ArchivedLogs:Afterparty
| Afterparty | |
|---|---|
Tending to the Big Damn Heroes. | |
| Dramatis Personae | 28 March 2013 Nox gets paramedic'd. Everyone fusses a bit. (Set after The Oscorp Gala ) |
| Location
<NYC> Hellfire Clubhouse - Upper East Side | |
Monochrome elegance at its finest: the Hellfire Club plays home to New York's elite, and has spared no expense in making that clear. Black and white marble tiles the floor, the pattern distinctly that of a chessboard. Rich wood paneling lines the walls, and the alcoves of the entry hall hold statues reminiscent of chess pieces. Meeting and dining halls provide plentiful space for the club's members to congregate, whatever their needs. The Hellfire's library, while far smaller than its ballroom in size, is far more prized in content. Hundreds of volumes line the meticulously tended shelves, the rarest kept carefully in climate-controlled cases under the watchful eye of the mansion's librarian. High-backed leather chairs and plush couches provide quiet reading spaces beneath soft lighting, and tall windows look out to the mansion's gardens beyond. The main ballroom of the mansion is vast and opulent, its ceiling vaulted and the balconies above curving gracefully away from the grand staircase -- an ideal place from which to Make An Entrance. The hallways that branch off from the staircase run in opposing monochrome: the stark white court's quarters to one side, the dark black court's quarters to the other. How deep do the Hellfire Club's coffers go? Hopefully /very/ deep because the main ballroom of the mansion is no longer opulent. Much of the room is covered in a fine layer of grit, actual chunks of rubble litter the low dais set at one end and there is an immense hole in the wall. Tables are tipped everywhere, chairs are knocked over, the floor is covered in glass, dust and wreckage. It was a hell of a party. As police circulate and get a grasp on the scene, they've finally allowed medical crews to enter--certain, now, that their safety is ensured. And those crews are /needed/. Some people were hit with concrete debris and shrapnel. Others are suffering breathing difficulty from the dust, or various ailments from the excitement--one elderly investor has chest pains. Nox is on the floor, meekly complying with instructions to lay still while people cover her arm, shoulder and the side of her face with dampened cloths. Although she does keep trying to assure those tending to her that, "I am in no danger of dying, really." "Interestingly enough, we do not /only/ have medical care to tend the dying." Lucien's tone is dry. He has been on hand; at first to bring helpful things like water but. After this, he has mostly just /been/ there. Loitering. Loitering, admittedly, with one hand rested absently against Nox's arm, fingertips trailing there just lightly. It's enough contact to soothe the pain of the burns, replacing it instead with a wave of soothing coolness. Micah is one of said people covering Nox in lightly dampened towels. Actually, he’s /directing/ this process. “Just because you ain’t gonna die don’t mean you don’t need help. Burns’re serious business.” He’s in full on fussy-faced, don’t-argue-with-me nursemaid mode. Which is somewhat comical given that he’s wearing a tux and coated in explosion grit. Jackson is quiet. He's a little pale, a lot grit-covered himself, also tuxedo'd, and he's just kind of going along with whatever directing is directed because Micah seems to actually know what he's /doing/ and Jax takes instruction like a pro. One of the first of a likely swarm of first responders is Morgan, carrying her kit and being closely tailed by her partner, a taller, heavier built fellow with dark hair. With only a glance, they move in the same direction. The gent with the chest pains is sent packing on the stretcher to the first available bus, as other teams move in. Which has Morgan with her kit in her grip fetching up along the people surrounding Nox. She doesn't bother with pleasantries, dropping to a knee and opening up the kit. One thin wisp of dark hair is loose along the side of her face as Morgan gives Nox a quick, tight smile. "He's right, burns can suck." Green eyes flash around, before she's looking down at where Nox is covered with dampened cloths. "Can some of you take a half step back? Just if I need to move around her, don't want to step on dress shoes. " But she isn't looking at them, almost hyperfocused on Nox. "They will be able to do little for me. I have no veins. I have no lungs. They will cut my new dress." And, apparently, without the benefit of pain thanks to Lucien, Nox feels mildly contrary. But she rests beneath their ministrations without so much as twitching when fresh towels are applied. Her hand slips to the side, over grit and rubble, to rest curled fingers against Lucien's knee. So subtle. She radiates tired, mostly, with quieter threads of discomfort, embarrassment and a nagging sense that that Shaw person was probably right--it was not her brightest moment. "You have skin. You have burns. The Club paid for your new dress, anyway. Would you like another?" Lucien doesn't actually say this like generous offer, he says this like mildly impatient bribery. "Let them tend you. We can /get/ you a /new/ new dress." He doesn't move back when Morgan arrives. Clearly her orders are to everyone except him, duh. His fingers stay against Nox's skin, continuing his painkilling and generally monitoring her current state. Micah /does/ move out of the way immediately when Morgan arrives. Boy’s been /trained/. “Just got her stable and supine and were gettin’ the damp towels on the burns waitin’ for y’all to get here. Thanks for hurryin’.” He remains nearby in case help or information is needed. He does take the opportunity to wrap an arm around Jax’s shoulders, now that he’s busy being not-in-the-way. So many people needing different kinds of help! Micah needs more arms. Morgan offers Nox a smile. "Hey there. Listen, I have to be boring. Tell me your name, and what day of the week it is, okay?" Eyes sweep over Nox again, and anyone watching will just the hint of curious puzzlement in her expression as she opens her kit and rips open a package. There's a flash of a smile for Micah. "Thanks. Always good to get the skinny." There's another blink, the faintest flicker of a pause as she glances in his direction, before she's carefully working to slide a special sort of treated fabric along Nox's arm, under the damp clothes before she's pushing them aside. Jackson, too, is quick to move when the Professionals arrive. He lets Micah do the talking; he's looking Nox over worriedly. The arm around his shoulders is welcomed, leaned into with a quiet sense of gratitude that Micah can feel more than it can be seen. << Y'okay, honey-honey? >> is a quiet murmur to Micah, soft over the background /drone/ of all their new Hivees. Underneath it there is a smaller, tireder, << the medics are here can we go home? >> that is more /inadvertent/ than a deliberate question to Micah. Now is when Tatters wanders back, a jacket thrown over her dress, hands in her pockets, bare feet unconcerned with the debris-strewn surface over which she walks. Standing a few paces from the knot of people she watches with her brown knitted in concern, quietly. Everything is okay, right? Before Micah retreats, Nox transfers her hand from Lucien's knee to Micah's fingers, just a light touch before he's out of range. "Thank you..." Then there is medicing questions to cope with, her black on black eyes shifting to Morgan without her head moving. "I am Nox, it is Thursday," she murmurs as she goes back to trying to lean on Lucien without actually doing so. As much as one /can/ while lying supine in a ruined ballgown. To him, she adds with a soft hum, "...I would like another dress." See? She's fine, really! Lucien, at least, shifts helpfully to provide a better kneeling-lap for leaning on. "Mmm. I know several good tailors. Perhaps the next ball we attend will end less, ah." His green eyes flick up and around the debris. "Interestingly." "I figure, these things happen about once a week. It's like friggen clockwork." Tatters comments from the fringes, deadpan and not entirely unserious. "I'll, like, let you know the next time a big fight happens, that'll give you a few days of trouble-free partying hopefully." “Oh, /hon/, no need for thanks but you’re /welcome/,” Micah manages to reply before Important Medical Things take precedence over conversation. << I’m fine. I just cowered behind furniture and prepared to throw glasses in a pinch, >> he answers Jax in a light mental tone. He’s suddenly /torn/ at the question. Wanting to make sure Nox is okay. Wanting to make sure /Jax/ is okay. << I guess they have her covered and we can check on her tomorrow. She’s stable. >> Morgan shuts her eyes tight a moment after securing the burn protection, shaking her head. This is not exactly what she is used to, and several things she goes for in her kit are put back before they are unwrapped or used. A look over her shoulder at her incoming partner has one hand flashing up, a couple quick handsignals that send him out to the outside again. Dark green eyes look to black on black ones without a hint of flinching away. "Okay, we're going to put you on the least comfortable fake bed ever, hook you up to some oxygen, and get you out of here. Take you to the ER, let them clean the burns better and give you some ointments for it." There's a pause, tongue swiping over her top lip. "How's your pain doing?" << M'fine, >> Jackson is prompt to answer when he feels that torn feeling in Micah. He stands a little taller, leans against Micah a little bit less. << You helped. You fix people. >> His fingers lift to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Once a week. Y'think we're clear through to Easter, cuz I don't want to ruin /that/ suit too." "At least three days of grace now, mm?" Nox's smile ranges towards Tatters now as she settles against Lucien then falls still again. "Though I will sit out the next one, I think," she says as she closes her eyes. They remain closed as she murmurs, "Thank you, ma'am. I am in no pain at the moment. Can Lucien ride with us?" "I will stay with you." Lucien doesn't say this like a question. His fingers still trail against Nox's arm, contributing heavily to that No Pain, with a side dose of soothing calm. "I admit I would prefer sitting these out, as well. It would be murder on my clothing budget." Tatters nods in sympathy alongside Lucien's concern, then gives Nox a smile, slightly weak. "If you /don't/ take it easy, I'm going to, like, I dunno. Make you take it easy." "You can call me Morgan. Ma'am is a bit too staid for me, just yet." There's a glance at the handsome guy she keeps touching who's offering the pretty replacement dress. "Okay, Lucien is on board." There's that lingering in a glance, before she's rising at the approach of her partner. "Anyone else you'd like to have contacted?" She asks Nox, before she's moving along the side of the injured. "Excuse us just one second, if you would?" She asks Lucien, head tipping. "Once we get her up and strapped in, you can get close again. << No. Nonono. I see what you’re doin’. We can go. I mean, she seems taken care of pretty well. >> Somewhere in the back of Micah’s head he’s putting together all of these gestures between Lucien and Nox and there is a quiet, high-pitched, joyful sort of /squeeing/. But, right, so ADD. Back to fussing over Jax. << You need to rest. All that…lightin’ stuff. You must be fit to fall over. >> “Let us know which hospital an’ room y’all end up in so we can check up, okay?” Jax's lips curl upward at Micah's inward squeeing. "Take care, Nox. Let us -- what he said." There's distinct worry in his mind, though his tone is light. "We'll come an' fuss over you cuz we're aces at that." << M'/fine/, >> he insists, inside, but there's juuust a little bit more weight leaning up against Micah as his posture shifts again. "Tatters, are you good at forcibly relaxin' people?" "I am good at relaxing people," Lucien says, with a thin twitch of lips that might be a smile. He is reluctant to move, when Morgan asks. He /does/, though, acknowledging the medic with a polite tip of his head before his hand moves away. It takes a few moments, but the cooling-numbing pain relief fades, leaving Nox to feel the actual impact of her burns as he stands, and steps back. His brow creases almost the moment his hand leaves Nox, lips pressing together. Tatters grins. "No. But I can sit on them. It's more of, like, a deterrent than a relaxant. Which means it's mostly up to Lucy." He gets a look. "Take care of her, okay?" Morgan /also/ gets that look, and then she's back to Nox, smiling. "Please let me know where they send you? I'd like to visit." "Speakin' of forcibly relaxin', I'm takin' Mr. Big Damn Hero here home /now/." Micah gives Jax a narrow-eyed look. << You're goin' now, stubborn-boy. >> "You just work on gettin' better, sugar. We'll come bring y'some sunshine tomorrow if you're up for it." He flashes Nox a warm smile, as if the brighter the smile, the faster she'll get better. Morgan returns the nod, aware of the reluctance. She's watching Nox of course, as she's helping lift her up onto the stretcher. So as that relief fades, and the pain starts intrude on Nox's awareness, Morgan's dark green gaze pins Lucien. Only for a moment, then her gaze is back on Nox, strapping her in with care for the burned areas, only the faintest brush of fingers along the back of Nox's hand. That pain will start to dissipate all over again, and Morgan will give her a smile as she hooks up the annoying oxygen tube to her nose. She gives Tatters a look, a hint of a smile. "She'll be better in no time, guys. Say au revoir. " She starts heading to lead the stretcher with Nox on it out to the bus, while her still unnamed partner does the pushing. "Y'can count on that," Jackson says, lightly cheerful. "I don't /go/ nowhere without bringing the sunshine. But it'll be the nonhurty kind, yeah?" He answers the narrow-eyed look with a bump of his shoulder, an amused, << Yessir. >> "-- kinda cheatin', though," he adds, to Micah, "I mean, was only just in the nick'a time cuz we were all already /sittin'/ here." "Of course. And we will pray they don't keep me for too long." Nox says, as to her future location and notifying people. She's smiling at the pair of Jax and Micah, but it's Tatters who receives the longest look. "Not literal sunshine, one hopes, yes." Then her eyes close and though her outward demeanor remains calm, quiet, the charcoal shade of her skin goes ashen when Lucien withdraws and her extremities lose their definition. It musses with some of the burn bandages Morgan has laid, making them sag, but she seems unaware of it. She seems unaware of much of anything, in fact, as she is transferred from floor to stretcher with a sad whisper of organza. Fortunately her color is quick to return, with Morgan's attentions, but she seems inclined to give in to exhaustion and continue to rest. Micah frowns at Nox's fading, eager to do something... But, no. The professionals have it. He should tend to the ones who need /his/ tending. "Y'seem to have a way of bein' /right/ where y'need to be, hon." Micah takes one of Jax's wrists and tugtugs at his arm like a puppy. "And /ohlook/ y'need to be gettin' some sleep now." Lucien is Totally Not Fretting At All, look how quiet and calm he's standing, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Morgan tend to Nox. But, okay, his eyes are kind of /intently/ on the shadow-woman, and his fingers press hard at the crooks of his arms. Jaw tight, mouth pressed into a thin line. It doesn't relax as he starts along with the stretcher, giving the others there a terse nod and then (totally not hurrying) following after Morgan and Nox. Tatters nods at Morgan, then watches Nox closely while she's taken away, smiling and raising a hand to wave farewell. And then her eye twitches, as though she's responding to a voice the others can't hear, and an annoyed glance towards the door spots her a dark-haired woman beckoning her over. "Ugh, need to deal with these guys. Stay safe, guys." And then she's off, her once-tall posture beginning once more to revert to its usual hunch. Morgan keeps that interference up on Nox as she is loaded up into the ambulance, and offering Lucien a hand up after she climbs inside. There's a little fussing with the bandage, but Morgan's keeping quiet, except for the boring questions that will come once they get going. The usual questions about allergies and reactions to any substances. Poor medical personnel, needing to deal with physical mutations. Nox has no satisfying answers for Morgan's inquiries, though she remains surprisingly stable--the combination of care and lack of pain both contributing. Her only request is that they /try/ to dim the lights. It's bad enough that the fairy tale has ended but to suffer florescent bulbs for the entire ride... No thank you. | |
