2020-08-03 - Starting to Hate Hospitals

It was touch and go for a bit when Vic was brought in. She has Swiss cheese where her right lung was, and they basically had to reconstruct her lower ribs with duct tape and baling wire. Ok maybe they used fancier medical tech than that. Either way, there was a lot of internal damage but miraculously nothing fatal. The surgeons boggled as they put her back together, but it was likely Rosencrantz using his Spirit Glimmer that kept it from being much, much worse.

Still it took her a day or so to wake up, and then they had the fun of trying to hold down a flailing combatant to extubate her. She did not react well to waking up with that tube down her throat. Now though, it’s just a cannula under her nose and hourly lung capacity checks. Everything hurts. She had to give the police a witness/victim statement. No, she didn’t see who shot the shooter. She’s conscious now, bored to tears by daytime television. Some dumb tv court show is on the tv, and the remote is in the hand of the elderly patient in the other bed. By the glare Vic is giving her over her TV viewing preferences, one of them might not make it out of here alive.

The ‘bartender ‘ is in ye olde hospital gown and her entire torso is bandaged. Clearly she has no friends to bring her real jammies. There are no cards or flowers for her either.

It's not unusual to have one of your people in the hospital. That's what homie dumps are for. Drive up, drop them off and scoot before there are any questions asked. Has he any right going in and making demands of hospital staff?

No.
But he's going to.

"Victoria Gray?" They ask if she's immediate family. There's a deep breath and he sighs a 'Yeahhhhhup." It's not exactly lying. He hates fucking lying like Clayton hates nicknames. Really it's true. It's just a different sort of family. He arrives with a bag with something square in it. Heavy, calloused knuckles on the agile boxer double-knock on the door. He slouches against the frame and murmurs, "Shit, you got all dressed up for me? You shouldn't have." He doesn't wait to be told to come in but does and for now closes the door to the hall with one fingers gently shoving it closed.

"You look about as good as I did when I ate that grenade. They got you on the good shit?" Green eyes take inventory of what's where, the machines, all the beeping. The words are careful but the concern is the mortar between the bricks.

Vic rolls her head on the pillow, putting a stop to her utterly ineffective death glare towards old Agnes in the next bed. It takes a second or two for her eyes to focus on Joey. Yeah that’s morphine. She’s on the good stuff. “Kelly?” She asks, Looking surprised to see him. Not like Felix did wellness checks in Hoquiam. She looks down at her hospital gown at his quip. “This damned thing is drafty,” she mutters.

“Everyone else make it out? Rosencrantz was there. I think he was trying to keep my insides inside.”

Joey isn't, turns out, just like Felix. He's just like Joey taking his footnotes from the Ruthless King. Maybe that's a good thing? Time will tell. "Well depending on what you're trying to accomplish. Rule 34 says there's a kink for everything. You could be ahead of the curve and not know it." He's got no idea but it's the silver lining he has to work with.

The bag is brought over and set down. In it a tanktop, her hoodie and work out pants and the stuff she keeps at the gym. It's been washed? Invasive yo. There's also a zipper hard case in there with a Nintendo Switch in it. "Grabbed some of your shit in case you wanted it." He pauses adding, "I'm not evicting you. You're not fired or anything just... ya know. Nice to have your own shit. And my switch. I played the hell out of it while I was busy un-blowing up so..." He has himself a seat and lets her absorb any of that, not that he talks particularly fast. "You losing your mind yet in here?"

Surprise. That is the expression on Vic's face at the kindness Joey shows by bringing her a change of clothes and something to keep her occupied. "Thanks boss, I really appreciate that." She's saying thank you, clearly the drugs. "Yeah, but it's more than just Grandma's TV selections over there," she grunts. Her voice is a harsh rasp, and not as loud or clear as it usually, a testament to the damage done. She looks pale and tired, no doubt not really resting in her state of paranoid alertness. "I can't smoke. For maybe MONTHS. They have some stupid nicotine patch on me." Oh man, when the happy drugs are gone, that is gonna be rough.

She frowns and picks up the Nintendo device. She doesn't look like she's much of a gamer, but it's better than endless boredom. "I don't think I was the target. I think I got between the guy and the actual target. If it was me, he'd have double tapped me in the head, but he kept going without his piece to go after the guy that was there with Rosencrantz. Seen him in TiBS a few times, 40s, dark curly hair, with greying beard. Rosencrantz tried to tackle him and was ignored, so I am pretty sure the mechanic wasn't the target either."

Clearly the drugs, because she's hallucinating kindness. He winces slightly and on the note of not smoking for forever (more than a day) he says, "I'll make a list of people you can go talk to and capitalize on that." Its a great time to build a hit list right?

He takes in the information and murmurs confused, "We have old fuckers who aren't de la Vega?"

That gets a snort of a laugh, which is immediately regretted, and causes some wheezing spasms. Vic punches the button on the pain med dispenser and groans, sinking back against the pillow. "Don't make me laugh, boss, my right lung is only useful for straining pasta at this point." She grimaces. "Yeah, Rosencrantz should know his name. The mechanic held my insides in til the paramedics got there. Maybe give him a little raise for that? Or a bonus?" Yep, drugs.

Joey contemplates this a bit and the direction is too broad but he notes, "I'll text Itzhak. And the mechanic's already getting hazard pay and don't thin I don't know the little copfucker isn't sending half back the other way. But it's his he can do as he wants." Yeah, he's not thrilled and knows. Shaking his head he murmurs, "Maybe. We'll see. Cruz is laid up. You're laid up. Strange times are afoot at the Circle K. Don't worry about it for now. I just want to make you're not stranded up in here. They give you your phone back or is it fucked?" Eyebrow arches. "I can get my new secretary to pick you up a tablet or something. Put netflix on in and shit. They're not much. How long you stuck in this place for?"

Copfucker? "He's fucking a cop?" Vic asks, blinking with that dazed, off focus manner of someone on happy juice. "Does that at least get us some inside info?" She looks distant for a moment, as she ponders, "I wonder if the big nose means other big things." Yep, filters are off people!

She looks back at Joey at the question, however, and focus returns for a moment. "Few days, they said maybe out in 4? I'm healing faster than expected. I think Rosencrantz did something about that too." Pause. "Wait, Cruz got hurt too?"

Joey frowns deeply, "yeah he's playing house with de la Vega. Why you think he's a liability. Keep an eye on him. I know he AND Cruz are holding back. Right now so long as they're doing their fucking job and not selling us down the river we can't be choosy but his alliance? It ain't with us." As for the rest the boxer shrugs, "Dunno. He's never been interested in my finding out . And no doubt. They said months but eh, we got a couple people help keep you on your feet sooner. When you get out I'll have ELlise take a peek. She's good to us on favours. She's an RN too." When she asks about Cruz there's a veiled anger as he shakes his head. "Yuuuuuup. He's still bitchy. He'll be fine."

Wut? De. La. Vega? "Javier?" Blink. Blink. "Huh. Whodathunkit?" Because the Ruiz she knew back in the day was a man ho, but she only ever saw him with the ladies. All the ladies. Like a revolving door of ladies. Seriously, Man ho. "He's not a liability. He can keep Javier on our side, if anything. The guy owes Felix, so he'll play nice so that doesn't get ugly. Right?" She nods that Cruz is still alive enough to be bitchy. "Ok, oh, my truck is still at that damned church. If someone can drive it over to my trailer at Huckleberry I'd appreciate. Keys should be in my jeans in that closet over there. My phone might be in there too."

"I can do that without Roz but it also means do. not. trust. Roz. I'm not going to not assume it's not going back and De la Vega and I have an understanding. It's...complicated. And no he doesn't owe Felix he owes me. " Ooh more new news. But also why Joey might be extra flinty about it. "I bought out his debt." The talk of her keys bring s him pause, and nods. He gets up and retrieves them taking just the car key off and putting the rest with her things. "You want your phone over there?" He pauses and sighs. "Fuuuuck. Give me twenty minutes. I'll be right back."

"Yeah, the phone would be nice. Need to text the other boss that I won't be slinging drinks for a bit." Poor Bennie, keeping a bartender is so tough there at TiBS. Vic frowns, "Hey did that Danish dude get out ok? Ravn? He's working at TiBS as a bar-back and he's new to town and all the weird shit. Has some skill with sleight of hand and pick pocketing. He was there with some girl with white hair and a wardrobe furnished by Hot Topic, that I've seen in the bar a couple times."

Joey asks curious, "Was she trying to ride his junk like the Kentucky Derby? If so that narrows it down to about three people. I'll make some calls. Dunno em." He holds up a second and mutters something about being right back.

[20 min. later...]

Joey comes back in the room and murmurs, "They didn't have any inappropriately dressed teddy bears in the gift shop but they did have..." he pulls out a cord and plug and plugs it into the guest outlet. "A charger for your damn phone cause it gonna die on you here. From boredom. This may be it's final entry for all we know."

Vic shrugs, unsure what the pair were doing. "It was in a church so I hope they weren't trying to hump like bunnies," she notes with amusement. When Joey gets back, the woman is head down poking at the switch with reflexes dulled by drugs. Mario Kart. Whee. She looks up and grins at Joey when he produces the charger. "Awesome...." someone hit that morphine button again. She's flying high. "Thanks boss."

Joey tries not to crack a faint grin, "Don't thank me. I came out here so you can heal up and get back to work. More holes in you means I gotta walk around and do shit." There's a fondness there. With a sigh he says, "When I come back tomorrow you want me to bring you anything? Smuggle a cheeseburger? Shake?" He looks around the room and considers the 'roommate' and mouths ("Make inappropriate noises and make her think life got really exciting?") He does have a sense of humor. Sometimes. He looks at the name on the patient board and calls over, "What about you, Agnes? Need some contraband food? I'll hook you up."

Agnes, who looks to be in her 90s, raises a hand towards Joey, then curls her gnarled fingers down one by one until only the middle one is left. "You hush, Joseph Kelly! Divorce Court is starting!" Wait, did she teach 3rd grade when he was 8-ish years old? It is Mrs. Abercrombie? She has to be like 100 by now! And still saucy. She turns back to her show.

Vic ponders a moment and shakes her head. "Nothing I can think of. I didn't bring much here with me, and I haven't started making things homey yet," in her tiny trailer. "Maybe my earpods? I think they're in my truck." That way at least she won't have to listen to Divorce Court, Judge Matthis, Judge Faith, You the Judge, and whatever other droning on shows about terrible people being terrible at each other in front of a fake judge on TV for 15 seconds of fame.

Joey murmurs, "Sorry Ms. A." He was an angry little mean kid and he grew into a pissy adult, and one that was not about to make his new Lieutenant listen to the show of You Judgy Judge who Judges! There's a little bit of a nod and he muses, more frank than usual, a commiseration, "Was in the hospital few months ago." His voice is kept to a low mumble. "He didn't show up. Sent someone to go watch my house for me. Times like this the silence can be a killer. Was lucky. Couple folks dropped in and that was nice ya know? Not just everyone waiting to jump at my job but few people around it matters to."

There's a pause and he falls quiet, thoughtful really. There's a lot of empathy he's got for her condition and how fucking alone being a mercenary can really be. Looking up he promises her, "You are walking out of here. Come to the gym. I'll do PT with you." There's a faint grin, "Even let you swear at me."

Vic gives Joey a small smile as Agnes goes back to watching her show. "I get it," she tells her boss quietly. "But you don't have to do things like this. I'm used to being on my own in these things. I appreciate the effort, but you're putting yourself in danger and shit coming to visit me. If I'm wrong that is, and I was the target, it was to get to you. I still think it was that other guy though."

Joey scoffs amused, "Yo, I don't have to do shit., but..." His head shakes and he murmurs, "I got my reasons, and I want to. And we are used to being on our own because we have to but... I dunno. We don't have to." His broad shoulders stretch forward before he slouches in the puffy guest seat. He shrugs, "Then that's that other guys' problem. He ain't my problem. You, Lungless McGee, is. I'm sure he's got people and if he don't?" He shrugs, "Not my fuckin problem. If that's true? Whoever tagged you then made a big mistake not minding the things that are my business. Right now? Relax. Heal. Try not to overdose on children's Tylonel or fight your nurse."