sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
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Jul 25, 2016 23:26:55 GMT
Post by sigma on Jul 25, 2016 23:26:55 GMT
the headache is from the hoops he’s having to jump through, he knows. he’d put money on it if he was a gambling man. as it stands he’s just a man being forced to do ridiculous tests to prove that he isn’t brain-damaged.
okay, he admits the op wasn’t the smoothest - a group, rather than the one ringleader dispatch had known about - and jake’s skull did get acquainted much more closely with a huge block of rebar than he’d like, but it’s nothing. blood in his hair, sure, but the wound is already closing and his lack of focus is nothing that he can’t attribute to post-fight glycogen crashing, so all he wants is just to leave. go home and take a bath or something, sleep for a week.
it’s not fair to take it out on the initiative medical staff, he knows, but jake’s always hated the experience of being in medical care - it’s the one thing that can make him feel slow and stupid, and he places way too much value on absolute control of his body to be comfortable with any sort of implication that something he can’t change is happening to it. so, yeah, it makes him pissy. the company is just the icing on the cake.
“are you done now with this? can i go?” the sigma jumpsuit is unzipped to jake’s waist, tied at the sleeves to allow access to a twitch in his back that he told them was hypoglycaemic, and the overall effect is rather true to the fact that an hour ago he was - well, having huge pieces of concrete launched at him, appropriately. the bruises are beginning to bloom all up his arms and under the neckline of the white tank, his hair is rumpled, he has cuts in his hairline and across his eyebrow.
he looks altogether a little too beaten-up to be quite as defiant as he is, but here he is.
“i keep telling you people i’m fine.” he gets to his feet to leave - nothing short of an act of god is keeping him here, he swears. “i’ll come back in for whatever physical you want me to do tomorrow, okay, but right now i just wanna be alone.”
he just wants to go home.
Dr. Maddison
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Post by Dr. Maddison on Jul 26, 2016 2:10:50 GMT
[attr="class","dtit"]THE DOCTOR IS IN |
[attr="class","hotdcon"]
Reuben just loved it when he was called down from the office to do routine examinations that literally anybody else with a basic knowledge of neurology could perform. Unfortunately, he was the only person with a basic knowledge of neurology in the HQ at that time of day, so down the death trap elevators he went, all the way into the infirmary, where he was greeted by his favorite pile of muscles.
”No, I’m not done, but I would be done faster if you would stop acting like a toddler who hasn’t napped and just sit still!”
The exam went as well as expected.
Stuck in the infirmary rather than an office, he was forced to speed through the routine just to keep Sigma on the bed. Of course, the moment Reuben thought he had a lead, the hero decided he was ready to go. His annoyed furrowed brows turn to full-faced irritation when the younger man stands.
”You’re not fine,” the doctor insists. He wheels himself directly in Jake’s path. As much as he wanted to get rid of the man, it was his job to keep him--and all the heroes--in fighting shape. If the boy scout seized mid-mission because of some unnoticed brain injury, it would be on his shoulders. He wasn’t going to let a pigheaded hero keep him from doing his job, even if he wanted to be there even less than Reuben did. (Maybe a while ago, he’d be more inclined to be stuck in the infirmary with the southern belle and nobody else, but if the grapevine was to be believed, his chances were gone now)
”You were just smacked in the head with enough concrete to build this shitty building a new foundation. Trauma like that is serious business, regardless of whatever superhuman physiology you’ve got going on under that ridiculous jumpsuit of yours.” It was a miracle he convinced Sigma to peel that thing off, allowing him a good look at the muscle twitch and the sculpted expanse of his back. Reuben stares defiantly up at the A-rank hero, arms crossed. ”This isn’t something that can be fixed with carbs and a sports drink, Jacob. Sit back down so I can diagnose you, then you can stab yourself with as many needles full of Pixie Stix as you’d like.”
Or get an MRI, like the good doctor was leaning towards recommending, but even he knew that was pushing it.
 | [attr="class","hotdtag"] sigma || xxx words [attr="class","hotdnote"]note |
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sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
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Jul 26, 2016 10:38:58 GMT
Post by sigma on Jul 26, 2016 10:38:58 GMT
it’s not like he doesn’t know he’s being childish, engaging in all the macho no-doctor bullshit he usually hates, but jake’s patience isn’t infinite. it happens to be especially limited in the presence of the medical director, and that’s not his fault.
right?
he gets why he has to be there - it’s late, nervous system stuff is specialised, probably nobody else who can do it - but he can’t not be rubbed the wrong way at all times while maddison is there. jake’s not proud of himself, but ten years of the navy’s particular interpersonal politics have taught him exactly two things: when someone pushes you, you push back, and that civilian contractors are full of shit without exception. neither are particularly conducive to a sunshine-and-rainbows friendship, especially when everything about the other man screams distaste.
he pulls up sharply short to avoid kicking the wheelchair - it’s not like he’s going to do all that much damage, as fatigued as he is, but best not - and draws himself up straight, heaving a pointed sigh. “there’s nothing to diagnose,” he affirms sharply, stepping in a tight arc around behind the chair to avoid any further attempts at roadblocks. the use of his given name visibly ratchets up the tension in the broad shoulders, but escape is feeling like a better choice than staying here and arguing for however long it’s gonna take. "i don't care, doc, i'm going home and the tests can wait." he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t ca-
zzzt.
it takes a second after the blackout for the emergency lights to come up, the soft red glow of them in the dark, and the various machines go back to softly humming after two, but jake stays frozen with his hand on the metal door-release push-plate.
oh my god, are you serious?
a second goes by. two. the silence is broken only by a single soft word.
“fuck.”
Dr. Maddison |
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Jul 26, 2016 16:52:16 GMT
Post by Dr. Maddison on Jul 26, 2016 16:52:16 GMT
Nothing to diagnose?! "Oh, right, I forgot." Words dripping with sarcasm and a hint of venom for nearly kicking his chair, Reuben turns in place. "Your powers include the ability to rule out every single neurological possibility at once. Can't believe that slipped my mind! Yeah, I guess I'll just let you make your own medical diagnosises, because my degrees and decades of experience obviously don't mean anything in this situation."He was just a tiny bit bitter about the whole thing. He followed the tall man all the way to the door. "You're not, so wait just a damn minute--"Just like that, the whole infirmary went black, and the doctor fell silent. A sickening déjà vu crawled up his spine. The emergency lights bathed them in a red glow that perfectly outlined the eerie calm on Reuben's features. "Watch your language, fuckboy," he said, as if telling Sigma the weather. He rolled back a few feet, giving the other ample room to dropkick the door or whatever else he wanted to try, and fished his phone out of his coat pocket. Dr. Maddison dialed a number and held it to his ear. "Hi June, this is Maddison. Would you mine telling me what in the FUCK IS GOING ON--yes, I'm okay, why wouldn't I be... Security malfunction? What good is a goddam security system if it goes on lockdown when somebody looks at it funny?! You tell--no, you tell maintenance--... Christ, alright, we'll hang tight." He wished he had a flip phone for the express purpose of slamming it shut. Instead, he tapped the end call button with indignation. His thumb hovered over another contact's picture before tentatively pressing it. The silence of an unanswered call lasted longer this time, leaving him with a voicemail. He turned in place, facing away from Sigma to leave a hushed message. "I'll be home later than usual. My phone's dying, so I can't answer your texts. No friends over til I'm there. Order some pizza or something. Make sure your brother doesn't do anything stupider than usual, alright? Love you both. Bye."He ended the call calmer than last time, and tucked the smartphone back into his pocket. "Now. Will you get back on the bed, or do you want to try ramming the door first?"sigma on mobile. I'll format it when I get home, sorry |
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sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
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Post by sigma on Jul 27, 2016 1:31:22 GMT
when he puts his mind to something little fazes him, so the continued diatribe bounces off jake apparently without registering. he is consciously aware but at the same time he doesn’t give a shit, so there’s not even a single flicker on his features. not until the outage.
the sheer look of offence that finds jake’s face is almost comical - dumbfounded, taken by surprise, the outrage at the hypocrisy, they all join together into something that draws his brows together and leave his mouth hanging open.
the goddamn nerve -
he can’t well retaliate when the other man is on the phone, so jake takes a look at the door. it’s not opening up on its own, he knows as much from his superficial knowledge of the building’s systems, and he’s too run-down to do much of anything as far as brute force goes. the wall is probably weaker than the security door.
jake checks his watch and actually groans aloud. his luck is incredibly bad today, it looks like.
he stays quiet for the end of the second call, eyes averted. it feels weird to overhear this kind of thing, like it’s a secret he shouldn’t be in on - he’s always been vaguely aware that maddison is divorced, but he hadn’t realised there were kids.
it makes the guy seem somewhat more human. jake is on board with this exactly zero per cent.
“door’s not budging,” he replies shortly, tone sharply clipped. there’s a moment of visible hesitation, conflict in jake as he weighs disobedience with what he actually should do, before he moves back over to the bed and sits slowly.
“if i pass out on you then it’s your problem.”
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Jul 28, 2016 19:54:48 GMT
Post by Dr. Maddison on Jul 28, 2016 19:54:48 GMT
The first thing that stands out to Reuben is that he got away with calling Sigma a fuckboy. His daughter would be so proud for him using such hip and modern lingo, and he was proud of himself for escaping that unscathed. The second thing that stands out is how straight-up offended the other man is, like somebody didn't properly fold the flag in his presence. If he wasn't so irritated, he'd take a picture and laugh at it.
He appreciates the boy scout having enough peace of mind to hold his tongue til he's done leaving a message. "Well, that's surprising," the doctor lies. Last time he locked himself out of his office, it took two crowbars and a favor from a super mutant to get him back in--he knows first hand how impossible those doors are.
The third, and final thing, that surprises him is how willingly Sigma trudges back to the bed. No bribery, no more threats, just a defeated flop onto the threadbare sheets and rock hard mattress.
"I don't think it would be much of a problem." Leisurely, the doctor rolls his way over to the hero. "It'd be easier to examine you, see if any of those muscle twitches persist while you're unconscious. I could get your physical out of the way for the year, too." The way he says it makes it sound more like a friendly offer than a threat. Reuben wouldn't mind if he got up close and personal with those muscles, honestly.
He comes to a stop against the bed, which was set lower than normal to accommodate him. "Now, if I test your reflexes, will you promise not to kick me?"
sigma (mobile posting is terrible rip)
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sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
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Jul 28, 2016 22:37:02 GMT
Post by sigma on Jul 28, 2016 22:37:02 GMT
he shoots the doctor the look, the sigma Look, unimpressed. he can tell the other man doesn’t believe what he himself is saying, and as much as he tries not to let it irritate him it always does. “they’re designed to keep people like me out, doc, they ain’t gonna budge even if i were in condition.” the faint note of the carolina accent is starting to rise, and jake consciously schools his voice back into neutrality. this is no time to drop his guard. “or to keep people like me in if they become a risk. it’s in the security brief.”
his posture as he sits is still perfect, bolt-upright, shoulders level and his spine aligned. habit. “no offence, doctor,” he says, meaning every offence possible, “but you wouldn’t be able to even move me if i weren’t cooperating.” after all, jake weighs two-fifty pounds and then some, and a scrawny pencil-pusher like maddison has a snowball’s chance in hell even without the handicap of wheels for leverage. “i don’t have a problem with showing up for my physicals. the team that do ‘em are good people.”
there’s a faint undertone of accusation to that last sentence, but jake is too busy with his own phone, eyes down as he carefully types a text with a single fingertip. it takes him a good few moments, his tone distracted as he speaks. “i thought kicking was the point. i can’t promise anything.”
Dr. Maddison |
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Jul 31, 2016 18:43:18 GMT
Post by Dr. Maddison on Jul 31, 2016 18:43:18 GMT
[attr="class","dtit"]THE DOCTOR IS IN |
[attr="class","hotdcon"]
Ha, he said ain’t. ”If they’re anything like my office doors, you’d be surprised,” murmurs the doctor, restraining his grin to nothing more than a smirk that twitched the corner of his mouth. Security brief, shmecurity shmief, with the way this building was aging he knew for a fact that it was due for a revision. In the case of a superpowered attack from the inside, the safest place to be was, in his opinion, the maintenance room, because nobody went in there in the first place.
He watches the perfect boy scout get settled in the stereotypical soldier way, like Maddison was going to take a protractor to his spine. He rolls his shoulders and speaks without commitment to his words. ”Saying ‘no offense’ doesn’t cancel out the offensive part of whatever you’re about to say. I should tell HR you’re offending me.” He maneuvers the chair so that he’s directly in front of the other, and leans down to flick the manual lock on the wheels. The guy still had a point; even broad-shouldered Reuben, with toned arms from years of pushing his own weight, stood no chance against the immovable object that was the boy in blue. If he were to lock the wheels and push, his tires would wear out before Sigma noticed.
”Good people or not, they have missed a few things in the past.” Reuben was mostly talking to himself after losing the opportunity for a physical. He digs in his pocket, and removes a smaller reflex hammer with a rubber head. ”Moving gently is the point,” he corrects, casually feeling along Sigma’s right knee as he speaks, ”Twitching hard is a sign of something. Kicking is a sign of being an asshole.” His large hand lingers a few moments longer than necessary.
”If you feel anything unusual or can’t feel the hammer, tell me.” That said, he strikes the tendon just under the knee and begins the reflex portion of the exam.
| [attr="class","hotdtag"] sigma || xxx words [attr="class","hotdnote"]note |
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sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
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Post by sigma on Aug 8, 2016 18:10:50 GMT
his turn is a little too precise, a little too crisp, jake channelling his frustration into every tense fibre of his body. civilians, he thinks, with every uncharitable association he typically attaches to it. trust maddison to be a department head, responsible for so much and so negligent.
he’s vaguely aware he dislikes the man more every time he meets him. jake has never been good at personal neutrality, and the open disdain is as good a declaration of war as far as he’s concerned.
the blue eyes are cold as they flick to maddison’s, gaze hard and steady. “over your hurt feelings.” jake’s tone is flat, dry. “i’m sure they’ll be real sympathetic, doc.” he watches the fine positioning of the chair and might mentally admit maddison isn’t that scrawny by regular standards, given that not everyone is sigma, built like a brick wall, but he’s usually seeing the guy on a downward angle from as far away as physically possible.
“huh. you’d know.” it sounds neutral, and could entirely be in response to the explanation of the reflex test, but it isn’t intended to be. he even manages to keep his expression schooled as his eyes flick down to the hand on his knee and then immediately to the fixed midpoint in the horizon he’s comfortable with. if the asshole’s trying to psych him out, he won’t allow it.
his foot bobs up gently at the strike of the hammer. “how long is this gonna take? i might be stuck here but that doesn’t mean i want to be sitting with you hitting me with tiny hammers ‘til the maintenance crew get here.”
Dr. Maddison |
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Post by Dr. Maddison on Aug 19, 2016 5:13:37 GMT
[attr="class","dtit"]THE DOCTOR IS IN |
[attr="class","hotdcon"]
”So I’m guessing you’re not wanting to talk to HR about this?” Maddison didn’t blame him, really. HR was a pain for anybody to deal with, superpowered or not, and it wasn’t like Jake seemed especially willing to do anything involving him. He wasn’t serious in the first place, anyway.
A bushy eyebrow quirks at the snarky comment. His gut reaction is to take it the wrong way; yeah, sure, because he can’t kick, that must mean he’s anything but an asshole. He swore he felt the sarcasm dripping off the statement and sizzling on the cold tile floor. His lips purse as he assures himself that, no, Sigma wasn’t trying to get a rise out of him. Unlike the doctor himself, Sigma was a good person that didn’t get his kicks from messing with people. If anything, he looked uncomfortable, the way his gaze flicked from the hand to some invisible point in space. Reuben mentally debates letting up on the guy, and then he starts complaining.
”It’ll take longer the more you whine,” the doctor chides, as if he were talking to a kid, ”so I suggest you nut up and shut up.” Another strike, right on the tendon of the opposite knee. He was a true professional. ”You’re worse than Ellie and Gabe, and that’s saying something when a grown man grumbles more than a pair of teenagers.”
Reuben has to lean forward for the next portion of the test. He grips Sigma’s right arm with his right so that his thumb is nestled in the crook of his elbow. ”For this, I need you to relax, alright?” He squeezes the tense muscles there to accentuate his point and also maybe cop a feel. ”Or else I’ll be hitting you with a tiny hammer even more and we’ll both be irritated when I’m just making sure your nervous system’s in shape.” After a few moments, he brings the hammer down gently on his thumb, the vibrations traveling to the correct tendon and hopefully making the other flex.
| [attr="class","hotdtag"] sigma || xxx words [attr="class","hotdnote"]WOW i am sorry with the delay, real life kicked my ass |
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