09-29-2017, 03:34 PM
They lose Sepúlveda somewhere between the sippy cup and the cheesecake.
He's ghastly pale beneath the sorry excuse for an overhead light someone installed at some point in the house's history. His salted-black hair is drenched with sweat and he's shivering like he just walked out of a meat locker. His arm is completely fucked, the full extent of the damage concealed by the fact that he wore more than a couple of layers out on this venture tonight. At some point his eyeglasses broke. That's the least of his concerns.
Once the bathroom is cleared he kicks the door shut and drops into a heap on the floor. He uses the toe of his boot, again, to open the cabinet door and confirm that his black bag is where he left it. He has to grit his teeth to work up the nerve to lean forward and grab it. Now that he doesn't have an audience he's less concerned with keeping his shit together "for the kids."
He keeps his shit together for the sake of his arm. He has to snip off the clothing below the tourniquet to get a look at his arm, figure out where the best place to inject the healing serum is going to be. There's not much left to salvage. His upper arm caught a blow that was meant for someone's neck. That person is welcome. If this were someone else and they rolled into his exam room, Sepúlveda would wonder what kind of shitty fucking ER doctor let him bleed to death.
Sepúlveda is a phenomenal forensic pathologist, not even a shitty fucking ER doctor. He grabs a towel and jams it between his teeth so when he screams, the kids can't hear it. Regrowing nerve endings are angry little bastards. It hurts. A lot. They can however hear him bang his head against the bathroom wall a couple of times before silence returns to his corner of the house.
That could have been a lot worse.
Panting, he lets the towel go and wiggles his fingers to make sure everything works the way it's supposed to. He flips the floor the bird, satisfied with his work, then jams the heels of his hands into his closed eyes as his endorphins crash and allow cortisol to flood in. Saltwater stings his eyes and he sobs, once, before sitting back up and deciding that okay, his shit is back together.
He washes his hands, staining the sink with blood, then grabs his black bag and opens the door.
So who needs immediate attention--
"SHUT UP AND LET ME WORK, EDWARD."
He barrels into the study like nothing happened and finally gets a good look at Margot.
"Is it prom night already?"
---
Harv's iPad thingie wouldn't let him stamp it but here are the rolls they really happened
Denver @ 3:10PM
One does not simply walk into Dedicated Dicing Den, Witness!.
Denver @ 3:12PM
Doc has wandered unwittingly into the dangers of Dedicated Dicing Den, hoo hoo ha haaa >:]
Doc @ 3:14PM
[int + med: aw christ what a mess. spec: frankensteinian technique.]
Roll: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 6 ) [Doubling Tens]
Doc @ 3:16PM
[life 2: physician heal thyself. vulgar base diff 6, -3 for the medicine roll.]
Roll: 3 d10 TN3 (3, 5, 9) ( success x 3 )
Doc @ 3:16PM
EAT A DICK REAPER YOU AIN'T SHIT
He's ghastly pale beneath the sorry excuse for an overhead light someone installed at some point in the house's history. His salted-black hair is drenched with sweat and he's shivering like he just walked out of a meat locker. His arm is completely fucked, the full extent of the damage concealed by the fact that he wore more than a couple of layers out on this venture tonight. At some point his eyeglasses broke. That's the least of his concerns.
Once the bathroom is cleared he kicks the door shut and drops into a heap on the floor. He uses the toe of his boot, again, to open the cabinet door and confirm that his black bag is where he left it. He has to grit his teeth to work up the nerve to lean forward and grab it. Now that he doesn't have an audience he's less concerned with keeping his shit together "for the kids."
He keeps his shit together for the sake of his arm. He has to snip off the clothing below the tourniquet to get a look at his arm, figure out where the best place to inject the healing serum is going to be. There's not much left to salvage. His upper arm caught a blow that was meant for someone's neck. That person is welcome. If this were someone else and they rolled into his exam room, Sepúlveda would wonder what kind of shitty fucking ER doctor let him bleed to death.
Sepúlveda is a phenomenal forensic pathologist, not even a shitty fucking ER doctor. He grabs a towel and jams it between his teeth so when he screams, the kids can't hear it. Regrowing nerve endings are angry little bastards. It hurts. A lot. They can however hear him bang his head against the bathroom wall a couple of times before silence returns to his corner of the house.
That could have been a lot worse.
Panting, he lets the towel go and wiggles his fingers to make sure everything works the way it's supposed to. He flips the floor the bird, satisfied with his work, then jams the heels of his hands into his closed eyes as his endorphins crash and allow cortisol to flood in. Saltwater stings his eyes and he sobs, once, before sitting back up and deciding that okay, his shit is back together.
He washes his hands, staining the sink with blood, then grabs his black bag and opens the door.
So who needs immediate attention--
"SHUT UP AND LET ME WORK, EDWARD."
He barrels into the study like nothing happened and finally gets a good look at Margot.
"Is it prom night already?"
---
Harv's iPad thingie wouldn't let him stamp it but here are the rolls they really happened
Denver @ 3:10PM
One does not simply walk into Dedicated Dicing Den, Witness!.
Denver @ 3:12PM
Doc has wandered unwittingly into the dangers of Dedicated Dicing Den, hoo hoo ha haaa >:]
Doc @ 3:14PM
[int + med: aw christ what a mess. spec: frankensteinian technique.]
Roll: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 6 ) [Doubling Tens]
Doc @ 3:16PM
[life 2: physician heal thyself. vulgar base diff 6, -3 for the medicine roll.]
Roll: 3 d10 TN3 (3, 5, 9) ( success x 3 )
Doc @ 3:16PM
EAT A DICK REAPER YOU AIN'T SHIT
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon
-- ixphaelaeon