2013-03-04 Slow Healing

The last few days have come and gone without the addition of a certain white-skinned lady around the place. That in itself isn't all that unusual, nor is finding that she's returned only to crash in the medlab. Someone's managed to get her out of her typical armored shell and into a more traditional gown, which manages to conceal the worst of the damage but not all of it. She's up and conscious, eyes narrowed and jaw set as she pokes around on a Starkpad. There's an assortment of IV's set up, along with yet another blood transfusion. From what can be seen she picked one hell of a fight for herself.
If anyone's been keeping tabs of the local news it could probably be assumed that she had something to do with the horrific eight hour chase and shootout that cut a path across New York City just a few days ago, about the time when she disappeared. Lots of chaos, lots of destruction, fortunately not too many civilian injuries and fewer innocent deaths, but the total bodycount is far from insignificant. Some jobs even she can't cover up.
"Pick a fight with Dracula?"
Bobby Drake's in the doorway of the medlab, arms crossed and leaning against the frame. It's back to long sleeves today as he nods towards Domino's blood bag. He'd heard Domino was back and downstairs on his way there for something else and decided to stop in for a visit. Of course he saw the news and he had a pretty good guess Domino was involved now. "Or do you just enjoy our fabulous medical bay beds?" laughter is the best medicine after all, right?
There's a voice that Dom recognizes, letting the Pad drop onto her lap as her attention crosses the room to the lone figure in the doorway. How does one manage to look innocent when they know they've done something that most others wouldn't sanction? Ignorance is a great starting point.
"I get some of my best naptime in these beds," she replies with a faint grin. "The quarter pound of painkillers might have something to do with that. After the first three hours you don't even notice the lumps in the mattress."
Bobby's an expect on that innocent look. He should offer to teach it as an elective. Pushing off the door, Bobby strolls into the room and heads over to the small mini-fridge they keep the small bottles of water in down there. Popping one open, he takes a swig before continuing. "Only a quarter pound? Man, you must have ticked off the doc," he jokes. "So how bad is it?" he asks, expression turning a little more serious.
It may not show, but Domino's attempting to tread lightly here. She knows where you stand on violence and murder already, and from the perspective of morality there's a mighty big chasm separating these two. It's not like she can just brush off the matter and walk out of here if it gets a little too thick.
That, and you've managed to become one of those people she doesn't like to tick off if it can be helped. Go, team dynamics.
"The usual assortment of cuts and scrapes. Stab wound on the left, bullet hole on the right. More bruises than I can keep track of. Could have been worse, really." Heck, she's lucky to be alive. "Could have handled it on my own but I was running low on blood." In more ways than one.
"Unless you spontaniously developed Wolverine's powers, it doesn't sound like the kind of thing to handle on your own, Dom," Bobby points out. "Sounds more like something you should sit back and let the doctors handle," he says, taking another drink from the bottle.
"In theory," Domino admits. "I'm just ..what's the word," she mock-considers, tapping a fingertip against the bezel of the Starkpad before holding it upward as the word clicks into place, "stubborn." At some point she's going to have to do better than that. "It's not that complex, Frosty. I try not to mix up my own life with you guys. This place is for the team, not personal stuff."
Of course, they're also quite good around here. That alone keeps her coming back, not to mention the convenience. Still, she feels guilty abusing the group's resources like this.
Time for a convenient distraction. "How are you doing after our Arctic trip? I know some of the guys are having a bit of power complications. Guessing that Shift is continuing to improve."
"There's a lot of that going around here these days," Bobby remarks. Like he's one to talk about being stubborn. He rolls his eyes at that statement though. "It's a medical lab, it's for who needs it. There's no 'X-men Only!' sign out there on the door," he points out. Yes, he's taken a bit of a liking to Domino. Eying his water after taking another swig, he pulls the label off and crumples it up. The label gets tossed into the trash and Bobby concentrates. Frost forms on the bottle and the water inside begins freezing and rising until the bottle's holding several icy flowers. Bobby smirks and sets it down near Domino's bedside.
Of course that distraction has him tensing and his expression darkening. He's quiet for a moment, skipping over how he is and mention of power complications. "Kwa's doin' okay. I heard he went out with some of the kids yesterday."
'A lot' of that translates to 'too much' as far as she's concerned, but what could be done about it? The damage has already been dealt. Maybe she could be pursuing additional leads on the group responsible, if she could lay off of the personal business for a while.
Unexpected offer, too good to pass up, yadda yadda. Tell it to your internal organs, Domino.
Ice flowers in a bottle, though? Surprise is clear on her face as she lightly pinches the neck of the bottle, turning it around to watch the light filter through the organic designs contained within. "You really are good at that. Maybe you should move up to a ship in a bottle."
Still. -Flowers!- Maybe you aren't about to get on her case, after all. Yet, it doesn't address the other side of her question. Powers seem to check out, but the person behind them..?
"Hey, good for him. Finally back to being a solid. Maybe now he can hold a few drinks again."
Bobby forces that trademark smirk of his back on his face and offers a quick finger-gun gesture. "Babe, I'm the best at it. I can but anything in there. Ships, flowers, little ice people," he says, puffing out his chest a bit. He likes to show off. "You should see the back yard next winter," he adds. Iceman's sculpture gardens are always fun...and prone to spontaneous snowball fights. "And yeah, if he's up for it, I owe him a beer or two," he goes on. Bobby's got no plans to get on the injured person's case today.
There's something about confidence (and arrogance, for that matter,) that does the trick. "You're still the best I've seen for making slides. It's close enough to winter, isn't it?" Dom inquires. "Or, heck, you should try setting up in the middle of summer. People here oughta love having a chance to cool off. Never too late in the year to miss the show."
Ah, there. Now the conversation's back into comfortable territory. "I'm always up for a couple drinks. Don't let the tubes in the arm fool ya," she adds with a smirk.
"I've got a summer show planned, it's just not the same one as the winter one," Bobby explains. "You'll see 'em," he adds. Provided nothing happens anyway. He laughs a bit, idly poking one of the less vital looking tubes. "Once the doc gives you the okay, I'll owe you a beer too."
You'll owe -her- a beer..? She's not going to question that offer, as it stands Dom's got plenty to gain and nothing to lose. "Knew I liked ya for a reason," she says with a grin. "I'll be back on my feet in no time." And a lot sooner than the doctor would prefer. "Die of boredom before anything else," she adds with a mutter. She gets impatient! She might even still be around come summer, at the very least the healthplan at this place can't be beat.
"Hey, careful with that tube. Might be important."
"It's because I'm so cute and charming, isn't it?" Bobby flashes a grin. "Boredom is a deadly foe. Thankfully we have people around to ward it off for you. And that fancy little toy you've got there," gesturing at the StarkPad. "Angry Bird it up, Dom. And PvZ. Definitely those two," he says.
He smirks when the tube gets brought up, poking it again. "What, this little thing?" he laughs. "Relax. Just because I'm not Bobby Drake PhD doesn't mean I'm completely hopeless down here. One of the guys that helped build this place is one of my oldest friends. I picked up some things from him."
"I tend to do better with the cold ones," Domino teases back. Mention of the Starkpad causes her to scrunch up her face slightly, "One can only take so much of exploding songbirds before it starts to lose its appeal. I need to keep moving, even if it's to drive out to Maine and back for no other reason than to check out a good fish fry. I can still be hooked up to a transfusion while at highway speeds, right?" she asks, looking hopeful.
Hmm, you know your way around the medical lab, as well? "I'll keep that in mind. The stitches in the middle of the back are just the worst." She's ..well, probably half joking, there.
"Lobster fishing," Bobby states simply. "You gotta go diving to catch the little buggers," he jokes....despite the completely serious expression. "Sorry, your cars lack the proper transfusion equipment," he snickers. In reply to her half joke, Bobby creates a quick ice back scratcher and hands it over.
And now a back scratcher! "Truly you are a man of a thousand talents," Domino jokes. "Might be a little cold to go lobster-wrangling, but I do enjoy a good swim. Where's that warmer weather I ordered, anyway?"
With one more glance back at the Starkpad she reaches over to power it down. "Thanks for dropping by, Frosty. Think it's time to visit the magical land of Morphine again."
"Only a thousand? Please. So much more," Bobby laughs. "Talk to Ororo about that," he adds about the weather. As Domino powers down the pad, Bobby's phone beeps. "Looks like someone else needs the Iceman too," he says. "Have a nice nap. I've gotta get going too."
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