vaccination | TLV

She's about to give in and doze off when Steve returns. There's a slight start from her, but then she relaxes, hoping he didn't catch that reaction.

"Hope you brought a straw."

Sitting up is going to suck.

Get it. Suck. Straw.

If he caught it, he doesn't say anything about it, just shaking his head a little as he sets the glasses down on the desk. "Sorry, no. I don't even know where I'd get one around here."

Even if he had one, though, she's going to have to sit up to drink either way. Which... yeah, is not gonna be fun, but it's probably best just to get it overwith. He settles back down on the bed for a minute, considering before, "If I just pull you up, how much am I going to pay for it later?"

She really hates being this helpless. She made it back to Jackson with a broken shoulder and face, but this is worse. That shit hurt, but her strength came back as soon as she picked herself up off the floor. This is just sort of humiliating and there's the looming threat of things becoming worse before they get better. But.

"Pretty sure my pride bled out a while ago. Just do it," she sighs. If she really wanted, she could manage, but she knows it's no trouble for Steve to pull her up. He's carried her like she weighs nothing.

He knows what it's like, and he knows how much it stings when you can't do things for yourself. "You know, I've probably mentioned, but B's probably put in more hours dealing with me than most actual nurses will in a lifetime," he offers softly, scooting a little more onto the bed and carefully reaching under Ellie's shoulders to pull her upright, bracing her with one hand at her back while he shuffles the pillow against the wall so between it and him, she can lean on it and stay up. Then he reaches over and pulls over one glass, waiting patiently to see if she's got enough control with her hands to get it.

The attack has her whole body feeling like a giant bruise even if it's the blood loss she's mostly struggling with, now. Ellie bites down on her lip as she's moved, swearing softly once she's mostly up, and letting out a breath. Her head feels heavy.

"Nurse Steve is enough for me. Nurse B can stay in retirement," Ellie says. She eyes the glass, then slowly holds out two shaky hands to try and take it. "There's a few lines in your file about how things were for you before."

Or at least a few that Ellie read.

"Yeah, he definitely deserves the break," Steve agrees, letting her take it but keeping a hand under it for extra support, because he wants to give her what autonomy he can, but he also figures neither of them want her to spill it all over the bed, either. He's still trying to work out how pissed she'll be if he tries to get her to put on something without tacky, drying blood all over it.

He hums, because he's not surprised the file includes it. "Yeah. You could've taken me out without breaking a sweat," he says, and honestly, he's not even really exaggerating much. "But a bad cold would floor me just as bad as a good punch. Hell, even on the Barge, I got knocked flat a couple times. I brought something back from a breach, once. I'm that talented."

Ellie's more bark than bite right now. But, unfortunately, she's more than used to sitting around in clothes with bodily fluids caked on them. She's not going to complain.

Drinking feels uncomfortable knowing there's a hole in her neck, but she manages a few small sips. It tastes good, feels good when her mouth feels like cotton, but she doesn't want to overwhelm herself and puke on Steve's bed on top of everything else.

"I don't think I would have." It's just musing. Physically, yeah, probably. Especially as an adult. But fourteen year old Ellie, lonely and bullied? She would have wanted to be friends, especially once she realized they both liked to draw. "I was always an easy target for bullies because I was small. I get that much, at least."

Steve honestly appreciates that she's taking it slow - that's better than just gulping it down, anyway. But the hole is nowhere near your throat, Ellie. And he is pretty good at stitches, if he does say so himself. You'll be fine.

"Yeah," Steve murmurs, agreeing, "they do like to go after the small kids. I never understood, but I guess that's the difference between us and them." Making people smaller than him feel weaker doesn't make him feel better about anything.

"Besides, being small can be a major advantage in the right circumstances, at least." You're faster, more maneuverable. (When you're not asthmatic, at least.) And sometimes people not noticing you can really be to your advantage.

TLV | inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject