October
when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and the road has been too long
You don't explain. Why you're making sex jokes right now to a former prostitute is beyond you. Later, maybe, in talking to Falke, you might realize you're more nervous around Finn than you let on. For now though, you just shake your head as you grab your things and get to work.
"Well, that is about to be put to the test." You hum brightly, wishing that his words convinced either of you. As he rallies against you, all you can do is focus and work faster. "I know, I know." Your murmur, your entire demeanour making it seem as though you're treating a wounded animal. Had you more hands you'd have held his arm so that he wouldn't have had to, you'd smooth back the curls from his face, you'd press into the muscles of his shoulders to force them to relax. You don't though, and the two you have are focused entirely on their task, leaving nothing of you available to soothe your patient.
You hear Falke's voice as well and for just a moment you let your hands softly hover in midair, indecision, surprisingly, freezing you in place. There's relief in the pit of your stomach, relief because gods if you haven't let all of this get too far. Whatever you've done to help Finn's body, you've harmed his mind in the process. You aren't even entirely sure how which is indicative of why you shouldn't be the one to treat him now. But you're also worried; not as a doctor, but as a friend.
"Fuck." You sing under your breath, the curse word a heavy and awkward sound in your mouth. Closing your eyes for just a second and exhaling an unsteady breath, you place your hand on one of Finn's shoulders. "It will be alright." You whisper.
Since when are you in the habit of giving false hope? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Rising, you move to the door. It's unlocked but closed. Pulling it open, you pop your head out to see Falke standing there. "We've...had an accident. We need to get him down to the clinic." This is said with a bit of a wince, realizing that Falke has just walked all the way up here. But in order to operate on Finn's hand, they'll need everything at their disposal. Not wanting to give too much detail, but needing Falke to know the extent of Finn's mental and physical state, you grimly bite at your lower lip, shaking your head. Your dark eyes are stormy with worry and apprehension. Hopefully he gets the message.
"Well, that is about to be put to the test." You hum brightly, wishing that his words convinced either of you. As he rallies against you, all you can do is focus and work faster. "I know, I know." Your murmur, your entire demeanour making it seem as though you're treating a wounded animal. Had you more hands you'd have held his arm so that he wouldn't have had to, you'd smooth back the curls from his face, you'd press into the muscles of his shoulders to force them to relax. You don't though, and the two you have are focused entirely on their task, leaving nothing of you available to soothe your patient.
You hear Falke's voice as well and for just a moment you let your hands softly hover in midair, indecision, surprisingly, freezing you in place. There's relief in the pit of your stomach, relief because gods if you haven't let all of this get too far. Whatever you've done to help Finn's body, you've harmed his mind in the process. You aren't even entirely sure how which is indicative of why you shouldn't be the one to treat him now. But you're also worried; not as a doctor, but as a friend.
"Fuck." You sing under your breath, the curse word a heavy and awkward sound in your mouth. Closing your eyes for just a second and exhaling an unsteady breath, you place your hand on one of Finn's shoulders. "It will be alright." You whisper.
Since when are you in the habit of giving false hope? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Rising, you move to the door. It's unlocked but closed. Pulling it open, you pop your head out to see Falke standing there. "We've...had an accident. We need to get him down to the clinic." This is said with a bit of a wince, realizing that Falke has just walked all the way up here. But in order to operate on Finn's hand, they'll need everything at their disposal. Not wanting to give too much detail, but needing Falke to know the extent of Finn's mental and physical state, you grimly bite at your lower lip, shaking your head. Your dark eyes are stormy with worry and apprehension. Hopefully he gets the message.
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong
for the lucky and the strong
