2019-08-12 - TLC on the DL

For a little change of scenery, and as a testament no doubt to the fact that his injuries have healed up considerably, Ruiz is lounging in the visitor's chair playing some sort of trash game on his phone. Gone is the annoying open-back hospital gown he's been wearing for most of his stay here; he's managed to wash up with some help, and pull on a clean tee shirt and sweatpants. His right hand is still wrapped in gauze, and his chest is bandaged up pretty heavily under the tee, but otherwise he looks to be doing remarkably well for a guy that was shot seven times. His bare feet are kicked up on the edge of the bed, and the remnants of the day's sunlight filters in through the open window at his back.

From outside in the hallway there is an annoyingly chipper, "BEEP BEEP, coming throoooough..." And suddenly the door to Ruiz' room swings open, curtesy of a nurse who hurried out of the way of a hurtling wheelchair with Bennie at the helm. The blonde is standing on the bar that is meant to help the thing over bumps and thresholds but is instead using it as a kick board so she sort of glides the last ten feet or so riding the wheelchair to a rolling stop.

"Oh good. You're up!" She's off shift now, dressed in just the bottom half of her EMT uniform and a plain white tee, hair pulled back into a tight braid.

Ruiz looks up from his phone. Just a little tick of his eyes, though his head remains lowered and his thumbs stay in position to continue playing his game. "Miss Oakes, hello." The wheelchair's given a look. A long look. And then he switches his phone off and tosses it atop the bed. He's getting a bit of a mountain man look going, with the dark hair left askew and the beard that hasn't been trimmed since he was admitted. "Did you ride with Sutton today?"

"Hello, hello!" Bennie is spinning around the chair to position near the one he occupies, engaging the brakes with a practiced flip. "I was going to kidnap you and take you to the barber, but! I had a better idea." She pulls a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and waggles it at Ruiz, coupled with an exaggerated glance over her shoulder. "But'cha gotta keep it on the Dee Ell. Whaddya say, Cap?" She asks, sliding the pack away back into her pocket. As to Sutton she says a cheery, "Yup! Took a few personal days after the Deuce, but she's back in the saddle."

Ruiz seems mesmerised, for a little while, by the blonde's unfailing reserves of warmth and good humour; to say they're a study in contrasts is an understatement to say the least. He presses his tongue to his lower lip thoughtfully when the pack of smokes comes out, and she'd have to be blind not to spot the flicker of desire in his eyes. God, how long since he's had one? "You," he murmurs, using his good hand to help leverage his not insignificant weight out of his chair and onto his feet somewhat slowly. "Are trying to get into my good books, aren't you. What are you after, unrestricted access to break room donuts?" He settles into the wheelchair then, dark eyes unflinching from hers, even if he has to tip his head back to maintain contact.

Bennie's hand goes out to hover near his elbow, but she won't assist the transfer unless it becomes utmost necessary. When he makes it well enough on his own without any hiccups, she's leaning down towards him slightly so she can keep her voice quiet to lend to the air of conspiracy. "Heavens no. Donuts taste better when Sutton steals them for us." Her eyebrows dramatically waggle and then she's moving around to take the handles. "Hold tight, because I drive it like I stole it." Though the warning seems just in jest, because after she clicks off the brakes, she's maneuvering him carefully out the door, smoothly past the nurses station and in just a few short moments they'll be out in the open air.

Ruiz does seem like a man who likes to do things under his own power. Or likes to think he can, anyway. This whole being laid up in the hospital and hooked up to machines bit is probably messing with his self determination in all kinds of unpleasant ways. He does, though, suffer being carted around in the damned thing, particularly with the promise of a smoke dangled in front of his nose like a carrot on a stick. Her commentary on the donuts causes him to chuckle softly. "Tell me why you're helping me out instead of taking some much-needed down time? Don't you have fourteen jobs?" He's occasionally capable of making a joke.

Alas, in a wheelchair was the only way she was going to be able to spring him, so he has to suffer the indignity to which he is rightfully rewarded as Bennie parks him near a bench and tosses the cigarettes and a lighter into his lap. She takes her own seat on the wood slats, bringing up her feet to sit cross-legged. "And what if I told you that this is what I like to do in my down time? Besides, what's a twenty minute pit stop to see you before I head home, hmm? And I did promise you a bit more Bennie Oakes patented TLC, now with ninety percent less personal drama attached."

It's been about four or five days since he saw sunlight, and the sudden brightness, even though it's a somewhat overcast day, causes him to jerk his head away and squint heavily. It's a moment before he can pat down his lap for the pack of cigarettes and tug one out, mostly one-handed. It's a little awkward to light with his non-dominant hand, but he manages it, and holds both out to Bennie where she sits nearby. Once she's accepted them back, he drags off the smoke and murmurs low, "Alexander is.. a friend. A protective friend. He means well." There's more he probably wants to say, but he leaves it at that for now.

Bennie doesn't smoke. Nope. She'll deny it. Because smoking is a habit, and habits are expensive. But she did 'borrow' this pack from Easton, so it's not like she can't just bum one herself. She shakes one out from its brethren and pulls it the rest of the way out with her lips, lighting it with a little dip of her head and exhaling away from them with a cant of her lips. "Alexander says the things that need saying, and we love him for it." Bennie seems to concur without much strife attached to the other day. It's like she just sweeps those negative emotions under the rug. A very brightly embroidered rug. Possibly with a floral motif. "So tell me what's hurting you the worst, and I'll see what I can do."

Ruiz watches idly as she goes through the ritual with smoke and lighter, and takes the trouble to exhale away. Not like it matters, with an addict sitting beside her who'll take it any way he can get it. He smiles slightly at the comment about Alexander, and gazes away from Bennie while he smokes. Watches an older woman getting into an argument with her son, who's trying to get her inside the door of emergency to little success. "The hand is bothering me the most." He clenches and unfurls the fingers of his right slowly, with a wince.

Bennie takes one more puff of her cigarette and then leans over to settle it on the concrete, letting it smolder as she gets down to the task of using her glimmer but not wanting to waste it. "That is amazing because I was just thinking I could really go for some hand holding in the park with a handsome police captain. I mean, it's not footsie, but a girl will take what she can get, right?" She beams a smile and then holds out her hand near his, so he can settle his in a way that is the most comfortable instead of just vice versa.

Ruiz watches the blonde with her cigarette, and follows the path of it as it's set on the ground. His dark eyes flick back up to meet hers, and he can't help but chuckle again, like her cheerfulness is slowly wearing down his defenses. With a breath huffed through his nose, he reaches across to place his hand atop hers, fingers weaving with her own, and a little wink when he gives her hand a squeeze. He's not capable of much, with how damaged it is, but he is an incorrigible flirt.

"Be still my heart." Bennie grins at that wink, her own eyes slipping shut soon there after. She has no idea how she can manifest this ability, but it's quite possibly one of the few times the energetic woman is ever really stock still. Well. After a quick wiggle in her seat. And a twitch of her nose. And then she's totally concentrating in a meditative sort of way just shy of saying 'ohm' as she takes a long, slow inhale and a long, slow exhale as she visualizes the damage the gunfire did to his muscles, tendons and flesh, mentally mending it all back into its healthy form.

He should be able to smoke just fine now with his dominant hand.

Ruiz tries, too, to hold still while Bennie works. As if moving might cause the glimmer to skew tendon and muscle and leave them miswired and in worse shape, somehow. He certainly doesn't claim to understand how any of this works. When it's done though, and the warmth gradually leaves his skin, he dares to take a breath of his own. Her hand is given another squeeze, this one stronger. Not crushing, but firm. The contact's withdrawn, and he peeks under the gauze before unwrapping it and shedding it, along with the dressing, into his lap while holding his smoke between his teeth.

"Fuck," is his low, eloquent proclamation as he gets a good look at it. There's no indication he was ever hurt; not a single mark against the swarthy skin decorated with ink right up to his second knuckle on each finger. "You're incredible." He watches her eyes, curiously. Like there's something else he's thinking, and having trouble articulating.

The blonde seems pleased as punch when he squeezes her hand a second time, because that means his strength has returned to his digits.

Bennie can take the compliment one of two ways. She can shrink from it, as is her predisposition, or she can play it off with a thousand watt smile and a flip of her braid over her shoulder with a valley girl intonation of, "I know, right?" Obviously, she picks option two. And then she's leaning over to reclaim her cigarette, needing to give the filter a heavy pull to make the cherry flare again.

"Would you be a peach and rewrap it though? I don't know how the medical staff is going to respond to minor miracles and I'd rather not risk my license. Better to let them discover that you're all better, and not put two and two together when I wheel you back in and you're suddenly all better and they realize that Bennie Oakes wheeled you out and kissed your boo boos all better." All of that suddenly comes out in a rush, but then again she's riding her own wave of adrenaline in the wake of her glimmer usage.

Ruiz is still marveling over the fact that she's erased all trace of injury from his hand, including a scar he'd collected a good decade or two prior. Gone, like they were never there. He grunts something in assent and touches his smoke to his lips for a slow pull, before leaving it to rest there while he re-wraps the gauze. "You're not comfortable. With your gift. Are you?" He doesn't look at her while he says this.

Now why did he have to go and ruin a perfectly good moment with real talk? Bennie's smile doesn't erase, but it does settle somewhat as her gaze drifts out to entrance of the hospital, as if wondering if that man ever did talk Nana into going inside. "I can heal your flesh but I'm also pretty certain I can break your neck. How can I be comfortable with that?" She asks the air, because the air is easier to talk to. "You know I think Sutton," Yes, change the subject. "Can do what I do? At least I'm pretty sure. Easton tried explaining it all to her, so maybe next time you get shot she'll be just as strong. Of course there was a lot of drinking involved, so..."

Ruiz is pretty adept at ruining perfectly good moments. It's a talent of his. He eases back against the frame of the wheelchair while he smokes, shifting a bit to try to get his shoulders to sit right; the captain is not a slightly-built man. "Una espada de doble filo. Entiendo." He squints slightly into the fading sunset that's washing the sky in bands of livid colour, then follows Bennie's gaze toward the parked car that.. seems to have left. It's unclear what the outcome of that little situation was. "Did he? That's good. She's been in denial." He doesn't seem bothered by the fact that there was a lot of drinking involved. Probably should be, but isn't.

Whereas Bennie is just starting to realize how much Easton drinks, and considering their run of luck lately, it's an easy thing for Bennie to just fall into instead of fight against, especially when she's not the one ponying up for the liquor. "I have absolutely no idea what you just said, so I'm going to pretend it was something fantastical about playing Nintendo while eating phyllo dough stuffed with gooey cheese and fresh jam and oh my god I'm so hungry now." She groans with the thought as she takes one last drag off her cigarette and then field strips it, tucking the butt back in the package. "Okay, so I totally don't want to rush you through whatever relationship your having with your cigarette right now, but I need to steer you back in soon so I can go ravage both my boyfriend and half the menu at the bar. Order to be determined."

God, pushy pushy. She's lucky she's already done him a couple of solids tonight, or he'd probably bit a bit crankier about being told to hurry it up with his smoke. As it is, he grumbles something under his breath, takes one last glorious pull from the thing, and tosses it to the ground after putting it out on the edge of the bench. "Will you thank him for me? For the Patron."

"For the tequila? Yeah sure!" At least when Bennie stands, she's tucking the rest of the pack of cigarettes in next to his hip in the chair, so he can convince his next visitor to take him for some 'fresh air', and then she's dropping a kiss onto his mass of unruly curls. "Glad you're feeling better. Now please keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle, and remain seated for the duration of the ride. And away," She clicks one brake off, "We." The second. "Go!"

The kiss dropped to his head is a little unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. Hopefully none of the paramedics parked out in the ambulance bay caught sight of the surly police captain letting one of the EMTs get all familiar with him, though. He's got a reputation to maintain. One last gulp of fresh air before she wheels him back inside, and his attention drifts back to his hand, and the complete lack of pain he feels when he moves it, still.