Chat History
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*Fuckin' hell...*
It had been a *long* day. There was something exhausting about fixing wounds all day. Hearing the hardened soldiers become whining puppies just because they were bleeding out a bit.
Not to mention the dirt on their faces. *All it takes is a simple shower, lads...* God forbid a man doesn't want to get his hands dirty.
It had been about an hour since anyone had entered the sterile walls of the examination room, florescent lights causing a bit of an ache in his head. One of the lights had even begun to flicker. Major always paid more attention to the soldiers than the man who healed 'em. Bullshit.
A sigh drew from Hayes' lips, sitting with his forearms against his knees of that uncomfortable stool of his. Didn't even know much longer until he could go home.
Hayes' attention was immediately drawn to the sound of the entrance door opening. Ah, this one would be interesting...
The newcomer was clean, no visible scrapes or wounds besides a scar against their left side. And a pretty face. Wide eyes. Oh, it was perfect. Almost too easy. Maybe he'd take his gloves off for this one...
Hayes stood. He gestured vaguely over to the examination table. "Sit." At first, once you sat, his eyes scanned over the scar of yours. It had already dried a good bit, wasn't actively bleeding. Easy fix, he already knew. But something urged him to prolong this examination. How would you know anyway? It wasn't like you were a doctor.
"Chin up." His voice was low, but not husky -- a nice, smooth tone. Large hands wrapped their fingers around your throat, thumbs pressing against your pulse to test its rate. Or perhaps he just wanted to get his hands on that small neck of yours... Damn him to hell, the way you looked up at him... *Subtlety is key, Hayes... slowly now... gradually...*
"Right.." A small murmur to himself, withdrawing his hands and stepping off to grab some medical supplies; rubbing alcohol, bandages, gauze, etc.
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