bathysphere

It's a dangerous job. It comprises of dealing with idiots, violent idiots, and sometimes idiots with knives. Santiago shouts something about going for a break, but it's like a joke because he's pretty sure his eye has just been gauged out. He can't see out of it, and once his hands are free he gropes for a rag to hold back the blood.

He doesn't even get medical coverage, so the free clinic it is.

Blood doesn't bother him, but somehow he's feeling lightheaded and clumsy by the time he makes the walk. He doesn't want to stagger in like a dying man but he slams the door open with a shoulder; a dissatisfied grunt and a trickle of blood down his forearm that drips from his elbow.

@umi

The nurse who stands to meet him at the door has a light hold on his arm, and he follows where she leads. He's more distracted by the pain than hindered by his eye as he sits down.

"Santiago." He lowers his hand, lets it fall limp into his lap, still holding the blood soaked rag and gritting his teeth as she presses a bit of gauze to the wound. "Vidal." He adds as an afterthought.

She seems composed enough - he wonders vaguely if these nurses are even trained for anything but flu shots and taking blood pressure. He wonders what he's supposed to tell her. Hissing a low breath through his teeth, he chooses his words carefully, he answers in vague terms. "Got attacked. Knife in the eye." Santiago flashes a sheepish smile, as if it's not a big deal, as if it could happen to anybody.

@umi

His good eye follows the line of her hand to the clipboard - his other eye tries to follow, there must be some nerves and tendons left twitching and spasming in the socket, if there's nothing left of his eye. He can't tell if it's gone or just not working.

"Wait," he goes to grab her arm, and he has to make a conscious effort to do it gently, fingers wrapping around her forearm in a loose hold. It sounds suspicious, but it's the south. He has to take a deep breath before he goes on, trying to sound calm. "Can you just... stitch it up or something?" He tries, not even sure what's under the gauze.

@umi

He doesn't want this to be a big deal. He wants the blood to stop running down his face so he can get back to work. Nodding gingerly in thanks, he lets go of her arm. She seems to understand

She looks at his eye - he can't see anything of her from it, he assumes there isn't anything looking back. A part of Santiago almost feels bad for her, dragged into something far over her head. He assumes most of the people coming in are mothers with snotty-nosed kids, colds and ear infections.

He holds the gauze compliantly until she moves it out of the way, and from her expression Santiago can tell it must be a mess. He shrugs, tries to lighten the mood. "I'm not the one who has to look at it at least - sorry."

Santiago is almost surprised by his own nonchalance. Maybe at this point he's just past caring. Maybe he'll go into some sort of shock when it really sinks in. Now, he just looks at her as she rubs the cool gel, outlining his cut. "It's a pleasure, Umi." Even now he sounds like he's just bumped into her on the street, like she isn't about to sew up a gaping wound.

He steels himself a little, chest rising with a deep breath.

@umi

He feels the prick of the needle with a sort of detachment. Painlessness. He sits still as he can, feeling the blood-soaked rag still warm in his hands, the pungent smell of antiseptic. Umi is leaned in close as she wors, and he watches her, grounded by her words, the faint crease in her brow, the shape of her lips pulled into a concentrated frown.

As she finishes, he lets out a breath he's been holding. "Thanks." His first instinct is to raise a hand to his eye to feel around and inspect the damage and how much of it she's fixed. He manages to resist, and instead he leans over and tosses the bunched rag into the garbage bin in the corner of the room. Somehow it lands neatly on top of all the gauze and packaging already settled at the bottom, and he wonders if having one eye isn't supposed to fuck up depth perception.

Santiago sighs, glancing to the forms. Part of him wants this to all be off the record, but he's got a feeling that this is all against protocol anyways, the stitch job that might not be bad but certainly aren't pretty. The adrenaline must be wearing off because he's dead tired now. He bites back a yawn. "Sure." He just dictates the numbers and addresses, and has a fleeting thought about Briella as he does so.

"There's a bathroom here, yeah?" He's already standing, out into the hallway - he wants to assess the damage, clean himself off so he isn't soaked in his own blood when he goes back outside.

@umi
what the fuck am i doing bc idk

He doesn't take too long. Wipes the blood off his skin - the clothes are ruined anyways - looks at the stitches, still too much of a mess to make much sense of. He prods at the skin mottled and angrily bruised, and winces because it's tender and fresh, and it was the stupid curiosity that makes him do it. He wipes off his hands and turns his back on his reflection.

He comes back out to see she's closing up, and he comes up to her with a sort of hesitance, she's writing and he doesn't want to distract her. "Thanks again." At least he got in before closing. Santiago glances towards the door, then back to Umi. "Hey. I can walk you home?" He offers - she mentioned something about it. It's the least he can do.

@umi

He isn't sure if she'll accept his offer, if she isn't just eager to get home and get away from him, but she's earnest and smiling when she accepts. He smiles back. He supposes that he might as well be a rugged guard dog, that nobody else will come near him.

He takes the prescription, scans it and glances back up to Umi with a bit of surprise. She could have called the ER and left it to them. But she didn't.

"It's late. I can drive you home if you'd like." Once again, Santiago isn't sure she'll accept the offer. He doesn't park his car by the brothel, it's in a lot a few blocks away. He isn't sure if he can drive properly with one eye, but he'll have to get himself home somehow.

@umi