To do it correctly... [Lesa]

[Jack]

A gleam was in the man's eye as he leaned over his patient, fingers tapping out a gleeful tune against the table. He shifted, adjusting his glasses with his middle finger, and then shifted so he could rest his chin against the table. His hips swayed with eager impatience as he stared at the man's fluttering eyelids, waiting for him to grow completely still. He did, and L'natic's grin spread like wildfire across his lips. Immediately, the man straightened and violently prodded his patient in the gut. He didn't move, and L'natic's grin broadened.

Humming a tune far too gleeful for his plans, the man swirled around to a smaller table, snatching up a gruesome looking blade. He turned back to the man and licked his lips, eying the fellows infected arm. It was a bite--the result of getting too close to a wherry nest--that had gone untreated for too long. It was still salvageable, but from the gleaming look on L'natic's face and the twitch of his fingers over a metallic hand, it was clear the Healer had quite different thoughts in his head.

Bravesth shifted, eying L'natic thoughtfully, and plopped himself back down, neck stretched out across the stone. He was well aware that his Mine was up to no good, but he'd been waiting excitedly for a chance to try out his hand for far longer than this young man would need his arm...or so L'natic had reasoned to the dragon earlier.

[Lesa]

Perhaps - wait, there was no perhaps about it. It was just stupidity on his part to leave L'natic alone in the Infirmary. Even if it was because Ansyth ordered his rider to go get food. Faranth, Basker had brought him a, well, half-eaten meatroll two hours ago. Yes, he'd been up for twenty-four hours straight. But trying to make sure that a child stayed alive was worth it! Especially when the child was a Candidate. A very, very young (only ten Turns!) Candidate, but still a Candidate. They needed all they could get.

This was not the sight he wanted to see when he walked back in with an actually semi-full stomach and an entire carafe of klah. No. Seeing L'natic bending over a new patient and that sharding hand of his nearby was not on his want to see list.

"L'natic," C'fael called out wearily, placing the klah down with care. "Don't. Please, just... don't. His hand is perfectly fine, just clean up the bite, bandage it and wake him up. At the rate things are going, someone will lose a hand without you having to cut it off first." The last was said with a sigh, jaded gray eyes assessing the Candidate's condition. No change. Good. Meant the kid was still alive and breathing.[/size]

[Jack]

The blade was resting against the man's skin now, and with a hum L'natic began to draw it down. Before more than a trickle of blood was drawn, however, the healer tensed, glancing over his shoudler with a pout. "And here comes the end to my fun." He whined, baring his teeth slightly as he straightened, moving so that it was harder to see the deed he was still secretly convinced he was going to complete.

"For your information," He chortled, grinning even as he shoved up his glasses in a curtly violent action, "It is actually quite imperative that I chop off this man's arm. Regardless of whether or not there will be another like it." Giving a curt harrumph, he swayed himself absently and turned his attention back to the guy's arm, ignoring the steady shifts of an awakening patient.

It was so hard to keep people unconscious these days.

[Lesa]

C'fael mentally groaned. Two things, and neither of them L'natic, had just decided to make his life more interesting. One: the Candidate starting coding. Two: L'natic's 'patient' starting to wake up.

"Shaffitall, kid! I'm trying hard to save your life, and what do you do, you stop breathing on me!" The healer growled, striding rapidly over to the little one's bed, his klah forgotten as adrenaline woke him more effectively than anything. Sharding windpipe just wouldn't stay open! Basker appeared above him with a rush of between-cold, light, semiflexibile metal tubing in his claws. Where had he gotten - what, oh, oh no. Shards, shards and shells, and the firelizard knew more about healing than his 'master' did at times!

Have to get the airway clear somehow - this was probably the best way. His scalpel was already sterile, tubing as good as it was going to be, and emergency-gauze only a yank of a wheeled-cart away. Redwort, redwort, where was the redwort?! Ah, there!

"L'natic," the word was quick and sudden, not chastising, but I-need-help-NOW, "come here and hold him down, will you?" It was phrased as a request but was an order. The boy's head was tipped back, windpipe at the base of the throat exposed. Redwort splashed on the skin and the scalpel and the tubing and his hands, to assure sterility. Incision, quick through the skin, wipe away the blood, incision through the windpipe, tubing inserted, sterile gauze packed around it, sterile sticky-bandages on. There. That would have to do, for now. At least until they could figure out just why the Candidate kept stopping breathing.

"So, ideas. Why would he be coding on us like this?" C'fael asked, wiping at his bloody hands. "Not an allergy, hasn't swallowed anything the wrong way... complained of a headache, though. Do wish he had given us more to go on." The blond shook his head, cocking his head to the side as he stared at the boy. What could it be? And how in Faranth's name did they fix it?[/size]

[Jack]

A loud snort sounded from L'natic and he rolled his eyes over to C'fael, looking less than pleased with the order. Immediately, he re-translated in his mind that the other was outright begging for his assistance, and with a short huff and a roll of his eyes, he shuffled over to the Brownrider's side and pinned the boy to the ground.

He waited, quietly, as C'fael worked, and slid free the moment he could. Mumbling and grumbling, he glared at the awakening man on his table, and growled as he set to cleaning the other's wound. "You ask me like I'd be interested in helping." He barked after a moment, nimbly bandaging his patient's arm before shooing him off with a hiss, "Its your patient, now isn't it?"

A snide, vicious little grin spread into place on the Healer's expression, and he sneered, sidling back to his work table with his false hand in tow. He hummed as he put it away and pulled out a forearm, beginning to fiddle on it absently as he set his back to C'fael and ignored him. He seemed to be pleased with something, his eyes gleaming as he waited for C'fael to growl or grumble and try again to convince him to help. He was patient--he had several simple solutions...one of which was a new throat.

[Lesa]

C'fael groaned at L'natic's sarcasm, muttering out a "Thanks," more out of habit than anything else - he was still consumed with thinking about this boy. Need to fix the problem - no way he could be a rider with a hole in his throat. Would still end up standing, though, C'fael knew, if Avine had anything to say about it. C'fael merely looked at the boy, deep in thought as he washed at his hands and dunked them in redwort to sterilize.

He ignored L'natic's comments: the man was as snarky as R'sey had been in a snit - just constantly, instead of only occasionally and with C'fael able to get a laugh out of him easy. So that wasn't given even a thought. Hmm... headache. Unable to breathe... Something in his head, clearly. The blond sat down at the boy's bedside, running a hand through the Candidate's hair. No fever, but... this one would live. He wouldn't let another person die, not on his watch.

So he sat in thought, watching the rise and fall of the boy's chest. Up and down, up and down, up and down. He ignored Ansyth's attempts to talk to him - he had to figure it out. He had to... oh, this was starting to hurt his brain. Wait. Brain. No sign of bleeding outside, but.... brain bleed! That had to be it!
"Brain bleed! He's bleeding in his brain!" C'fael jumped up at the announcement and proceeded to curse a blue streak. Basker took the 'shells' 'shards' and other epithets to be suggestions of what to get: so he grabbed pretty much what he had before. Tubing. Shards, now what to do about it? Stop the bleeding... relieve the pressure! He sighed at the thought of cutting away part of the scalp and drilling and trying to hope that would help. But that was all he could do.

"L'natic," his voice was wary, weary - C'fael would much prefer W'liam to be in, but L'natic would have to do, "We're going to have to operate, open his skull to relieve the pressure. Could you please grab some sterile cloths?" C'fael asked, even as he gently tipped the boy's head back and placed fellis directly on the boy's tongue. Would have to do - only the scalp cut would hurt, the bone surprisingly wouldn't - or he hoped it wouldn't, if he was remembering correctly.[/size]

[Jack]

Brain.
Brain?
There's trouble in his brain.
Anneurism, tumor, we don't know.
Catscan told us lots of fluid sits around the brain.
And so, we must operate to drain.

Trouble-making eyes flicked to the side, blazing behind their dark-lensed glasses, and a slow grin slid onto L'natic's lips. Lazily, as though he had all the time in the world, he stretched his long limbs and fiddled with the growing forearm, connecting a few wires even as he kept his stare on C'fael. "We're going to drill a hole in a young boy's skull to drain the blood that he's bleeding in the hopes that it will relieve the pressure that is causing his headaches and causing his throat to close up." He chirruped, eyes narrowing subtly, "All when you have nothing more than a hole in his throat as evidence? Your logic is thrilling."

Snickering, more amused even than he was letting on, the young man leaned back even further in his seat, looking as though he would very much prefer to not move at all rather than be of assistance. "If I recall correctly, you're supposed to leave the insane assumptions to me, hm?" His grin grew and he set to flicking a toy about his fingers, eyes flashing dangerously, "Besiiides. Why should I let you give this boy a holy brain when you wouldn't let me give that man a shiny hand?"

Drain?
Gotta drain the brain.
Put a shunt inside his skull and tube into his stomach
where he'll pee the fluid out.