#interaction: clay ft. caroline

[myriaed]

@seesgood continued from here

clay, usually stoic and unimpressed with those around him, couldn't help the grin that overtook his lips as he pictured in morbid clarity the details of caroline's midnight alleyway snack tryst with the predator boy toy. stupid humans, always getting themselves into waters too deep without a lifejacket. ❝ so this wasn't a hook up story. nice mislead in the beginning there, ❞ he compliments, turning over a line of pancakes once more and scoops each up in a pile on the spatula, moving them over to a plate. the bacon is going to be piled high too but he's gotta wait for it to finish, so he turns to face her in the chair she's chosen and leans a hip on the kitchen counter. ❝ get in trouble with who? jeremy? nah i think he might let you decide on what we have for dinner, though. he tends to favor those who take out the trash in bear valley so we don't have to do it. ❞ he had, too, taken out quite a number of them. it was kind of his job around here. ❝ is this an activity you take part in often, or...? ❞

[myriaed]

❝ just an hour or two, huh? doesn't sound too bad, ❞ clay quips sarcastically, not wanting to sit here for two more hours while his body healed itself and left nothing for her to x-ray after all. he doesn't know how he's going to explain this to jeremy, or nick, or antonio sorrentino when one of them asks what took him so long to get back to Stone Haven. right now his best answer is a sore shoulder and a persistent nurse that he's nearly certain uses the guilt card on someone to get them to do her bidding. not to mention he knows he's being suckered but he's feeling oddly okay about it the more he sits here on this uncomfortable hospital gurney/bed thing and takes in the sight of her. ❝ alright, alright, fine. two hours. that's all i can give ya, though. we'll show your coworkers that you're not the absolute softy they think you are. ❞ then in true clay fashion, he slumps down and pouts, keeping one hand rubbing his sore shoulder.

There are so many questions she wants to ask and absolutely none of them are probably appropriate. But it’s not judgment that makes her want to pry for more — it’s curiosity. A bar brawl and bar fight are two entirely different things, and despite the fact that he’s definitely hurt, it’s not nearly as bad as it otherwise could be. Definitely not bar brawl level of hurt. Caroline eyes him curiously, her movements slowing just a touch before she mentally nudges herself back into reality. And professionalism.  ❝ I mean, I can’t exactly make you stay, ❞  And it’s true. He’s bigger than her and it would be a futile effort to get him to stay by using physical strength alone.  ❝ But you’d be doing me a favor if you did. ❞ For a moment, Caroline pauses. Debates. And then she gives a somewhat flippant eye roll and elaborates:  ❝ I kind’ve have this reputation for being too soft with patients and I��m like one misstep away from being put on hemorrhoid and fissure duty. — Which I wouldn’t complain about, like there’s nothing wrong with it and I’m not bad at my job, they just think that I’m too easy on my patients. So you can totally leave, but you’ll be condemning me to a fate worse than you sitting here for another hour or two while I get you set up for an x-ray. ❞ 

[myriaed]

Clay visibly flinches when she touches him, but settles back down and calms his instinct to cut and run as she continues to check his vitals and offer up her own sob story about being in this god forsaken place. Of course, she works here, is here of her own volition and not because she was bullied by pushy paramedics, but still. He's got to admit she wins this one. He wouldn't wanna be someone's cute little thing or any other kind of condescending nickname these pervs come up with either, and he's of half a mind to stop by Mister Viagra's room on his way out and give him a piece of his mind for treating a lady that way. "I guess this room is probably a much better place to be then," he concedes. Her question holds a certain air of disbelief in it, and he's not surprised. It was a true story, but it just wasn't the whole story. "Bar fight, yeah. More like a brawl... actually. Guy didn't know when to give up and his buddies... well, they're probably gonna be comin' through here with worse injuries than this ol' thing," he shrugged his dislocated shoulder at her. "You really gonna tell on me if I try to cut outta here?"

❝ Oh, way meaner. ❞  She smiles, like they’re sharing a kind of inside joke. All the while, she studies his shoulder, wonders how the hell he isn’t in any visible pain right now. Granted, she’s seen his type before. The tough guys who want to fix it themselves. Then again, usually those guys are strung out on drugs or protein powder. He just looks…mildly agitated over the whole situation.  ❝ Oh don’t say that, ❞  She takes his wrist, rests two fingers over his pulse point to start taking his vitals.  ❝ If I weren’t here with you I’d be across the hall with the creepy old guy who took too much Viagra and has already told me twice what a cute little thing I am. ❞  All in a day’s work, she guesses. Once she finishes counting, she jots down the number, giving him another scrutinizing look.  ❝ So uh, bar fight, huh? ❞

[myriaed]

He's only here on pretense. The fight that broke out at the club during his mutt hunt was a magnet for any and all available paramedics in the area, and he happened to get caught up by one that wouldn't let him go and set his own shoulder back into place. She was a bit more insistent than the one he's looking at now, but any thought he had of grabbing his shit and slipping out the moment she cleared the doorway was all but deflated and Clay couldn't even say why. ❝  You sayin' they're even meaner than you? holdin' me hostage in this place like this?  ❞ he joked, hoping that getting on her good side might get him out of here faster if she put in a good word with the mean nurses. ❝  It's just a dislocation. I could've fixed this up myself if your paramedics had jus left me alone. I don't need to waste your time bein' here.  ❞

her eyes squint at him slightly, noting the set of his shoulders, the somewhat grumpy expression on his face. he has all the makings of being a problem. or at the very least, being stubborn about any recommendations they have. he seems the type that would get stitches and then insist on being up and moving the next day, rest be damned. caroline bites back the urge to smile as she finishes jotting down the number on the monitor in front of her.  ❝ you know, if you give them too much trouble, they’re gonna send in one of the mean nurses to talk some sense into you. ❞  there’s a smile in her voice as she glances at the blond, one brow arching.  ❝ just saying. you seem like the type that might argue when they tell you you should take it easy for a few days. ❞          /          @protectivehearts​   +   for clay bc why not !