we're always running scared but holding knives
"Slow breaths," Isla is already warning Remi, because a panic attack from hyperventilation right out the gates isn't going to be something she imagines he's keen to repeat. "Count to four in, and four out. You don't need to speak right now, but I just want to take some vitals, okay?"
The rest of her equipment is already in hand, the doctor taking his hand and wrist to check his pulse and temperature. Unsurprised to find it absolutely average but feeling giddy about it nonetheless, she releases him and sits back in the chair.
"How are you doing?" she asks. "Take it slow, okay? Your senses will probably feel dulled until everything settles. Let me know if you feel ill, or if you need to lay down." Really speaking there should have been a lot more people presents, a lot more tests done, a lot more equipment, but Isla feels like offering Remi a slice of hope on his first day back in prison is more important.
The rest of her equipment is already in hand, the doctor taking his hand and wrist to check his pulse and temperature. Unsurprised to find it absolutely average but feeling giddy about it nonetheless, she releases him and sits back in the chair.
"How are you doing?" she asks. "Take it slow, okay? Your senses will probably feel dulled until everything settles. Let me know if you feel ill, or if you need to lay down." Really speaking there should have been a lot more people presents, a lot more tests done, a lot more equipment, but Isla feels like offering Remi a slice of hope on his first day back in prison is more important.
Isla
