deathsdoctor | 014 [Action/possibly voice]

[ Not too long before the draftees are returned to Luceti, all snug and cosily tucked in their beds (or in random and embarrassing drop-off points in the enclosure – whatever works), a figure cloaked and hooded in black staggers into the village. Weaving like he’s dead drunk – reality? Dead tired – he occasionally trips and catches himself…

… and then…

… and then just faceplants in a snow drift when it becomes one trip too many. He’s just going to just stay there for a moment. He feels like shit.]

Ughhhhh.

[Yeah. That’s enough of that. Picking himself up and dusting himself off, the figure reveals himself to be Trafalgar Law, freshly returned from one month full of missions.

Armed to the teeth. Worn to the bone and bleary eyed. And apparently lei’d.

… no, you aren’t imagining things - there is a tacky plastic floral garland hanging around his neck. Like you’d get on some cheap tropical vacation.

Don’t you dare suggest he’s been on one, folks.

And when he looks around, finally registering the Christmas lights and the general emptiness of the village, he mutters…]

Oi… what I’d miss?

[Go ahead. Spoil his ~~triumphant~~ tired return and tell him about all the draftees about to drop in. The draftees that possibly and quite probably need medical attention.

It isn’t like he desperately wants to find a bed and get some sleep. And it isn’t like he desperately needs that sleep either.

Not at all.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No need for apologies. I've been gone a long time.

[And because she's staff and he needs to check.]

You otherwise alright?

Perfectly fine. I have people watching out for me. Unfortunately, I've had to drop most of my shifts at the clinic. I'll double up once my vision is back, it's only fair.

That's good to hear. [Slight frown.] Just don't overload yourself, alright?

Uh... could I ask you a favor? Could you let me know when the draftees start trickling in? Leave me a message and start rounding up the other healers that are still left for the post-draft flood?

[He winces and his pride burns. But it is greater weakness not to speak than to admit this.]

Right now it's too dangerous for me to work on anyone. I'm too tired and I'm not thinking clearly. [He'll kill someone accidentally at this point in other words. That is unacceptable.] I need to catch a few hours of sleep before I start in on the injuries. Could you let the others know I'll be with them as soon as I can?

I won't.

Of course. I'll get the word out as soon as I know. I can see what other healers we might have around too.

[The exhaustion in his tone creeps in, seeping through and permeating every word like cold mist through a thin coat to chill the wearer to the bone.]

Thank you. I appreciate it a lot.

No problem.

Is there someone to help you home or somewhere?

Mister Marco is flying me home. [Quiet. Poor guy's being the One Piece air taxi tonight.] He'll make sure I get back safely.

Good to hear.

Get some rest, sir. I'll keep things organized.

I will.

Goodnight and thank you, yet again.

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