2012-10-15 Ain't got Time to be a Cat

It's unseasonably warm today, so One has left the window propped open. A copy of Les Mis, suitably thick and sturdy, serves as his prop. The occasional breeze is cool and refreshing. At least to him. His broken ribs and the horrid pavement burn on his back are in the final stages of healing, so his metabolism is in overdrive. It shows. There are faint beads of perspiration along his brow and upper lip, but they don't seem to be distracting him from the task at hand. "You're going to want to hold really, *really* still," he advises Domino.

He's taken to being fully-dressed again. A crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled back, black tie, and slacks. A leather shoulder holster with a large, ancient revolver shoved into it complete his usual ensemble. And a pair of latex gloves, of course. He's prepped to start pulling the stitches from Dom's bullet wound, complete with a tiny pair of scissors in one hand and hemostats of various sizes at the ready. "Okay. Make like this is the last date you went on. Close your eyes, grit your teeth, let me do what I need to do, and it'll all be over before you know it."

"Real classy, Doc," Domino mutters through a clenched jaw. "Didn't we already talk about your bedside manner needing some help once before?" She's sitting backward in a chair, arms folded around the backrest for stability with her hands already gripping either side with more effort than truly necessary. Her armor and combat gear has been pulled down to her waist, showing nothing but lots of ghostly white skin and plenty of scars from earlier skirmishes. "Is it a bad time to say that my dates usually end with someone getting beaten and bloody?" Stitches are only slightly less awful than needles. She doesn't enjoy either, at all.

The world can be cruel. Horrific. Vile, even. Humans are often willing to exact great acts of violence upon others, on their fellow man and animals alike, often with little fear of just what their actions might result in once everything is all said and done. Selina is made aware of this fact when she happens upon the wrong person at the wrong time.

After returning to the neighborhood she first came to after the unfortunate events with the curse, she tried to find something to eat and instead wound up being seriously injured. On a human the bullet wound wouldn't be too bad, a through-and-through to the meaty part of their flank, but on a small animal the wound had the potential to be deadly.

Not good when you're alone regardless of what species you are.

Somehow the petite cat manages to not only remember where she is but the fact that she was helped by someone who lives not far from where the shooting took place but every step she makes causes her to lose more blood, weakening her greatly in no time at all. The climb up onto the fire escape is barely successful and the trip up to the window that's open almost not able to be completed, the kitty alive although in dire need of assistance by the time she arrives. A whimpered mew sounds from her just before she flops inside, bonelessly.

"Darling, you say such sweet things to me. I must have you." One's voice is very droll, but he's smiling as he reaches out with his scissors to start snipping through thread. The little blades stop just short of their mark when he hears the sad mewling.

"Pardon me," he says, lowering them and unfolding himself from his crouched position next to Domino. "Seems that there's someone tap-tap-tapping at my chamber door. Kitty? Ahh, damnit."

One's a doctor. Triage is second nature to him. Right now he's got a patient who's almost fully healed and one that's almost completely dead. "Sorry, but I have to do something. I can't just..." he gestures helplessly to the cat, then approaches so she can sniff his fingers.

Timing. Aaaaalways with the timing. Domino's sitting there, waiting for the pain. That pitiful little mewl..? For once it isn't coming from her. "God..damnit, I think your girlfriend's back."

When One steps away and goes for the window Dom lets herself relax, turning to watch from where she's sitting. "Guess that isn't the sound of hunger, is it. Well, I did warn you about how my dates tend to go." To his apology she merely waves it off, after prying one of her hands free of the chair. A second later and she instead reaches for a small canteen stuffed into a coat pocket, twisting the cap and helping herself to an extra helping of something strong. She's too strung out for having surgery done, as it is.

Actually, Dom may as well get herself dressed for now. All her luck someone will try and snipe her through the window, armor helps with that sort of thing! "So..yeah. I'm no vet, but do you need a hand? Those still work."

One's approach and careful reaching out is noticed by the cat but she can't really move, her energy stores spent. She does look responsive so she hasn't succumbed too much to shock although she just might fall victim to it if he doesn't move fast and do something to stop the bleeding.

Dom's voice is heard but doesn't get any reaction from Sel besides a quickly darted glance in her direction and a minute twitch of an ear and her whiskers. If she weren't injured she'd probably bolt or try to climb the doctor, still spooked by the femme-merc, but right now all she can do is lay there.

"I might," the Doc admits. "I'm no vet."

His eyes roam critically over the cat. "Other than the GSW and a touch of malnourishment, she seems intact. Grab my bag, will you? It's by the door, over there."

Some of the things he needs are already in his pockets and desk drawers. He loads his smallest syringe with a mild anesthetic and, with his free hand gently holding the kitty in place, he injects her near the site of the wound.

Ah, something simple! "Yeah, I got it," Dom calls back. It doesn't take long before she's at One's side, bag in hand. It's only then that she can get a decent look at the returning feline. "Christ, did that cat get -shot?- That's just wrong." Yeah, and if she finds the one responsible he can expect this merc to return the favor in spades.

"You're also the most qualified one here to handle this, though I don't know how I'd feel about you asking for a transfusion." Heck, usually Dom has some idea of what to do. In a situation like this, she's just plain feeling lost. Boiling water or finding alcohol? It's the Doc's place, he'd have the basics figured out by now. Probably best to just stay on call and keep out of the way. She can do that.

The injection gains a sputtered hiss but that's all the reaction the patient can give. It's either a case of her being too weak or perhaps knowing somehow that One's trying to help her that keeps an attack from happening, the limp form rather well behaved despite the hurt of the needle and the burn of what she's being shot up with

The wound itself, upon inspection, will reveal some rather nasty trauma to the muscle as well as perhaps a nicked artery but while the bullet managed to cause some pretty nasty damage to the fleshy part of her leg the bone is intact, that probably being the only reason she was able to get to aid.

"I'm going to have to go in and look for fragments the old-fashioned way," One explains as he pulls his scalpet set from the bag and extracts the tiniest blade. "For now, just hold her steady and try to keep her calm. I'll take care of the rest."

It only takes one small incision to expose the bullet, which, thankfully, is almost completely intact. One quickly swaps his scalpel out for a set of clamps and wraps them around the lodged projectile. "Okay..." he says. "Here comes the really icky part."

Uno. Dos. Tres. Yank! He draws the bullet out with a single, smooth pull. Clearly not his first time.

"Yeah..okay, I'll just ..." Right. Domino's still way out of her element. Cats are cool and all, but there's reasons why she's never had one. Or any pet, for that matter. She's out and jumping across the globe way too much, and having a safehouse getting blasted apart with military-grade explosives does not make for a happy, healthy environment for an animal. Getting emotionally attached isn't much better. But, she can try! The feline's already looking quite limp, shouldn't be too much of a fight to deal with. One hand around the shoulders, one around the hips, and a slow, steady petting by nothing more than the roll of a thumb through the cat's fur.

Owwie... Even Dom has to wince when that bullet gets removed. From people, no big deal! From animals... Poor thing!

As the bullet is pulled free two things happen. The first is the most predicable, most likely, that being how the wound starts to bleed even more now that the pressure against the damaged artery is no longer there, the bullet an odd-life saver in that it remaining where it was had kept her from bleeding out quickly. The second event that takes place is not so predictable, however, and just might scare the shit out of those trying to attend to her medical needs.

The feline figure that lays on the floor starts to glow, illuminated from the inside out, bright enough to shroud her, bright enough to hide her from view. The light lingers for a minute, perhaps two, precious time that could be used to patch her up instead wasted unless One can manage to still see what it is he's doing. The brightness then pulses - once, twice and then a third time - before it dies, leaving a surprise in its wake.

Laying in a semi-fetal curl is a woman. A very /naked/ woman, in fact. Anyone who keeps up with the social pages of the various newspapers might recognize her but if not then her identity'll be a mystery since there is no ID upon her person and she's hovering on unconsciousness, unable to talk.

The sustained injury is smaller but while the bullet wound itself isn't as big there is still the matter of the nicked artery, that in dire need of being closed up so the near-found of blood can be quelled.

"What. The. Hell?" One allows himself exactly two seconds to be shocked, stunned, and completely confused. Then his eyes narrow and his lips press into a thin line. "No time to dick around," he mutters, and throws himself into his work.

His hands move fast. So, so fast. Staunching bleeding, changing out gauze, prepping sutures, digging out another sliver of the bullet that he missed in his first past. It's almost as if these things are happening simultaneously. The artery is patched with mechanical precision, no motion or effort is wasted.

"This is about as rare as rocking horse shit," he mutters, pausing to dab at his brow. "Alright, Dom?"

"Whoa Doc, she's going critical!" Domino blurts out as that cat starts emitting light. -Light!- Like she's just plugged right into the damned wall! The merc nearly falls over backward, suddenly wondering if she's getting doused in some sort of radiation by remaining in close proximity to the whole thing. It's good that One can stay focused on his work, all she can do is hang on and hope for the best!

In another minute Dom's staring down at some naked chick, her hands now resting against skin instead of fur. "..Ehm." Her hands lift away in unison a second later, followed by her taking a quick step away. Just a bit freaked out here, don't mind her! What she finds to focus her attention on is the retrieval of her heavy leather trench, swiping it off of the table then returning to offer the cat-turned-woman some amount of cover. So long as the Doc's work isn't going to be interrupted by it, anyway. "Bet none of this shit happens to your friends, huh."

Everything starts to improve as soon as One's repairs are made with, the blood slowing to a more acceptable rate which results in her blood pressure slowly starting to come up and her heart rate becoming a little more stable. There's even a bit of color returning to her cheeks although it's so faint it might be missed by anyone save the most observant of people.

The figure is quiet, silent. The only way anyone will be able tell she's breathing is by the rise and fall of her chest.

"I don't have any friends," One admits. He doesn't sound sad about it. He's just stating a fact. A fraction of a second and a very brief glance are spared for Domino. "Except for you, maybe. Are we friends? I think I'd like that, though I am a bit curious about which of us would come out on top in a fight. If we were friends, we might never find out."

The banter doesn't seem to distract him from his work. On the contrary. It helps him focus because it distracts him from the sheer quanitity of weirdness that just happened in his office. By the time he's done talking, he has the wound stitched up. The bloody gauze is changed again, the old going on top of a rapidly growing pile and the new secured for a moment with a strip of heavy-duty tape. "That'll do 'er," he says, affecting a heavy (and convincing) Texas drawl as he sits back on his heels.

"Sure," Domino distractedly answers One's question. What she's admitting to may not be that obvious to her at the time. "We can spar later."

Weird things tend to happen in Dom's life. Granted, they usually aren't -this- sort of weird, but things have been odd enough that she's learned to become cautious. There's more than enough people out in the world that are after her that she can't afford not to be. She left her coat with the other woman but that doesn't answer any of the questions now plaguing her mind. That's why her hands are operating on autopilot, retrieving one of her large pistols then absentmindedly drawing the slide back, allowing it to slam forward with a spike of mechanical noise. "Forgive me Doc, but from my experiences it's usually a bad thing when people materialize out of nowhere. We don't know who she is." Pause. "..We don't, do we?" She keeps the weapon pointed at the floor but she doesn't seem anxious to let it out of her hand at any point. Some amount of paranoia can be a helpful thing. Even the Doc is a bit suspect, she's turned in a way that she can keep a close eye on both from a somewhat more safe distance.

A moan sounds and the woman stirs under the blanket, an honest-to-God sign that she's not going to be kicking the bucket. Not unless something goes horribly wrong, that is. Her current plight doesn't really dawn on her until she reaches under Domino's heavy coat to scratch an itch, expecting to feel leather and armor under her fingers. Imagine her shock when it's flesh she discovers instead. "What... huh..." Peeking an eye open groggily, Selina can make out fuzzy figures next to and near her but details are not readily made out yet. While visual details are not easy to figure out the physical ones are, however, and she's soon feeling a throbbing in her leg. The shot One gave her to numb her leg while working on her was dosed for a smaller body and is swiftly starting to wear off. "Oh fu..." Gritting her teeth, Sel becomes a bit combative but it isn't to fight them off. No, the swinging of arms is to try and get people out of her way so she can sit up and see what is going on with her leg. "Fire..." she grumbles, that in regards to the burning sensation. Was she burned? There wasn't a fire, was there?

"I don't, no. But I didn't save her life so you could fill her full of holes. If we have to kill her, trust me, I'll have no problem doing it myself." One lets his words hang in the air for a few seconds. That's when the woman starts coming around.

"Whoa. Slow down. I'm waaay better at opening arteries than I am at closing them." He takes a step back and holds up a hand, palm out and facing his uninvited guest. "Just relax. I don't want to hurt you, but my friend over there doesn't give a toss, so take a deep breath. Relax. What's your name?"

"Yeah, but you're over there, doing your thing," Dom explains. "Now I'm over here, doing mine." Thank goodness this unexpected guest can speak, and in a language that they're all familiar with. This should make things a good deal easier. She's not about to complain about One taking up the majority of the questioning, either. Heck, she'd even offer to get the other woman something to drink, but the gun stays in her hand for now.

"'Give a toss,' what planet did you get your slang from?" One of the merc's legs hooks the nearest chair and pulls it around, giving her somewhere to plant that foot so she can lean forward on the raised knee it provides. She's still not feeling terribly lively, herself. That, and the posture is perhaps slightly less threatening. "We'd all like to think that your amongst friends, but we have yet to determine this."

The threats are not appreciated by Selina who glares, first at One and then his companion. "Just what kind of threat do you think I am," she almost snarls, too pained and too groggy to think of anything like how she should mind her manners since they're armed and she's not. Her eyes squeeze closed tightly as she fights tears, angry and hurt, humiliated. "My name is Selina," she answers once she is sure she is not going to cry, not wishing to give the strangers the satisfaction of seeing her do so. "Look, if you'll give me something to wear I'll get dressed and on my way. I don't want to be a burden any more than I have been."

The fact that she has spent the past four days or so as a cat escapes her, the details of all that has transpired gone, nowhere in her memory. "If you'll give me a means to contact you," she newly addresses One, Domino left to keep her watch without bothering her for now, "I will give you some money once I can get home."

"Okay, lady. Selina. Just stay cool." Apparently, this is enough to convince One that the danger has passed. "You're not in any condition to be on your way anywhere. You got shot. You've got an artery that's held together by thread and wishes. What I'd like to do is give you something for the pain and something to keep that wound from getting infected. Then I'm going to bandage you up properly. I haven't had a patient die on me yet. Not about to start with you."

That said, he turns to look at Domino over his shoulder. "Would you mind grabbing something out of the closet in my bedroom? I'm pretty sure I own a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. And there's no traps in there. Scout's honor."

Domino lets out a slow breath, using her free hand to rub lightly at her forehead. "Look, Selina? I don't want to be that bitch that you hate, at least try to understand where we're coming from? You were a damned alleycat one minute, then ..-this,- the next. You're not the only one that's freaked out and confused here, I promise you that. No one's wanting an excuse to put you down, just work with us for a bit here."

The request given to Domino is met with a slight nod, standing away from the chair and letting the sidearm roll around her index finger once as she goes to round up some clothes. It doesn't take her long, coming back over to offer what she's found to Sel. "You can keep the coat if you want, I buy in bulk. And don't worry, One's a good doc. I'm the next patient in line."

At least she has the promise of clothes and a little reassurance that they're not going to do anything to her but with One wanting her to stay and Dominio mentioning how she was a cat... Selina is starting to get a bit panicky again. "I... no. You don't get it. I got to get back," comes protest while she sits up, her brow knitted. "And what the hell does she mean I was an alley cat?"

Domino's offer of the trench is met with a shake of Selina's head and a quick 'thanks but that won't be necessary', the polite refusal of the protective coat given with as much of a smile as she can muster. Attention back on the medic, she pauses, watches him carefully before adding quietly, "I'll make a deal with you. You let me go home and I'll give you the means to get in touch with me so you can check up on me." Pause. "After you do what you need to do, of course," she adds. "And... thank you." Sigh.

"If you bleed out a block from here, you can't say I didn't warn you. Brace yourself." One has donned another set of gloves and loaded two more syringes. "I'm only giving you a mild painkiller. Don't want you dozing off in the back of a cab." He injects her, then follows up quickly with the other hypo. "Antibiotics," he explains simply.

For bandaging, he simply wraps what's already there in additional layers of gauze and tape. Enough to last the night, at least. Then he rummages in his doctor's bag for one of his little care packages. It's a white parcel, unmarked, and small enough to hold in one hand. "That's my basic trauma kit. My card's inside. I figure you'll rabbit and we'll never see you again, but you have my information if you change your mind."

"I mean you were an actual -cat.- Small black thing, about yay big," Dom gestures with her palms held apart. "Cute, skittish, apparently taking a strong disliking to me. Don't you remember any of that?"

It's easy to hold up the works when you're not 'in the know' of what's going on. Domino's used the excuse before, coming to only to remember that she has to be somewhere other than where she is. Hearing this opens up so many new questions, but at the heart of the matter it really isn't anyones' business except for Selina's. It's clear enough that the other woman just wants to leave, too. Dom holsters her gun, not planning on getting in Sel's way.

"Yeah, look. Not my life, not my concern. But, if you want a hand in dealing with the twit that thought it would be fun to shoot at a cat, give One here a call. I can be reached through him. First one's free." First one of what, though?

Selina waits for One to finish with patching her up before she tries to get dressed; with his being five inches or so taller than her the tee just might be long enough to protect her modesty, if only marginally so, but she doesn't care to rely on the shirt to keep strangers from ogling her if they wished. So she tries to put the pants on while still under the coat, that made difficult as it is weighted in places that press her tired body down, causing her to have to struggle a bit to get them up over her legs and hips. It isn't until she's sure nothing can be seen that the leather is drawn away and she works on getting the pants buttoned (and zipped if a zipper is involved), her fingers not wanting to work. Might be from how her hands shake but she's also been without their use as since she was a cat and only had paws.

"I don't know who shot me, nor do I know anything about being a cat. I am sorry but I..." They're on something, One and Domino are. That's the only explanation for what they saw. There was /no cat/. None. No... or so she's trying to delude herself into thinking. But the more she thinks about it the more little pieces start to fall into place. Time for Sel to go home and freak out. In private. "I won't rabbit," she promises while struggling to her feet. "I will get into touch with you. I owe you repayment at the very least." And she's owed some fucking answers.

"Okay. Go on, scat." One bares his teeth, smiling at his little joke. "We'll talk dollar signs when and if you call me."

And as far as he's concerned, the issue is closed. A trash bag appears from inside his seemingly bottomless satchel. He snaps it open, stuffs all the used and soiled medical supplies inside, and ties the plastic flaps. "Jesus," he mutters. "At the rate you people get shot, I'm going to need an incinerator just to keep up with the mess."

"Well don't make a habit of it, alright?" Domino teases Selina with a tiny grin edging into the corner of her mouth. "No good can come from it, believe me. Good luck to you, and all that."

Sheesh, is that how she acts when hyped up on adrenaline and impending doom? One's muttering earns a roll of Dom's eyes. "Why don't you cry to me about your troubles, Doc." Must be tough getting so much business lately! "If we're all finished up with the crisis of the hour then would you be a dear and get these damned stitches out of me already?"