2014-07-25 It will plague him for days
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
2014-07-25
Players: Ember Drake Scott
GMed by Random Acts of Spongebob
Title: It will plague him for days

The report from Hank was likely waiting when Scott woke up: Word on injuries sustained by Ember and Drake as a result of their involvement in the aftermath of a building explosion in Chelsea. Smoke inhalation for Drake, along with mostly superficial cuts and burns. Less serious smoke inhalation for Ember, but with several deep cuts as well as a broken leg and shoulder. While Drake was treated and released, Ember has been kept in the medlab for observation to make certain that her altered physiology wouldn't need extra attention.

Ember didn't stay out cold for very long. Too much adrenaline plus enforced imobility have combined to give her a minor case of the screaming boreds, which she is attempting to combat by boosting her skills at, what else? Bejeweled.

Bejeweled, you are about to be interrupted.

The door opens, and in walks Drake, hands stuffed into his pockets and looking pretty much as good as ever - save for a couple mars here and there. It's superficial, either way. Clearly Ember got the short end of the stick on that little endeavor. "Heeyy, it's my favorite differently-abled person!," he jokes, making his way directly for Ember. And out of his pocket comes a sharpie. He offers no explanation for what he's doing there, or why he's uncapping the writing tool. Though to be fair, the latter should be obvious to anyone who's been injured and happens to have friends.

Scott glides into the room with a purpose, first inspecting Ember than Drake. "Hey guys, sorry I couldn't get here sooner. HAnk told me a little about what happened, but…" He pauses, turning to study each from beneath his glasses. "You two feeling ok?"

One does not simply walk into Mordor. Or interrupt Ember in her quest to break ten million in lightning mode, which it seems she's well on her way to accomplishing, given that her hand is moving on the tablet screen at speeds almost too fast to see and her expression is one of zoned-out concentration. Doesn't stop her from seeing Drake come in, however, nor stop the raised eyebrow at the uncapping of the Sharpie. "I'll differently-abled you, Wheezy." What that means exactly is left as a mystery of the universe as she pauses the game. "You gonna use that thing, or just sniff the fumes?"
And then Scott comes in and she raises her left hand in greeting. The right hand is held against her chest as part of the immobilizing cast around her right collarbone and shoulderblade. "Good morning, Scott. I think we'll pull through."

"Wheezy? What am I, a rapper? I'll stick to Drake. Or 'the hotness'. I'll answer to 'the hotness', too," Drake continues the mirth. Of course he knows what she meant by 'wheezy'. He gobbled up some smoke earlier, after all. Fortunately, it wasn't enough to give any serious risk. That's likely due to the back-and-forth he did in the building between hauling out an unconscious person and checking up on the ladies still inside.

And that sharpie goes to work, signing her casts (both of'em!) in oversized lettering. Because John Hancock proved that size matters. …In signatures.

Scott gets a glance when he comes in, followed by a weak, if apprehensive smile. "Uh, yeah. I'm good. Scratchy throat, but nothing that won't clear up on its own." The sharpie is capped, placed in his pocket, then retrieved again promptly to be held out to Scott. The intention should, again, be obvious. "Ember here got the worst of it…"

The offer is accepted. Scott takes the marker and scribbles his name on the cast with a sigh. "Good. Now, would one of you care to tell me what, exactly, had happened?" He inquires, snapping the cap back on and tossing the sharpie back to Drake.

"No, the formerly human meat puzzle got the worst of it I'd say," is Ember's response to Drake's comment. Then she sighs as Scott naturally asks for the full story. "Drake and I went into the city yesterday evening because the day had been a bit… heavy for the both of us. Did a bit of relaxing and not long before we were about to head homeward, a building down the street exploded. We ran in, along with a friend of Drake's, to see if we could help. I put fires out and reinforced the ceiling while Drake and Felicity got a survivor out from rubble and Drake got him outside. Felicity, Drake's friend, wasn't very reponsive after we saw a dead body, or rather pieces of one. And when I tried getting her to move, I couldn't hold the ceiling at the same time." She shrugs her uninjured shoulder. "Results are as seen, but Drake and Felicity got me out in one piece."

Drake catches the sharpie and pockets it, leaving his hand right there. His eyes shift to the side and his shoulders lift in a shrug. "Yeah. It's basically like she says. Building went up, we went in to try to do what we could for the survivors." He clears his throat softly, followed by a small cough due to his aggravated windpipe.

He steals a glance back to Scott, starting to frown. "I know you said to keep low and not draw attention, but we had to do /something/. The police'n ambulances were too far away, and if we didn't go in, there'd be at least one more dead person…"

"No. You both did the right thing in trying to help people." Scott encourages with a firm clap on the shoulder. "I'm just glad nobody was hurt. There's a fine line to tread when it comes to the concept of 'acceptable risks.' When it boils down to it, you both did what you thought was right."

More training is going to be required. Scott takes a mental note as he moves towards the computer to start going over their files. "Hydration and lozenges. Your throats will be fine in a day or so."

"Drake got it worse than I did in that department. But he did more physical labor. I basically just stood there a lot." Ember is glad that Scott's visit hasn't turned into any kind of lecture and she lets herself relax back into the bed's cushins. "Doctor Hank said my breaks would take a couple of months, but in the meantime I've been wondering something."

"That's basically what the Doc said, yep," agrees Drake. He drifts over to Ember's side and gently ruffles through her hair. Or if she's not maintaining any sort of illusion, he fuzzles a rather bald crystalline dome. Either way, he concludes it with, "I'll save some smoke for you next time, Em'."

Though he's quite curious as to what Scott's writing - or adding? - to the computer, he doesn't ask. Ember's preparing to pose a question already, and it wouldn't do to overload.

"What's the question?" Scott inquires, rising to his feet and brushing off the palms of his hands. He got a single dot of sharpie. It will plague him for days.

Ember, who is not holding up any obvious illusions, tries to shy away from Drake's ruffling hand, but limited mobility makes this futile without taking risk of further injury. So she suffers what could be thought of as a soft noogie while asking her question of Scott, "Is there any such thing as mental weight training?" She uses her powers to manifest a solid light plate below her tablet, then twists the geometry so that it floats above her held within the shifting light.

Something happens shortly after the ruffling that causes Drake to lift his hand and regard the girl's smooth dome with scrutiny. But whatever it was, he pockets the thought and lowers his hand to his side again. His gaze turns to the tablet, then Scott, quiet and expectant.

"That's based on the specifics of each mutation. In general, no. We cannot make the mutation stronger. Most of us are born with a finite 'potential.' Training helps hone control, but not increase that potential. Others, though, have not tapped into everything they have. If you have more you can do, we can help you find it." Scott explains, nodding towards Drake as well. "That goes towards both of you, and every student we have."

Ember just can't help the amused expression that emerges as Scott answers in a very precise manner. "Y'know… you could just pare that down to 'it depends on the person'. You sounded like the end of an auto loan financing commercial for a minute there." She must be starting to feel alright if she's back to warming up for olympic level button-pushing. "But that's what I'm talking about. Do you know how I could find out if it's possible for me to push this? Hell, I only learned I could do things other than illusions a few months ago and I'm already better at it, so I doubt I've reached any kind of limit just yet."

Drake is mostly quiet while they have their discourse, until Scott includes him. With a faint grin, he shrugs his shoulders. "I have a hard time believing I've figured out everything I'm capable of. I started out with those beams, and now I can manipulate…" Pause. "…Spoilers. I'd rather show, not tell."

Odds are, it's the thing that he didn't get to show off in the Danger Room earlier.

Scott offers a tired smile and passes a small nod. "It depends on the person." He concedes, moving towards the door. "You both have a great deal of training ahead of you. With the nature of your powers, you will likely train together, as well. You two have more similarities than differences." He adds.

"Both of you get well soon. We can find your limits after we're healed and I get a clean bill of health from Hank. Until then, /rest./" He states, closing the computer and slipping back out the door.

Ember grins at Scott's verbal concession and holds the grin as he exits the room. Then a few beats after the door has closed behind him, she drops the expression and floats the tablet so that it's balanced on the tip of her finger, then causes it to spin like a basketball. "Rest. Yeah, that's not going to happen." She doesn't say anything about what she's fairly sure Drake encountered when rubbing her head.

Drake wears a grin of his own as Scott gives an indication of what's to come. "That'll be interesting." But then a thought occurs to him. "Wait, after we're both all better? But… she'll be down for a few /months/!" The door shutting has a finalizing effect, the weight of which causing the teen to slouch. "Dang it."

When Ember speaks, Drake turns those emerald greens back onto her. "You should at least /try/. Don't hurt yourself anymore. Especially if we're gonna be training buddies, Scruffy."

Ember sets the tablet back down on her lap without physically touching it, "Nothing scruffy about me. And I have no intention of injuring myself more than I already am. This crap hurts." She gestures to the shoulder and then the leg. "But it doesn't require movement to test out what I can do with my powers. More endurance, better resilience or permanency in my constructs and the ceiling would never have come down on me like it did."

"Alright, alright," Drake says. He reaches over to brush a knuckle against her head, despite. "But there /is/ something scruffy about you. Anyway, you do need to rest. Who knows? You doing that stuff with your powers might slow down your healing, or make it set wrong!"

Ember reaches up to intercept the knuckle before it can make contact with her head again. "I have no scruff. And I promise that I won't do anything to make myself worse." She nods towards the door as she starts tapping on her tablet again. "Now go on. My stories are about to come on, and if I don't claim the remote before Doctor Hank it won't be pretty."

Drake doesn't fight with her for the sake of whether or not she has scruff. He gives her a questioning look, but lets it go for now. "Alright, fine. Get some rest, though. And if you need anything, you know you can call for me, too." He eases back a couple steps from her, back facing the door. "Either way, I'm gonna make sure the rest of your summer doesn't suck."

And with that, he finally about-faces and darts out.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License