ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Responsibilities

Vignette - Responsibilities
Dramatis Personae Peter, Hank	2013-02-28 Peter gets his stitches out. McCoy opines on science and responsibility.
Location <XS> Medical Lab
Gleaming and sterile, the school's medical facility is all cool science in contrast to the mansion's old-world old-fashion. All stainless steel and antiseptic tinge, the room is filled with the quiet whir-click of the various implements that comprise its medical equipment -- all state-of the art. The hospital beds are curtained off for privacy when they have patients, and in one of the alcoves there is a small operating theatre visible. More heavy-duty equipment is visible in the lab in the back, where the securely locked cabinets keep sensitive equipment out of the reach of teenage fingers. Peter's black hoodie and shirt are neatly folded on one of the stainless steel tables; he sits upright, his chest and back bare, his glasses and sling placed on a nearby countertop. A carefully taped bandage is on his left shoulder. Doctor Henry McCoy -- blue, furry, and clad in a shirt, tie, labcoat, and glasses -- inspects the wound closely as he slowly peels the bandage back. As he does so, he sniffs curiously at it. "...vinegar?" "Uh." Peter glances shiftily from side to side. "...science experiment exploded." "Ah, the sacrifices we make in the name of progress," Dr. McCoy responds, his tone gentle-yet-teasing. As the bandage is removed, the injury -- a long, jagged, two inch tear -- is exposed. Black stitches criss-cross over it -- the skin around it is slightly pink, and glistens with the fresh coat of antibacterial gel. "This may sting," he warns, reaching one thick, clawed digit upward to delicately prod around the injury. Peter winces, but doesn't call out. "We'll remove the stitches now," Dr. McCoy says. "But you should refrain from over-exerting your arm. Say, another week, perhaps? At least until the soreness has subsided." He moves for a set of scissors and medical pliers, beginning to clip. "No climbing trees -- or jumping across buildings. And _certainly_ no saving children from fires." Peter grimaces as Dr. McCoy begins to remove the stitches, but otherwise remains quiet. At least up until the point where he mentions 'saving children from fires'. "I didn't -- I mean, huh?" Dr. McCoy hums a little musical number as he works. "You know, Peter, I do occasionally read the newspaper. A person capable of leaping extraordinary distances saves two children and a mother from a tenement blaze; shortly thereafter, you arrive -- suffering from smoke inhalation, minor burns, and a shoulder laceration." "That was -- I was _there_, but the guy who did this -- he had, like, these... web things. I didn't -- do anything," Peter says, blushing red. "Were you aware," Doctor McCoy mentions with yet another snip, "that vinegar can dissolve egg-shells?" "I--uh. Uh--oh?" Peter says, trying not to squirm. "Vinegar contains acetic acid; a compound that breaks apart calcium carbonate crystals. It also works -- with varying levels of efficacy -- on proteins." Another clip; the stitches are nearly gone. "Did you also know that spidersilk is largely a mixture of protein and amino acids?" "Uh... oh. Wow," Peter says, and now he's staring at his shoes. "That's -- um -- fascinating." The last stitch is removed. The scissors and pliers clank into the bottom of a disinfection tray. "Anonymous good deeds demonstrate a certain appreciable character." A massive, furred paw descends upon Peter's good shoulder. "However, should a member of Xavier's student population be discovered in the process of a criminal act, no matter how well-warranted -- and furthermore, discovered to be using mutant powers to facilitate such an act -- it could easily draw unwanted attention to our facilities. Anonymity is our shield, Peter." Dr. McCoy's hand squeezes. "Something to contemplate, perhaps." "I uh, yes," Peter admits, sounding suddenly feeble. "I'll -- I'll keep that in mind." "Good. Now, off with you. Oh, and one more thing -- as much as I detest the Daily Bugle, I'll be reading it with regularity for the next week," Dr. McCoy says. "I sincerely hope I will not encounter any articles about so-called 'Spider-Dudes'." "Yessir," Peter mumbles, hopping off the steel gurney and snatching up his clothes. Still blushing, he bolts for the door.