have to puke and can't walk because your legs are like rubber. I tried to double my run today. It was pretty stupid." Her lips get pressed together a bit and she hmmms. "Hindsight's like…perfect twenty-twenty vision though. I mean, still not as good as a scoped shot, but pretty good!"

The comparison of needles to sharper, slower bullets makes Jezebel turn faintly green around the gills before it passes. Now the young woman must not only endeavor not to get shot or shots. "I'm sure that somewhere, one of the higher ups is applauding your dedication or whatever the Hell they do when someone pushes themselves overboard in the name of Division," Jezebel quips with a smirk. After she sees that the nurse has gone out of her field of vision, Jezebel sits up on the cot. She doesn't throw her legs over the edge and simply gets her bearings, reaching downward to run her fingers over the new stitches. "Ugh. Water soluble, I'm hoping…" Jez says before she looks over to Crewe. "I don't think red is your color."

"Only on my lips, I think!" Jessica giggles back…even puckering up a little bit. "What, afraid to get those stitches cut out? I thought you had a thing for knives. You know, the way I have a thing for guns," the dehydrated chick inquires in reference to watching Jezebel bouncing up at down at the mention of knives the other day. Oh, Jessica's got some sharp eyes, and she's a damn good observer too.

"Knives, yes. Stitches, no. I like being stabbed by knives considerably less than I enjoy stabbing with them. One of the recruits got the best of me down there…" She's loathe to admit it, but there it is. Jezebel grimaces when she admits that a youngster got her at her own game. She eyes the other woman for a moment. "Yeah, you'd look pretty bitchin' in red lipstick, I guess." It's a begrudging sort of compliment, but a genuine one all the same. Seems Jez is still trying to figure out how to take the blonde. "I wouldn't say I like knives as much as you like guns, though… I prefer a Molotov cocktail."

"Red is much better on the lips than it is on the hands, you know." Jessica's voice has gone rather quiet now, and she talks in a low and serious way. While she sits back in the chair, she holds both her hands up and looks at the palms, spinning them around to look at the back, the short-cut nails. "Sometimes not even soap can get rid of all the red, no matter how much you wash."

Jezebel considers Jessica's words for a long moment before simply nodding. "I don't guess I would be an expert about it. Most of my killing is long-range. I blow things up. I set things on fire. I don't put much thought into who's actually in the building." Now that she is, Jezebel is just depressed by it all. She frowns and swings her legs off of the cot, not letting her toes touch the ground. "I can count the number of times I've ever had to worry about cleaning the blood off of my clothes. I burned them later anyway."

"The police took mine. They…had to put them into evidence, you know? Then it was nothing but orange jumpsuits after that. Coming here was the first time in a long time that I got to wear any normal clothes. Sometimes, I wonder if normal clothes are actually normal for me. Maybe it should still be jumpsuits. I've done bad things because they needed to be done, and I do bad things because they need to be done. The bad thing about it is that I kind of like it." Over the normal sounds of the medical bay, Jessica's words can barely be heard. She's not looking up and she's not speaking at Jezebel either.

When Jessica told Jezebel not to pry into her story the last time they spoke, Jez didn't. And now she stares at the girl with some mixture of horror and fascination. The parts of Crewe's dialogue that she can make out are rapidly devoured. "I was put in a jumpsuit once too. I did my time and now I'm here. Doing more. What can you do?" She asks, shrugging her shoulders. Either she's ignoring the last bit about Crewe liking the bad things she does, or she's not heard it. The brunette finally gets to her feet, taking a few wobbly steps away from the cot. "Good thing that cut wasn't deeper. The tank top was covered in blood as it was…"

With Jezebel standing, Crewe finally looks up and pays more attention to the wounds. "Knives are dangerous, don't you know that? People can get hurt!" Clearly an understatement, clearly with some hidden meaning, and definitely emphasized by the way Jessica just giggles a bit as she recalls just what the hidden meaning really is. "Do you ever think your time will ever be served?" Jessica asks, slipping right back into a serious conversation tone once more.

"I'm not delusional. I know that my lifespan is going to be short and that I'm here for life. There's no chance of me ever getting out. So… no. My time will never be served. But at least I get to light fires." It seems a happy compromise for Jezebel, but it's said in a sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek manner. She fans herself with one hand and tries to step away from the cot at a snail's pace. "If knives weren't dangerous, I probably wouldn't like them. I only like things that are bad for me."

"Sounds like you should try plastic explosives, cigarettes, and unprotected sex if those are the things you like." All the while the conversation's been going, that bag of fluid that's seen in every admitted hospital patient's arm the world over is getting less and less full. With the top of the bag flattening out, the fluid running right low, her color back to normal, and her aches starting to abate, Jessica undoes the tape holding the line in her arm down, grits her teeth, and pulls the thing free.

There are some things that can make even 'seasoned' spies cringe. Apparently the removal of one's IV is enough for Jezebel. She nods her head briefly at Crewe before waving. "Well, I need to get out of here before my shift at the coffee place starts. Damn if I ever don't want to go in today." Jez shakes her head and takes in a deep breath. "Nice to see you again, Blondie. Don't do anything I wouldn't around here…" That might limit Crewe a little bit. But at least it does leave explosions open to her.

"So that's why you're so jittery, huh? A little caffeine junkie?" Jessica has decided that it's time for her to leave too, since she's feeling better and there's nobody else in here to converse with. Hitting the showers, then hitting one of the other training rooms or maybe even the books might be a pretty easy way to end the day. Since she makes no pretense at having a cover at the moment, it's all just down the hall. Convenient!

"The stuff is starting to turn my stomach," Jezebel comments as she heads off toward the locker room, letting out a chuckle.

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