julienned | (no subject)

(no subject)

[this is for all of your "yelling at Julian Keller for getting stabbed with a machete by a twelve year old girl" threads]

[aka he is in Bruce's hobo shack with like medical equipment and stuff hanging off him and really wants to be elsewhere. And that's before anyone else comes and yells at him!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He can keep an eye on you somewhere more comfortable than this. Where would you prefer to be?

I don't care. There isn't a place here that isn't bad.

Would you prefer to be back in your cabin or somewhere less... active?

Who'd have me? Face it, Prof, we aren't people of the month.

We would get you set up somewhere. I can look into other spaces. At the very least, Leto and I do have extra room, although I suspect that you'd prefer to remain even here over that. But you don't have to be here.

I don't know who that is.

[shakes his head]

No. If I'm not here, I go back to my cabin. Someone has to keep them ... from being shut-ins.

*with just that slight hint of split-focus that an observant person experienced with telepaths might notice as Charles having a conversation with someone else in his head*

What all in here is yours, or will you be needing?

I don't have anything here. Why?

So we don't leave anything behind. Which pain medication did he give you? I'm guessing there was probably an anti-biotic, too, and we'll want some bandages as well.

What? I don't - I don't remember. I wasn't really ... paying attention.

*picking up and putting down various bottles, perusing the labels*

Hmm... no... probably not... no... oh, this looks- yes.

*a Japanese guy in a suit walks in*

Good evening, Dr. Xavier.

Who are you?

*writing a note to leave on Dr. Banner's desk/workbench/whatever he has*

Good evening, Tatsumi-san. Julian, he'll just be giving us some assistance with transportation, since walking across camp with your injury would be decidedly imprudent.

Are you ready?

Where are we going?

[and then he winces and guards around his injury like a winner.]

*calmly -- neither gentle nor grim, but certainly not flippant*

You said that if you were not here, you would be going back to your cabin. If that's where you need to be, then we can help you to get there.

[if Charles is listening there's a lot of panicked thinking right now but basically it boils down to a conflict between "duty to my cabinmates to make sure they're all okay" and "jfc i am so tired and need a break and i hurt"]

I don't -- just give me a minute.

Of course. And there's no reason to have to lock in a decision forevermore. We can stop by the cabin so that you can check on everyone, and then go elsewhere. The most important thing is that you have a place where you can rest and recover, and that is not...

*...side-eyeing the shack yet again*

...here.

[he's having to process all of this. this is a lot of words, okay.]

-- but where?

For the first few days, you're stuck with either me or someone else of your choosing, because it would be foolish for you to be on your own with an injury like that. It can be either my cabin or some other empty-ish one that we can get set up, but we're just not going to leave you alone so soon after you've just have a machete stuck through you.

You still haven't ... said ... who this other guy is.

*a tiny sigh of professional long-sufferingness*

I'm the Camp business adviser, and you have no idea what the health insurance premiums on all of you campers are like at this point.

What he means is that he's very happy to help.

No, I meant everyone.

Look, I - I'll stay here.