“Is… is that where we are?” Donnie asked, suddenly afraid to open his one good seeing eye. Ouch. Her comment stung a little. Did he really look that bad? “I may look like I got hit by a train, but at least I’m not a corpse.” Well, not yet anyway. He was sure if Kellerman had his way, he’d be dead and at the bottom of Lake Ontario by now.
Opening his eye, he squinted at the stranger and got ready to protest until he felt the sharp sting of the peroxide meeting one of his open wounds. “Jesus! Maybe I’d be better off as a corpse. Sorry. It’s just - ow - you weren’t wrong, that does sting.” And now he felt like a baby for admitting that fact, but he was already embarrassed and defeated after the fight he’d had in the stock room. “What’d you say your name was again?”
➳
❝Hm…you might be a bit concussed.❞ Her brows knitted together at his question, eyes momentarily drifting across room. Steel surgical table, cadaver drawers–it was only a little obvious that they were in the hospital’s morgue. She chose not to answer him, though, because the idea seemed to unsettle him enough, and she felt too bad to startle him more.
❝And from the looks of it, you’re lucky you’re not a corpse right now.❞ And really, Lydia was speaking from experience. She wasn’t cocky enough to believe she’d gotten out of numerous bad situations without any kind of luck or miracle.
She lifted the cotton bud from the wound when her ‘patient’ flinched, giving him a moment to recover before returning to her task.
❝ I’m sure the sting isn’t as bad as when you’d gotten on the receiving end of someone else’s fists.❞ She’s been at this profession long enough to know the difference between a bad fall and becoming someone’s punching bag.
❝On the bright side, you don’t look like you’ll need stitches.❞
Trying to lighten her tone, Lydia set down the bloodied cotton balls, taking a step back to assess her handiwork.
❝I think it’s my civic and professional duty to report the assault. ❞ Crossing her arms, Lydia raised her brows.
❝I won’t, because it doesn’t seem like you’d want that–but I think you might owe it to me to provide an explanation.
❞ And perhaps some reassurance that the next time she saw him, she wouldn’t be helping her boss cut him open.❝And, uh, it’s Lydia, by the way.❞
