Description: Tags: George
Nicholas Miles - February 2, 2012 05:29 AM (GMT)
You never knew how bad living sucked until you were healing from major injuries. He ran the gamut – three fractured ribs, internal bleeding, fibia and tibia both broken in a surprisingly clean manner. Still, he leaned forward, and the pain-killer induced haze was enough to blanket a lot of the hurt he had. They’d taken out his IV earlier in the day, since he could drink fluids on his own now that he was conscious. His face was less than pretty, though his split lip was nearly cleared up. All in all? He felt like crap, and he wasn’t supposed to move around. Even getting up to go to the bathroom was all kinds of lame, and required crutches.
They’d not had to operate on his leg, though he’d been given emergency surgery to treat the abdominal bleeding. His survival certainly wasn’t miraculous, but the level of violence had been a bit beyond what one would expect from a regular mugging. Both Kenny and his dad had been with him since he woke up, out of the drug induced stupor he’d been in. Apparently he’d been down for the emergency surgery and the day after. Turns out drugs give you an amazingly restful sleep. Three days worth of rest was all he could stand. Two asleep, one awake. This was day four in the hospital, and he was going nuts.
He’d had to give a police statement and everything, once his tongue stopped feeling like it was twice it’s regular size. Most of it had been complete and utter bull, because he was not about to tell anyone that an angel had descended from heaven to kick his ass. His brother had watched him skeptically, because he’d always been able to read Nick’s mind without trying, but he’d stayed quiet. Still, at this point, with the police gone, promising to find the group of people that had jumped him, he was able to rest again. Not that he wanted to.
His dad was up working in the lab, and his brother was out like a light next to his bed. Nick sympathized for him – it had to suck being a mind-reader in the hospital, surrounded by the sick and dying. Easing from his bed, he took a moment to orient himself as the wave of dizziness flushed through him. He leaned no weight on his busted leg, despite the cast on it. Rather, he used the wall and one foot to balance. Jumping was out of the question – even breathing too deeply hurt. Turned out when your ribs broke, everything around them hurt forever.
Or at least for a bunch of days.
He grumbled softly, as he reached for the crutches so he could be slightly more mobile than your average turtle, and slipped unhappily forward. The drugs did indeed make him feel a bit better, the pain reduced to a dull throb more than anything else, but every so often, if he jostled or moved the right way, the fuzzy appearance of pain became actual, full-fledged agony. He did not look forward to having to go without.
Still, he moved, glancing over his shoulder at his sleeping brother. Ah well, he'd be back, but if he didn't move, he was going to go crazy. Dressed in his hideous hospital gown and wearing the fuzzy blue bathroom robe his dad had brought from home, he moved in to the hall. The scent of antiseptic was thicker out here than in his room, which was kind of discomforting in its own right. Furrowing his brow, the battered boy crutched down the fluorescent hallway, a sock on his good foot.
Recovery sucked, and he was already good and tired of it. He jostled up next to a red-headed man, and tilted his head. He wore scrubs, which meant he was either about to get thrown back in bed or get the answer he wanted. "Uh... hey, you work here, right? Where's the cafeteria?" He asked, though his throat was raw. Blegh, he needed more to drink.
George Sands Jr. - February 4, 2012 08:56 PM (GMT)
[click above for outfit]
George had been running between the various rooms, wards and floors of the
hospital for the better part of the day, trying his best to make himself as useful as
he possibly could. It would seem whatever it was that was effecting the supernatural
creatures that resided in New York was getting a damn sight worse, with more and
more people being admitted as the result of vampire and other animal attacks. The
vampire attacks he had grown somewhat accustomed to now, but when he heard
the mutterings of animal attacks, it certainly put him a little bit more on edge than
usual – it sent his mind into overdrive trying to recall his last shift and whether or
not he had been guilty of attacking anything, although, his every so jumpy mind
confirmed that he was only guilty of attacking himself and a couple of other
were-animals, if anything, and even the wolf was willing to somewhat reluctantly
confirm that within him, giving him a slight sense of calm, at least for a little while.
He had finally found a little time for himself, meandering up a rather empty corridor,
considering taking a break while it was still relatively quiet for him. There was only
so much he could make himself useful before the actual doctors and nurses
(although, not so much the nurses, they were generally always quite happy for the
help) got irritated by his mere presence. He wasn't letting it get to him today – he
had grown accustomed to being under-appreciated, but he could at least say that
he'd been relatively useful today and was definitely earning his keep with his
performance, so to speak. Hands tucked into his pockets, eyes pretty much
completely fixed on his shoes, he didn't see the young man appear in the corridor. He
was only somewhat aware of someone else being around due to all of his senses
being pricked up at his presence. He slowly turned as he heard the kid addressing
him, at least, he assumed he was addressing him since they were the only ones in
He smiled brightly at the young man as he listened to his simple query. “Yeah, that
I do,” he answered pleasantly, a slight hint of sarcasm twisting his tone around a
little. He scowled in thought slightly before answering the second part of the query
that had been presented to him. “It's actually a couple of floors down from
here,” he began, eyes quickly scanning over the boy, taking in his current state of
being, remembering seeing him coming in a couple of days previous. “If you just
wait a second, I'll go fetch a wheelchair and take you down there,” he
offered, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of where he knew he
could find a chair. “Because I imagine you're not even supposed to be out of
bed, let alone walking around this place,” he continued in a rather teasing tone.
“You getting cabin fever already?” he asked with a friendly smile. He could
absolutely understand that, although, for different reasons other than being admitted
Nicholas Miles - February 7, 2012 10:01 PM (GMT)
Nick couldn’t stop the reflexive blush as the guy replied to his question. Yeah, he knew that he’d asked kind of a stupid question, but it hadn’t even dawned on him how silly it was asking someone who was wearing scrubs whether they worked in a hospital. Nodding, gingerly, he smiled – offense didn’t come easily to him, especially not right now. He was too wound-up-but-still-tired to get tugged in the wrong direction because someone pointed out how goofy he was.
Still, he told him where the cafeteria was, and Nick had been about to give him a simple thank you and be on his way. But the dreaded once-over came and went, and he could practically feel the ‘Go back to your room!’ flaring up around him. He was slightly shocked by the fact that it went the other direction. Rather than telling him off, he was offering to help him out. He nearly said no, that he could handle it on his own, but the general discomfort of the whole situation made sitting down and still getting somewhere sound like the best possible witchcraft.
“Uhm… yeah. I’d like that, if it won’t put you off. You looked kind of peaceful, and I just didn't think..." But breathing and talking was really tricky, and so he paused in his almost-tirade to take one. It was a gentle thing, though, a big contrast to the deep breath he might have taken otherwise. Leaning softly against the wall, he closed his eyes. Yes, he was not supposed to be up, and being up was making him feel wibbly. But the fact that he was no longer confined to the bed was making him feel emotionally uplifted. That stir-crazy feeling was slipping away.
"Thanks. I appreciate it." He finished, derailing his awkward train of thought. He did - the guy probably had better things to do than bus around injured teenagers that interrupted whatever moment of respite they got. Still, he was really glad for the offer, and more than ready to get out of the recovery ward. His brother was going to be pissed if he woke up, but for now, Nick was exhilarated at the idea of exploring the hospital, even if it was only for ten minutes.
Hospitals were not really what he considered a happy place, but he was going to make the best of an awkward situation. He'd hoped, vaguely, that now that he knew he was a fairy, he'd have some sort of magic healing skill or something - but for now he'd take hospital treatment. What choice did he have?
"I'm Nick." He offered, gently. "What's your name?" He asked, legitimately interested, not just being courteous. Anyone who was going to help him escape - even temporarily - was someone he totally wanted to know.
George Sands Jr. - February 12, 2012 08:11 PM (GMT)
[click above for outfit]
George smiled ever so pleasantly at the young boy, certain that the poor kid hadn't
actually expected such a response as the one he had received from the lowly
hospital porter. It was no lie that he had noticed that more than a few of the hospital
employees were less than pleasant, but he was having a relatively good day, the
wolf wasn't niggling at him and he was feeling positively human for the first time in
weeks. He tilted his head slightly as he observed the kid, who was obviously mulling
over his response. He shook his head slightly before responding in a tone as pleasant
as his smile. “It won't put me off at all – it's just hard to find peace around
here, so I find it where I can,” he began in response before shrugging slightly.
“Besides, if I take you down there, it'll keep me busy and you out of
trouble, so it's a win win as far as I'm concerned,” he finished with a light
chuckle, shaking his head slightly at the boy's next words. “Don't worry yourself
about it, honestly,” he answered brightly.
“Although, it's not every day I get thanks for doing my job, so I can tell
you that I appreciate the sentiment,” he added offhandedly before quickly
zipping off in order to fetch a wheelchair for the boy, thoroughly concerned at just
how quickly he seemed to be falling into a little sense of struggling. Finding a decent
chair and heading back to the kid, he slightly skidded to a halt as he returned to his
side, gesturing for the boy to sit down. He smiled again as the kid introduced himself.
“Well, it's very nice to meet you, Nick. I'm George,” he answered brightly,
introducing himself as well, still beaming in a friendly manner. There weren't many
friendly, smiling faces around the hospital and he was sure that this Nick had
probably noticed that by now. “So, would you like to go straight to the
cafeteria or should we take a few detours?” he offered in a childish manner,
understanding completely if Nick would want to get out of his room for a little while
longer than a trip to the cafeteria.
Nicholas Miles - February 13, 2012 04:06 AM (GMT)
Pleasant smiles were a welcome change, and Nick couldn’t help but return them. The pain meds were good enough that the casual throbs and stinging could be ignored, which was a bonus. Sure, he might look a bit pulpy, but it didn’t stop him from trying to be reflexively smiley. He leaned in to his crutches, definitely relying on them for balance. He wasn’t used to hopping about, and playing flamingo was doing hell to his balance. Still, when George came back with a wheelchair, Nick practically collapsed in to it. That on its own turned out to be a mistake – the sudden thump made his chest remind him precisely why he was in the hospital. He suppressed the groan – pain meds only did so much.
“I’m all for win-wins. I just had to get out of there.” Grinning, gently, despite the uncomfortable position and all that, he tugged his crutches in to his lap, so that he wouldn’t mess anything up. It would be weird, maneuvering with the extra length on the side of them, but he was just glad for the relaxed break from his room. “Hey, if you’re this nice to everyone, you’ve already got my doctor beat on bedside manner. Dr. Monroe is a jerk.” He shook his head a bit. “I don’t know why people wouldn’t thank you. Putting up with doctors and patients all day must make you crazy.” Yet, here they were, doing the arguably less safe thing, but the one thing he’d rather be doing than sitting alone with his unconscious brother trying to pretend the TV was interesting. He glanced up at George, craning his neck slightly to see him. “What part of England are you from?” He asked, being entirely too personal, but he had been itching to ask about his accent since he heard it. “Unless you’re not, then I’m sorry for making assumptions.” He added, realizing he could just have parents with a pronounced English accent. He would blame his overzealous question on the drugs. Yeah, the drugs.
Then? George asked about detours. “Oh man, you read my mind.” He said, with a half grin. It was only funny because his brother often did. The butthead. “All sorts of detours. Anything to stay out of that room for a while. If I miss a meeting with the doctor, all the better.” He didn’t know when the doctor would show up to poke and prod at his ribs or his stomach under the pretext of checking for swelling. He was bruised all over… of course there was swelling. Stomach stitches didn’t help the situation, either. Shaking his head a bit, he pondered. “What sort of places can we visit in a hospital?” He asked, curiously. He didn’t want to interfere with anyone else’s doctor, though he could probably guess at the bedside manner they were receiving, too. He didn’t know how long he could keep George as his distraction, but hey, the guy was being brilliant, and he was genuinely enjoying the company and new face.
He took half a deep breath before deciding that was a terrible idea, and just slipped his arms into his lap, around his crutches. “How long have you worked here?”
George Sands Jr. - February 18, 2012 01:02 AM (GMT)
[click above for outfit]
George winced slightly as he watched Nick collapse into the chair. He was apparently
in a much worse condition than he had originally observed and being on his feet
probably hadn't helped. “It seems like someone needs some stronger pain
medication,” he commented, patting the poor kid's shoulder gently. “I'm sure I
can sort something out for you on our way round, if you'd like,” he offered
with another pleasant smile before he started pushing the wheelchair down the
corridor. He half nodded, half shook his head slightly before speaking again. “Oh, I
don't blame you,” he began in a rather quick response. “I'm the same and I've
worked in hospitals for a while,” he continued in an explanation of sorts,
shrugging slightly. “Although, I think that's what makes it worse: I know
what it's like to be on both sides of the situation,” he finished, visibly cringing
at the idea. He hadn't been on the receiving end of proper medical attention for a
while though, a fact he was thoroughly thankful for.
He scowled slightly as he watched the kid readjust himself in the chair to
compensate for the crutches. “Do you want me to take those?” he questioned,
gesturing towards the crutches Nick settled awkwardly across his lap. “I can hook
them back here and drop them in with the nurses to take back to your
room,” he offered pleasantly. He couldn't imagine it was very comfortable sitting in
a wheelchair with crutches strapped across your lap, particularly when he considered
how Nick had seemed as he had simply sat down. “It's in my nature to be nice
or so I'm told,” he said, lowering his gaze for a moment. Most people were
certainly more than a little surprised when he had his angry little outbursts. “I
totally agree with you though. Dr. Monroe hasn't quite grasped the
concept of beside manner...which is kind of worrying when you consider
that he's been a doctor for like seventeen years or something,” he
responded, pulling a slight face as he considered how he had witnessed Dr. Monroe
to be. He pitied the poor kid being lumped with that guy as his doctor.
“It kind of does, but it beats sitting around my flat on my own,” he
answered honestly, sighing softly and shrugging slightly as he pushed the chair
containing Nick around the corner. He kept missing Mitchell and Annie, which was
both a kind of happy coincidence on all parts and rather intentional on his own. He
glanced down at Nick as the boy looked up at him and posed another question,
smiling brightly down at him. “Bristol – it's like just below Wales, but still in
England,” he answered simply, unsure if the description would make sense to the
kid, wrinkling his nose at his own explanation before chuckling lightly at Nick's
secondary comment. “Only correct assumptions, kid,” he commented, chuckling
softly again. “I'm getting that a lot lately, but I think it's rather obvious,
particularly when I open my mouth and actually talk,” he added in a rather
amused tone. He kept catching people more and more these days who questioned
where in England he was from.
He laughed brightly. “I completely understand where you're coming from
there,” he answered as he considered exactly where they could go. “Well, we can
just skip between floors in the lift as the stairs aren't exactly wheelchair
friendly,” he joked. “And like I say, we can pass one of the nurses stations
and drop off your crutches, so that'll kill some time as well,” he went on, his
tone dropping to somewhere between his light joking levels and somewhere slightly
serious. “There's actually not many specific places to go in a hospital, even
one as big as this,” he commented with a slight shrug as he continued to navigate
his way to the nearest lift to take them down a floor. “Urm, not that long
actually. I moved to New York a few months ago with a couple of friends,”
he answered and explained, maintaining the conversation that Nick had picked up. It
wasn't like he was gave away any massive details about his life – he never really did
in the hospital as he'd learnt what was acceptable banter and what shouldn't be
taken out of his head and verbalised.
Nicholas Miles - February 24, 2012 09:53 AM (GMT)
Medication..! The sound of it made him both happy and sad at the same time. He did not want to fall asleep again, not for a little while longer... but the idea of the numbing was practically magic. He was good, for now, but the more stress, the more it felt like the meds were wearing off. He just nodded, trying to appear somewhat flippant at that. He didn't want to look like an addict, or something.
"I don't know how you do it." He replied, softly. "Just.. seeing all the sick and injured and..." Well, he didn't want to think about death. He'd come damn close. "I dunno. It's depressing." He knew that for a fact. If he was depressed just by being here, how did anyone else keep a cheery attitude, having to see people at their weakest? The thought made him shudder a bit. He offered the crutches, glad do have them out of his lap.
"Thank you. I don't mind holding them, but that's a lot better." He offered, glad to be rid of them. They were going to be his best friends for a month or so, and any time away from them was a good time, that was for sure. He snorted at the amount of time the doctor had been working and still didn't get it. He'd been a doctor for longer than Nick'd been alive... he was clearly in the wrong profession. But doctors made money, so that was probably why.
He wondered what it was like, always sticking out like a sore thumb every time he spoke. Nick had probably asked the question he heard all the time, which was bound to get tiring after a while. Had to be like high school every day of your life. That would be quite probably the most unfortunate way to live - and George did it every day. "I'd like to visit, someday. Is it really as rainy as all that?" He asked, curiously. Sure, he'd heard the same stereotypes as everyone else, so why not go straight to the source?
Nick couldn't stop his grin. George really was a nice guy, and he was already enjoying himself as they made it to the elevator. He hated that he had to be pushed around, but he knew he would not have reached even this far without the assistance. Still, George had already managed to distract him from his plight with his overall enjoyable existence.
"Your friends moved with you, to New York? Wow." He said, genuinely impressed. His friends had to be nice to want to do something as crazy as move countries with each other. "Why'd you settle on this place?" He asked, curiously. "I've lived here my whole life and I still can't see the appeal." Nick grinned, as he tried to decide.
"After we go by the nurse's station, is there like, an outside-part where we can go? I think that'd probably be the best thing ever right now. Fresh air and sunlight! It's not the same through a window." He said, shrugging. Especially when his window looked out over the parking lot.
After a second's hesitation, he glanced back up at him. "I'm not gonna get you in trouble, right?" He asked, certainly not wanting to do that.
George Sands Jr. - March 26, 2012 02:10 PM (GMT)
[click above for outfit]
George shook his head slightly at Nicholas' somewhat reluctance to accept the offer
of stronger pain medication. As much as he could completely understand the
potential issues with the faults behind stronger medication – such as drowsiness
and general incoherence among other things – he couldn't get why if you were in
that much obvious pain, that you would turn the offer down. He half shrugged as
Nicholas spoke again. “I just like helping people – the good outweighs the
bad,” he responded gently. It was an honest answer. Sure, he had he particularly
bad days leading up to and leading away from the full moon, but he couldn't
exactly help those any more. It also tended to be the times he didn't take shifts on
anyway if he could avoid them. “It is a little depressing, but it comes with
the territory,” he added, in another completely honest way. “Not a problem,”
he answered simply, yet in a thoroughly friendly manner, adjusting the crutches
over the back of the wheelchair.
He laughed lightly at Nicholas' words about England. “I'd recommend a visit,
but not necessarily Bristol,” he joked. “It's not as rainy as films would
have you believe,” he added. George leant around Nick in order to press the lift
call button, drumming his fingers over the back of the wheelchair as they waited.
“It was a group decision actually. They didn't just move for my sake,” he
replied. “We came for a friend,” he added, his voice dropping slightly as he thought
about it. The move to New York had been to get Annie back. It had been her idea
and it had actually worked. They just hadn't moved back to Bristol, much as he
admittedly really wanted to sometimes. He shrugged again, pushing the wheelchair
into the lift as the doors finally opened – at least the lift was empty, that was
something to be a bit thankful for. “I'm not entirely sure. It's just where our
friend was and we just haven't moved,” he responded. It probably all sounded
a bit strange the way he was telling it, but he wasn't exactly going to share the
details with some kid he had just met.
“Urm, there's the quad...somewhere,” he began in response, a slightly scowl
forming on his face as he tried to remember where the hell in this place that the
elusive quad actually was. “We'll have to ask for directions on the way
down,” he jested. He had worked at the hospital a while now, but that didn't stop
him getting lost when it came to the places he didn't really go to. He hadn't had
many opportunities to get himself to the quad – he didn't really have many patients
request to go there and he didn't really have the time to go there himself.
“Hardly,” he answered quickly, shaking his head slightly when he realised how
rushed the response seemed. “Most people round here don't pay much
attention to me, I'm just a porter,” he explained. It was true – most doctors
were too focused on their patients or ignoring them to be bothered about porters,
unless they weren't doing their jobs; nurses were a little better in that regard, but
they always had the doctors breathing down their necks.
Nicholas Miles - April 15, 2012 06:38 AM (GMT)
Nick shifted in the surprisingly comfortable wheelchair, as the pressure started to shift in the elevator. This whole situation was just... good. As far as 'days in the hospital' went, this one was probably the best, especially considering, on top of his newfound freedom, he'd met a guy who was clearly marked 'decent human being.' He liked knowing that the person he was talking with had a good head on his shoulders, and George clearly did. He leaned heavily in the chair, though, glad to be off his feet.
Still, the conversation was fun and refreshingly normal. He hadn't realized he had missed it - most of his life had left the mainstream, now, and even his reason for being here was beyond the norm. So, now, as they chatted about the rain in England, he felt a genuine warmth. People weren't so bad, on an individual basis.
"That's still good." He said, when George admitted that they'd all come here for a friend. "Coming across the ocean for someone? That's like..." Epic, but he didn't want to sound like a real teenager. Sure, he was, but he was trying to act mature - like he was older than he was. Maybe if he projected that image, he wouldn't be treated like a kid. So far, it seemed to be working, George was treating him like just another guy.
He laughed a bit about having to find the quad, which, of course, hurt, but it was worth it. He rubbed his chest as he settled down, to ease the strain there. Ow. "At least you're not like my brother. He won't stop and ask for directions even if we've been lost for hours." He knew, personal experience. He'd finally called his dad and told him that his brother was being stubborn and that they'd been lost for ages, and his dad yelled at him for ten minutes until they stopped at a gas station.
He smirked at the memory. "Well, I'm glad I'm not going to cause you any problems." Nick nodded, absently. "I'm definitely a not-make-waves sort of person. If I can help it, I mean. But you're not just a porter, man. You're a lifesaver. I was gonna go nuts if I couldn't get off that floor." He grinned. The doors to the elevator opened with a little 'ding' once they finished. Nick let out a little breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Cramped spaces didn't usually bothered him, but it made him feel like there was nowhere to run. He wanted to be able to move if he had to.
He glanced up at George again, which probably looked silly as hell, but he didn't really mind.
"So, how do you like New York? See the sights and all that good stuff?" Of course, as a native of New York, he was supposed to sneer down his nose at tourists - but hey, as far as he was concerned, New York was awesome, and people visiting wasn't a bad thing. Even if George planned on staying, he should totally see the sights.
Clutching the armrests tightly, he waited in anticipation for the nurse's station, where they might just tell him to go back up to bed. He took a half-deep breath and tried really hard to make himself look healthy.