#( dh ft. mm: 001 )

[saltedearths]

If it gets him out fast enough, he takes a spare buisness card that has his hospital contact information and slides it into his palm. There's nothing here that makes him want Max to stay less than his presence, evident by the fact that he's praying that someone comes to his door with a trauma. Anyone. "Sure, Mr. Maddox. Off you get," he says in a half-clipped tone, in a voice of someone desperate for an excuse not to go somewhere. Especially to that goddamn bar. He will not, he refuses! There has to be some line! "And please remember to come back to the hospital for your next couple of injections spaced between two weeks. Your next one will come in two to three days." And hopefully not include Dante as the attending physician. Get an intern to do it. "See you around."

"woah, doctor," he starts, brows shooting up. "didn't i just tell you to be couth? you can't be talking like that on the clock. at least wait until after hours to offer me your special prescriptions." max bats his eyelids, innocently flattered, as he snatches the note to stuff into his pocket. here's to a nice day off, courtesy of dr. hernandez! "just give me your card and i'll be out of your hair. but you should come by the bar later. i'm nixing the leash, but we can talk about the gag..."

[saltedearths]

Frustrating. The man is frustrating, even as he tries to get him into bed with him. But Dante can work with frustrating, having been dealing with belligerent patients and other doctors who think they know better (And Ari, but that's always a given) and work around it. With a quickness back from when he needed to use it out in the field, he simply grabs him by the belt loops and drags him to where the back is. Concealed behind the bar, enough privacy so that they both can deal with what they want. Dragging him is rough, ready, harsh, everything that Dante is, and what Maddox's made him.

"Maddox, I think I have enough decency to know that you bring plenty of people back here. I'm not special. But I have good news for you. You know what that is?" He leans in and uses his other hand to grab Maddox's wrist, putting the palm of it on his already hardening cock, and moving up to where the button of his fly is. The grip he has would bruise, and the pace he drags it over his jeans makes his skin shiver. "Your sucker's good and ready, Mr. Morrison." His breath is hot on his ear as he grins, a smile in his voice. "Now all you need to do, is unwrap it, and suck. Can you do that, at least?"

it would have been the easiest thing in the world, to move himself a hair's width, to lean in and do what he's been thinking of doing since dante had waltzed his way in. maybe a little before. he's only a man, too. and men are easily tempted. isn't his One True Friend always saying as much? but temptation is as much a weapon as it is an injury—he moves back instead of forth. "you want to see my back room already? we've only just gotten started," he says, cheeky as always. yeah, that's right. the insufferable attitude stays on during sex! "we should start with the front." slipping to the side, he pulls open the little gate separating the bar from the rest of the room. "just don't go telling everyone i let you back here. they might get jealous."

[saltedearths]

There's a crack in his skull, which might mean his tooth giving up on him, or perhaps the last remnants of his sanity trying to fight against his anger, giving him a sharp, stabbing pain against his temple. Dante has the wherewithal to simply give him a Look™ and simply make his way to his now, hopefully sanitized and de-batted office. He grabs his prescription pad and makes a note, and simply prints out a medical certificate, complete with template and bored look.

"Neither am I, but you look like someone who needs to get a leash. Or a gag," he says, the candlewick of his social battery drained all too fast. "If I could prescribe it, I would. But honestly? I'd rather you just finish this visit, Maddox."

max waits silently, patiently, for dante's temper to burst like an expired firecracker, but the moment never comes. wow, is he in anger management classes? max remembers his days in them, himself. "alright, alright," he says, sliding off of the exam table and grabbing his jacket. "i'm coming. just don't say it like that. you sound like you're beckoning a dog—not to yuck your yums, but i'm not into petplay."

[saltedearths]

Instinctively, Dante sighs and shakes his head. He starts to grab at the inside of his coat, and upon realizing that he's left his things in his office, an office now filled with a bat and what he assumed were Animal Control agents, he simply shuts his eyes. Maybe if he closes them and he opens hem again, it'll reboot him like a computer. No such luck, and he simply pages an intern about the status of his office.

"Come on, let's get back to my office—I'm sure that Animal Control's done their job, and it's time to finish mine up," he says, beckoning Maddox up from his chair. "Up you get, Max. Follow me back."

"you mind giving me a doctor's note for that? crazy thing about my boss is that he won't just take my word for it." in all actuality, maddox's boss is fairly understanding of the occasional illness, but not quite satisfied with the nuisance he's been, he makes the extra work for dante anyway. besides, it's probably useful to have his signature laying around somewhere. "and your card?" he adds, smiling too pleasantly for his own good. "just in case i need to contact you."

[saltedearths]

Dante won't even fight that—even he knows that the public health system is trash, and it's mostly why he went to Saint Peter's. Not much better than a government funded hospital, but he can help himself to a half-decent salary with his tenure and expertise. He has the decency to at least administer treatment to Maddox, a pinched smile where an easygoing one should come from. He can concede this round, just so the interaction is done. He might need a drink—and God knows that he'll run into this one soon after.

"You might contract a fever after taking a flu shot, and know that it'll pass, so light work after this. Pain in your arms is common, after taking both the anti-rabies shot and a flu vaccine," he says trying to get out every last bit of pertinent information. Medical malpractice suits cost too much to deal with. "Take it easy and have a good day, Mr. Morrison. Contact me, or come back in if anything lasts more than three to five days."

maddox fixes him with a look that says more than words ever could—yeah, we both know that's a bunch of bullshit. he doesn't expect dante to ever recognize the greatness in his presence—and as long as it benefits him, he'll only posture in his defense. still, he lends his criticism. if he's going to lie, he might as well be convincing about it. "i thought all i had to do was be afraid of needles. nicaragua? sheesh. good to see my tax dollars are hard at work." nonetheless, he files the information down in some unmarked corner of his mind for later. he doubts it will ever get him hospitality, but maybe with the right squeeze... information. office entry, if nothing else. "so what's my verdict? am i good to go or what?"

[saltedearths]

"It's more neutral than anything," he says, trying not to let his blood pressure rise as Max seems to want to push more buttons than most of his other patients. So he doesn't exactly think that his brand of fuckery would think of taking an itemized list off accounting, but apparently, punk really isn't dead, and has managed to find a way out of their shoddy little healthcare system in general. But he's not going to admit that. Now, anyway.

The snide comment makes him roll his eyes and try to fight back a smile, only barely winning with an upturned corner of his lip as he shakes his head. "Sure," he says, lying even more just to belabor the point, which he manages to lose along the way. Dante's a mix of exhausted, exasperated, amused and ready to throw his ass out the hospital with a kick for good measure—he doesn't know how, but that's practically a feat. "Just be nicer and bring me triple-strength coffee from, I don't know, Nicaragua? Somewhere nice. That should do it."

"why do you say that like you're surprised?" it's obvious that dante underestimates his intelligence. he's a nuisance, a gnat to swat at and not a serpent in the grass. that's fine—the more people that dismiss him as some punk, the more work he can actually get done. imagine that, there are some brain cells kicking away inside after all... but if that's between him and hell, so be it. max doesn't fight the flu shot, either. it seems like malice on dante's part to put them both in separate arms, but he doesn't question him outright. that's reserved for something truly ridiculous, like the thought that he had ever displayed any level of courtesy in his life. sure, neither had he. that isn't the point. "you'd have better bedside manners? i'll believe it when i see it.

[saltedearths]

"It's not a stupid idea to get an itemized list. Pisses admin off, but I'm not complaining." Dante would piss anyone off, but in the magic few times that he manages o do i for he "greater good" it always feels a little sweet, even when the greater good meant helping a bratty little bartender with rabies and a flu shot. "Now, we're going to get to the flu shot. Let me at your other arm."

Disinfecting the injection site, Dante takes a skim across his numerous tattoos and bites his tongue—small talk wasn't for him, but neither was silence for Max. So the two simply battled it out, trying to eke out what they preferred as the procedure went on. "Christ," Dante's voice is low before responding and moving Max's arm, just to get a clear shot at the muscle. "I would have much better bedside manners, for one," he lies, trying to be cordial. "And it at least knows what to do when you come in conscious the next time."

"you remembered, how sweet." everyone at st. peter's is used to his particular song and dance by now. ever since he discovered itemized lists, he's insisted on it. hey, it works! the important thing is that it cuts down on all those nasty consequences for his actions—at least as far as medical bills goes. rabies is just the newest addition to his numerous make out sessions with death. max only rolls his eyes as dante approaches with the syringe, a marked improvement from his usual endless jabbering. the needle pinches and then it's over. rabies resigned! "i'm not. obviously. what were you gonna do if i was, hold my hand?" and... he's back.

[saltedearths]

"If you want, an itemized list for the treatments will be available to you at accounting, Mr. Morrison." The pointed use of formality that Dante uses hopefully starts to get tthe man in line, though of course, he knows that's always a futile goal. He'll stick to hitting him with sticks in his brain, but he can't use that forever, and tries to get a grip on himself. Even in flourescent lighting, and the gnawing migraine that seems to skirt past his vision, he keeps his cool. There are worse things in the world that treating a patient like him.

"Alright," he starts, holding the syringe and approaching. "The rabies shot will only take a moment—it'll be over quick, so please relax. I hope you're not afraid of needles."

"with the shit you do i think you qualify as a private individual on the clock, too. might as well just pull it out now." but of course max doesn't keep talking because he thinks dante will listen to him, or even that—god forbid—they become friendly. no, he talks specifically to watch that stick fuck him deeper. metaphorically, of course. "wow. a band-aid. let me guess, that's my first eight hundred bucks down the drain?" the things that they charge you for in hospitals... it's absolutely ridiculous. downright criminal, in places. at least the vending machines skew cheaper.

[saltedearths]

"After. Because that means after my shift, I'm a private individual not tasked with the care of anyone." He grabs a cotton swab and some antiseptic, rolling his eyes as he sees unbroken skin and the lack of a Band-aid. God. This town'll be the death of him. "Stay still." Dante's hands move quick, and in a blink, the Band-aid's on, and he starts to move to the vaccines, trying not to let Max get to him. Mostly. Dante doesn't have the patience of a saint, nor the imagination as he tries to beat Max with said stick in his head.

Moving to the post-exposure shot, Dante sighs and shakes his head. "Alright, let me get the rabies shots—give me a moment while I get the syringe." He turns his back to him, and starts to eye the vials that he needs, double checking as he does so.

"and when do you take the stick out of your ass? before or after i get my rigamorale?" he asks, tone innocent but obviously biting. still, he follows instruction. sticks his finger right out for dante to see, bite mark still present and everything. the bat's teeth had barely broken the skin, but according to webmd simply hoping for the best was inadvisable. he has so much to live for; death by rabies really would have been a shame. "of course i have insurance. and it better cover this."

[saltedearths]

So Maddox is a button he can push—good to note. Dante doesn't comment on it, as he hides his smirk beneath a swig of the admittedly okay beer. It's growing on him, a little like fungus, a little like this conversation. "Wrong branch there. I deal with people dropping dead and intense trauma. But you need good skin grafts and as far as I know, be in counseling before and after." he says, trying to remember the steps as his colleague had told him. "Looking at tongues is a piss poor way to inspect 'em anyway. Why? Did drinking piss ruin it or something?"

in a betrayal of the highest order—his own body!—his eye twitches instead of holding to his perfectly collected performance. dante knows that nobody calls him that. why does he have to insist on it? for that reason, he knows. it's annoying to be given a taste of his own medicine. "workable doesn't give me high hopes, but anything to have working tongue, i guess. err... workable. what's a consultation like that look like? you ever inspected someone's tongue?" offering a shrug, maddox sidesteps the idea of shame. "i'll try anything once. wasn't for me."

[saltedearths]

There's so much wrong with the sentence that Dante doesn't even start to acknowledge it, and simply starts to usher him into a new examination room, writing down what Max demands of him. Never asks, of course, Max asking isn't exactly amazing at asking, but he demands things. Time, patience, shots that he should have gotten before today. So he starts and talks to a nearby nurse, in a mildly apologetic voice, to get him a couple of things, and sits Max down on an examination table.

"Let me see the infection site, Mr. Morrison." He wonders if he got the idea to at least clean the wound and put a damn Band-aid on it. "I'll get to that right before we do the whole post-exposure rigamarole and your flu shot," he says, explaining it as if Max had never stepped foot inside a hospital. And for all he knows, he might not have. "You got insurance?"

"i didn't say you shouldn't," he counters, rolling his eyes. "i just said it was a little dramatic when i'm sure you could just get a security guard to step on it." a paper towel for the floor and a sample for the lab to make sure it wasn't rabid. then, trash can. done and done. but what does he know? maybe dante has a soft spot for pests... but it certainly doesn't feel like it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm up to date on my shots. still doesn't include rabies, otherwise I wouldn't be here, would I?" In this office, at this time... yeah, probably. but if there's one thing that antioch has known about max morrison it's that he'll get into trouble as quickly as the weather changes. sometimes quicker. "but hey, while im here... what the hell. give me my flu shot. then i'll really be up to date."

[saltedearths]

He doesn't know what's worse, the fact that Max brought a wild animal into a hospital, or the fact that he said the word gerbiling and Dante understood what that meant. It's hard to choose, of course, and while he ushers Max somewhere where he can do the least amount of damage, Dante tries to move the conversation forward. To something worthwhile. Productive. God knows that it's a tall order for Max, but he can at least try. It's all he can do in the end. That and try to suppress any headaches that come from this interaction.

"And you didn't want to, say, call Animal Control? Got it." He speaks in a tone of voice completely neutral but what some other doctors would say is a voice Dante uses in the presence of absolute morons. "I assume you got your shots as a child, just—before we get into treating you for possible rabies exposure, Mr. Morrison," he asks, filling up a couple of forms and eyeing an intern rushing to his office. "I'd hate for the bat to be the one to get you."

"i might have been exposed to rabies. i don't intend on actually getting it." that's what prompt vaccinations are for. of course, he could have avoided the whole thing by not messing with wildlife in the first place, but those are just details. insignificant ones, at that. "there's a difference. you should know that, in your line of work." and of course he does, but even if max is in the clear... having a wild animal in his office is far from ideal. he can recognize that fact, himself—he just doesn't give a shit. he laughs, but not kindly. "where do you think? i wasn't gerbiling, doc. it was in my garage. i tried to move it and it bit me." a simple story with a simple answer, but of course max has to go and relay that information as irritatingly as possible. it was a natural talent!

[saltedearths]

"You said you might have rabies. That's already cause." He can feel the ache in his temples, a ghost of pain trying to reassert itself from one interaction with Max. In a span of minutes, he can already feel his migraine try to ripcord his interaction with him, but no—he took an oath. An oath he barely keeps to, since his time at the government, but an oath nonetheless. Even if the bat gives him pause. And he did just put it on his nice, clean desk which he will have to disinfect later.

There's a moment where the oath wavers, as Dante fantasizes about smacking Max upside the head, or at least shutting him up with a gag, but he persists. Be couth. If only he could take his own advice. The only give being the twitch of pain in his eye as he tries to count again. He walks him through the hospital, looking at the man with barely disguised exhaustion. "How in the hell did you get a bat to bite you? Where did you even get a bat in the first place?"

"animal control?" max interjects without the slightest hesitation. thought appears, thought is spoken. no respect given to the fact that dante is, in fact, trying to do his job. "you're so dramatic. we don't even know if this thing's rabid." plopping the little animal down in front of him, he gestures as if to prove his point. it's not foaming at the mouth or straining to bite everything in reach, but it is... very possibly docile enough to be afflicted by rabies in a different way. "there, happy? it's somewhere." hopping up, max wipes his hands of the animal handling part of this affair and prepares to follow dante to the exam room. "i thought i told you to be couth," he says, rolling his eyes. after a moment's pause; "fine, let's go. i just want to get this over with."

[saltedearths]

There's a couple of things that sends a pang of pain through Dante's skull—the fact that Max still talks, the fact he might have rabies and the fact that he brought the possibly rabid animal down to a goddamn hospital. His eyes do not widen, no alarm's in place, but he matter-of-factly dials an operator within the hospital, the weariness in his voice growing more evident as he stares at the bat in Max's hands. "Excuse me, can you get animal control in here," he asks, deadpan in his delivery. "Just because there's a rabid animal in my office. Oh, no rush. Thank you."

Dante counts to three, trying to uphold do no harm and not clock Max in the face for this breach in hospital decorum and simply grits his teeth instead. "Put the bat somewhere. And we'll—I'll grab you a spare examination room and we'll stick something in your ass to help, how about that?" A boot, preferably. Get him all the way to the next state.

"no, i have a night job. you have the day job, remember? or has post-nut clarity not hit for you yet?" laser vision may be dante's superpower, but maddox's is raw persistence—even if looks could kill, he would find a way to weasel around it. "oh, well, now that you mention it..." he continues, fishing in his coat's inner pocket for the problem, which when snagged is revealed to be a little... bat? "this motherfucker bit me. so, what i need you to do is do your job and figure out if he's got rabies or if he's just stupid. and if he is rabid, i'll pull down my pants and you can stick me with your butt needle—for a rabies shot," he adds before dante could interject, innocent or otherwise. "be couth, doctor."

[saltedearths]

The tranquil start to the day gives way to the unbearable loudness of Maddox—a sea of noise staining his otherwise good time. Granted, not answering the door for lunch isn't exactly doctorly, but since being dragged onto a murder investigation, decorum hasn't been his strong suit as of late. "Don't you have a fucking day job, shit-for-brains?" Dante asks, shooting a look that could melt through titanium, "Why'd you come over to the hospital and bother me for?"

starter for @saltedearths ( for dante )

"i've been waiting for forty-five minutes, doc. did you jerk off in the back or something?"