2012 02 02 Michael Michaels And Dajan

Log Title:
Michael, Michaels, and Dajan

Dajan, Morbius, Phantasm

IC Date:
2 Feb 2012

Bellvue Hospital - New York

Brief log summary::
Dajan pops in for treatment, Mike is coming out of a treatment, and Morbius is playing doctor. Minds out of the gutter people.


There is no TS in this log::

Post your log::


Dajan really wanted nothing more than a hot bath after the events earlier in the day. Crazy Mole Man. Honey Badgers. That was bad enough, but then, just as she finally got away from the fanged mind controlled animals — Zap. Freeze ray. She had to stand there like a statue, unable to do more than talk through her teeth, until Black Knight thawed her out.

Having already had one bout of frostbite, she decides the best thing to do is seek out a hospital, despite her worries of how to pay for it. So she shows up at the ER, wrapped in the thick, warm, blue blanket she got from Ben Grimm, bearing the recognizable (4) logo. This may, her logic dictates, indicate she is one of many people seeking medical attention for the same problem.

The ER here at Bellvue has settled down a little, but it's still abuzz. Super-villain attacks tend to do that. In the midst of it is one man still getting his 'sea legs' back, so to speak. He stands at the admittance station, holding a chart and looking up at the Big Board "Alright, but Mandy said that we were prioritizing - wait," he flips a few pages on the chart, "contraindicated. Let's use the albuterol instead." He hands the chart off to a nearby RN "Thank you, Judith." He seems a tony bit flustered, but mostly controlled. His eyes drift across the room, lighting on Dajan…and the blanket. For a moment, he almost starts, that symbol…he seems to visibly shake something off as he approaches the young woman, "How long have you been sitting here?" he asks solicitously.

Dajan has been reading a magazine as best she can. She's much warmer than when she arrived, thanks to said blanket. She looks up and around as she is addressed. "Who, who me?" She glances around one more time. Wow, somebody is talking to her, finally. "…um, I think it was 4:30 when I got here, sir," she answers, politely. She glances up at the clock. "So. Um. Almost four hours." After all, she's not bleeding heavily or in obvious respiratory distress.

That Crazy Nastyass Honey Badger. There's no raven to fill in the bird quota of that video's repetoire unfortunately. But instead, there is a Mike. No, there was no emergency. But with a tour coming up and having what could very easily be considered a sleep disorder, now was a good time to see his somnologist and make sure his medication was up to date. Slip of paper in hand, he's making his way towards an exit only to spot a familiar face over towards the emergency waiting room. Blinking to the sight, the musician's steps adjust, moving out of the way of the foot traffic and more hugging alongside the wall as he looks to Dajan. Damn. Hurt again? What?

Dr. Michaels sighs softly, "Apologies Miss…" he leaves that off for the moment, "Judith, where's her-" he's handed a chart as a woman walks by, she doesn't even look his way - efficient, "LeDoux." He glances over it, muttering softly, "Exposure, proximity to animals, potential disease vectors, BP, O2…" for a moment he almost seems to forget she is there before asking, "And how are you feeling right now?" as he gets out a blood-pressure cuff and affixes it to her arm.

"Oh, it's okay, Doctor," Dajan says, quietly. "Didn't wanna kick up a fuss. Things were worse for other people out there." Earthquakes in New York are rare things, after all. People could've had heart attacks. Subway trains could've stopped with pregnant women in labor on them. These are all things Dajan has seen go by since she gave her name and info. "I think more I'm worried 'bout the frostbite than the rabies. Honey badgers din' lay a claw on me." Though it was a close thing, says her expression. "Still freezin'," she answers his question as she agreeably gets out of her coat and offers him her arm.

Mike doesn't really move from his spot, resting against the wall, he looks to the exchange a bit quietly but opts not to come within listening distance. His lingering does get noticed by one nurse who glances to him curiously. The rocker glances to the nurse. "…waiting for someone." He offers in explanation.

Dr. Michaels hmms softly, "Blood glucose levels might still be elevated." he pauses, and actually -explains- to the young lady, "Mild hypothermia may be accompanied by hyperglycemia, glucose consumption by cells and insulin secretion both decrease…you're still shivering, muscle activity is still a bit depressed." He pauses again, only for a moment, "Weight…mmm, I think I'm going to want to give you a little insulin, just to be safe, low dosage. It will bring your blood sugar levels down, it should also make you feel a bit more energetic."

Dajan listens, learning new and interesting medical information. "Whatever you say. You're the doctor." She's not the troublesome sort of patient who believes she knows better than the man who, you know, went to school for years and years. And yes, she is a teeny bit on the skinny side, as evidenced by the "One fifteen" she replies. "It'd be cool to stop feelin' like all I wanna do is curl up in a ball next to a fire an' go to sleep, yeah," she agrees — if not eagerly, at least with a hopeful note in her voice.

It seems saying you're 'waiting for someone' does not give someone a pass to just hang out next to the wall in the hallway. This is evidenced by the nurse shooing Mike into the waiting room. He glances back towards the nurse before he shrugs, walking over to the seats, he plops himself down, and glances over to Dajan and the doctor once more.

Dr. Michaels stands up, striding over to one of those carts that looks like an airplane snack cart. He opens a drawer and fishes out a packaged syringe, a small bottle of clear fluid, a container of cotton balls, and a small bottle of iodine, "Since we're a bit full up, I think we can handle this here." He smiles, just a bit, and says, "I won't tell if you won't." -Obviously- the various nurses and other doctors can see him, but…it's been so long since something as simple as 'bedside manner' had any meaning for the man. For a moment he seems to brighten up, it's been a long day and honestly? The doctor looks a bit pale and somewhat drawn…partially that but there's more at work as well…he's been here a bit long. It's not an emergency, not yet.

Dajan tries not to cringe at the sight of the needle, and sits up straighter. She rolls up her sleeve so her arm is bare, and looks away. "I should prolly mention I had a touch of frostbite about two weeks ago. Y'think gettin' zapped is gonna slow down my recovery from that?" A quick thinker in the heat of the moment, but other stuff comes to her slowly. Stuff that miiiiiight be a touch important. But she's learning. Time was she'd have only remembered to say this three or four days from now.

With the closer proximity, Mike is able to overhear a bit more of the conversation going on between the two. A brow lifts curiously as he hears the bit about being zapped but he starts to turn his head aside, glancing elsewhere.

"This sort of thing happens often?" the doctor asks. He hesitates, then pauses as he's just about to open the syringe. Quietly he asks, "Young lady…do you happen to have any…preexisting conditions I might need to be made aware of?"

"Well…" Dajan has to think about how to answer that one. "Not until the past couple months," is what she finally decides to go with. "I seem to have this case of dumb luck that makes me wander into the strangest situations. I mean, aren't there like, twelve million people in this city?" She considers again, blanching a little under her freckles. "…um, preexistin' conditions like what?" Dare she mention the fact that she got drugged by handling a ninja sword a week and a half ago? He's only giving her insulin, right, not taking her blood, so she shouldn't have to mention being a mutant in a crowded ER. She is careful not to go all shifty-eyed. Having a suspicious mother and six siblings make that a survival trait.

Dr. 'Michaels'…or rather, Dr. Michael -Morbius- has seen a great many things in his life. Things that would stagger and amaze even some of the more jaded 'superhumans'. "I only ask to make sure there are no unusual…biochemical issues I should be aware of." He knows very well the potential issues, but with mutants (and her reluctance is giving him a bit of a 'read' on the liklihood of that) it isn't always the case.

Dajan's shoulders droop. "Got drugged by accident, about a week ago," she admits. Then she stands up, and whispers that last, oh so dangerous word in the doctor's ear, rather than say it out loud. Hopefully those around her will think she's just embarrassed about a rash or something. Hopefully no one around her besides herself has enhanced hearing. She sits back down, though, and looks up at him with wide, dewy eyes; she's just put a /lot/ of trust in him, and is doing her best to silently encourage him to be worthy of it.

As Dajan moves to whisper something in the doctor's ear, Mike can only guess what it was that she mentioned. There's a bit of a frown as a scene upon a high rooftop comes to mind. Pale eyes look over to the Doctor, eyeing his face for any sign of a reaction.

The doctor hesitates, then does not open the syringe. Instead, he goes back to the cart to obtain a slightly different one, "In this case, I think it's safest to draw a quick sample and check for any such…abnormalities before I introduce an insulin dosage." He pats her hand reassuringly, "Don't worry, I have run of the lab, it won't take long. I want to run a test on the blood sample I'll take." So yes, needle-stickies are on the horizon.

"…do you…do you gotta take my blood?" Dajan asks, expression crumpling slightly. "I mean, if the drug did any permanent damage, I'd've turned all freaked out sooner, right?" But her upbringing kicks in. She bites her lower lip and extends her arm toward him like a good girl, murmuring under her breath in Creole.

After the blood sample is taken, Mike waits for the Doctor to start to turn before he gets up, walking over to Dajan, giving a smile. "I thought I recognized you," he greets, voice low as he offers a nod and a brief explanation, "You were on your way into to the Baxter building when I was on my way out."

Dr. Michaels heads off with another reassuring statement, "Don't worry, confidentiality and all. I just want to introduce an equivalent dosage to the sample and see if we get uptake."

Dajan winces and squeezes her eyes shut until the needle is removed. She swallows hard, and then opens her eyes as someone new addresses her. "Oh, you were?" Dajan asks, tilting her head like a bewildered kitten. "Sorry, I been in an' outta there a good little bit in the past few days. Forgive my awful manners."

Dajan turns her gaze over to the doctor as he walks off with her sample. "Yes sir," she says, trying to sound confident, but only managing sort of weak and miserable. She shrugs back into her coat and blanket, still cold. Or maybe just needing the illusion of warmth for comfort.

"I think I was only there once when you came in." Mike assures, giving a bit of a shrug and a warm smile, the voice lowers a bit, settling to a conversational tone meant just for Dajan, "It was when Spider-man brought you in and Ben recieved you. I think you were out at the time. Only caught a bit of a glimpse though. Had to leave."

Dajan has to think about that for a sec. "I was —" she starts, then trails off, expression pensive. "Unconscious for that, yeah." She looks up at him. "Well, any friend of theirs is a friend of mine," she decides, offering Mike her right hand despite it being attached to the arm that just got a needle stuck in it. "Dajan. Dajan LeDoux."

Mike takes the offered hand, giving it a gentle shake, mindful of the arm before allowing for her to take her hand back. "Mike Hannigan." He offers back before turning the conversation back to her, "So, judging from you being here instead of there, the other thing turned out alright?"

In the hematology lab, Dr. Morbius relaxes a bit, no one else there at the moment. Long day, which for him, can be a problem. He steadies himself on a table with both hands, drawing in a deep breath. His features are a bit pale. Another dose of the serum won't work anyway, not until…his eyes go to the syringe, still mostly full after he tested a few drops with insulin. All is normal with the sample, and the girl -was- concerned about privacy…

A quick look around and pulls the plunger back from the other side, hurriedly downing the contents with a gulp and a soft gasp. He breathes in slowly…so little, but he was dosed anyway, that -should- give him a bit more time, shift's almost over anyway. Feeling uncomfortably like an alcoholic who just snuck a drink at work, he disposes of the syringe and slide in the biohazard bin before straightening his clothing and heading back towards the waiting room.

"I got poked an' prodded by bots for a couple days. But eventually Miz Richards let me borrow a jacket an' a pair of shoes so I could go home. She'd'a prolly let me ride in the Fantasticar again, but I was feelin' like I just needed a touch o' the mundane by that point, y'know?" Not that the bright yellow Mazarati she got picked up in was all that mundane, but it's all about comparison. "An' no crazy side-effects. I don't know kung fu. Just the same Tae bo I keep in shape with. Thanks for askin', Mike. Awfully nice of you."

"Well, you seemed out of it from what I could tell." Mike replies, giving a nod, "And kung-fu? So there was a reason for that street-ninja/harem hybrid look?"

Dajan flushes, and pulls a face. "I didn't buy it!" She sighs, and adds, more quietly, "At least, not under my own will. I was drugged, and it made me suggestible or somethin', near as anybody would tell me." This is a sore point with her; the big hero types thinking she's just a kid and can't handle the truth. Or at least, that's her supposition. "If it were anythin' more serious, I'm sure they'd'a locked me up in Mr. Richards' lab, right?"

The doctor returns, looking - well, 'refreshed' is a good word for it, less tired and drawn, "Well, young lady, a normal response. So, I've figured the dosage and this should get you feeling better well…in a few minutes, actually. Insulin works very rapidly." He finally opens the other, smaller syringe and fills it from the small bottle, "But I might suggest you have the frostbite you mentioned checked out. Potential tissue damage should be taken seriously." He studiously ignores her friend, if he wants to speak, he will. Professionalism, after all.

"Yessir." Dajan drops the blanket. And the coat. And offers her arm again for another shot. "I've been looked at a couple times since then." Fortuantely, one of the other people in her boarding house is a first year intern trying to pay off loans, and Dajan's a good cook with some bartering sense. "Thank you, Doctor. Really appreciate it. Anythin' else I need to do aside from get a warm meal in me?" Four hours of waiting is enough to make anybody hungry, so maybe that little touch of sympathy in Dajan's expression is because she supposes the poor doctor is overworked and probably hungry too.

Mike shakes his head, "Yeah, got to hate it when that happens. Think you're doing alright and someone just goes and messes with you." With the doctor returning, Mike steps back, growing silent as he allows the doctor to have the floor. At the mention of having the frostbite checked out, he looks over to Dajan, "Didn't they treat that when you were brought th-?" He pauses as Dajan answers his question. Well, alrighty then.

Dr. Michaels is an expert with the needle, in and out as quick as possible, a little cotton, a brightly-coloured strip of medical tape to hold it in place, "There. You should be feeling the effects very shortly. Your body wasn't taking up the glucose in your bloodstream, leaving you somewhat…drained." He watches her eyes, just to be on the safe side, "As for anything else…make sure you watch any affected areas. Check for sensitivity, discolouration, skin slough - I'm sure you've been told this before, but…"

Dajan listens, and actually pops out her phone to make notes. "I have," she tells him, looking back up after thumbing in his recommendations. "Never hurts to keep 'em on hand, though. I am hopin' this is the last time I'mma be exposed to extreme cold unprepared. 'Least I had shoes on this time." She rolls her eyes and gives Mike a wry grin.

Mike chuckles a bit as she points that out, slipping his prescription into his pocket as he tilts his head, "Yeah, I guess that would be some improvement."

"If this is going to be a recurring motif, perhaps you should consider some better protective clothing?" the doctor suggests, "Or if you have friends who might provide some training." he quiets down after that, not wanting to give away too much himself.

Dajan pockets her phone and gets to her feet, testing how it feels to stand up on one foot or the other. They seem to be holding her weight and doing nothing she doesn't expect. She turns a warm smile on the Doctor. "Yeah, been given that advice already." She holds up one black boot. It's actually a fairly rugged pair — not the sort one would find in Payless. It's meant for hiking and climbing and should hold her in good stead for warmth as well. "An' I'm takin' it. These ain't exactly, hayacallems, unstable molecules, but I don' know the Richards family like that."

"Haya- callems?" Mike repeats, the tone of his voice pretty much revealing he has no clue what the HELL that is.

"But you do know the…them?" Dr. Michaels doesn't say the team name, not here. Studiously nonchalant about it, in fact. His mind races for a moment, Dr. Richards is brilliant, potentially useful - then again they may try to take him into custody should he approach, and this young woman knows them…he shelves it, internally, but he will get back to this, "I hope they're giving you good advice, at least."

Dajan blushes slightly, as her accent is pointed out to make her difficult to understand. A clear sign she was tired and out of sorts; she is usually better about speaking 'regular' English around people she doesn't know. "How. Do. You. Call. Them," she tells Mike, expanding that mess of syllables that confused him. "I remembered you call them 'unstable molecules' a second later." Her expression goes momentarily distant and pensive.

To the doctor's inquiry, she comes back to the here-and-now. "Met them a time or two, sir," she clarifies. "They're … congenial acquaintances, I'd say. Not like I'm invited over for tea'n' cookies on the regular, but they've been very kind to me. Made sure I wasn't going to get myself in any more trouble." Her speech is quickening a little too — sure sign the insulin's doing its job and bringing her energy level back up.

Given the explanation, Mike blinks, "Oh." He grimaces a bit as he considers the sound and the meaning, putting them together. Seeing the expression upon her face, he turns to look towards the doctor. "They're… kind of like that with anyone really." He adds in, playing down what connection they have to Dajan, " Just how they are. Good type, if someone's hurt bad and they're able to help, they just do."

Dr. Michaels smiles, just a touch, "Yes, I…have an idea what that's like." He feels good, really, he -helped- someone, and not by doing anything terrible. For just a moment he can forget the ravening monster coiled just beneath the surface. It was a little thing, but today, he was a -healer- again. "Take this to the desk over there." he hands a sheet to Dajan, "If you have insurance, give them your information, if not…we have a policy in place for 'special circumstances'." Many places in New York do, after all.

Dajan smiles warmly. "Thanks very much, Dr. —" She glances at the nametag again, "Michaels. Now I know who to come to when I need something." She impulsively hugs him when he describes that there's a policy in place for 'special circumstances' — i.e. broke people. "What a relief to know I don't have to worry about gettin' sick again." She takes the form and all but skips off, trailing the blanket behind her like a kid.

Mike watches Dajan skip away for a bit before he turns to look to the doctor, giving a bit of a nod to him, "Thanks." That given, he makes his way over to the desk Dajan is heading to.

Dr. Michaels actually mostly meant 'supervillain attacks' but what the heck, ERs deal with both on a distressingly regular basis. He does, however, stiffen a bit in surprise at the unexpected hug. He watches her go, then shakes his head slowly, still a touch of a smile on his face, "You're very welcome." he notes, then heads to the duty nurse to -finally- get off shift. As he turns his face from his patient and her friend his features harden a bit, tonight…he will have to put 'Dr Morgan Michaels' away. It's been too long, and tonight…some criminal is going to have to die. And tonight, it will be a conscious choice, not the actions of a ravening animal.

Dajan gets her form and folds it away into a coat pocket, where it soon will be forgotten. "Nice runnin' into you again while I'm awake, Mr. Mike," she tells Mike. Then she fishes into her pocket for a phone. "I'm gonna see if I can't ring up a friend to get a ride. I don't feel like takin' the subway after all this excitement." She gives both men a sort of salute wave as she heads for the automatic doors out of the hospital and back out to what passes for fresh air in the New York night.

Mike gives a bit of a nod, "Nice running into you again." He lingers near the desk, waiting for her to leave his sights before the smile drops a bit. Turning to the desk, he starts to pull out his wallet and talks to the nurse…

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