knowthyexits | (no subject)

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dominic

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The annoying thing about an injury is that it doesn't immediately heal. She's not a machine (as much as she wants to be to fight off the predators) and so when she gets hurt like she did in that junkyard, she stays hurt for a long while. She's healed for the most part, but that also means she's gone from too many cleanings to just one a day and that one is right now.

She's just come from getting the rub and is in the clinic with it, shirt hoisted up and mirror showing her the jagged marks of the stitches as she rubs two fingers over the area, trying to make sure that if she does scar, it's not going to be as noticeable as her c-section marks.

Her whole body is a story of scars, at this point. She just thought that if she'd be adding to it, it would be for a cause and not just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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The clinic, as much as it irked him, was still a location that Laurence Dominic frequented. Although his condition had improved considerably since his arrival, he still wasn't in a state where he could be completely independent of any medical attention. As such, when he appeared in the doorway to the clinic, his expression was far from happy, although he'd managed to calm it into something less frustrated than it had been just a few moments ago.

For a beat, his brow furrowed as he spotted the woman, recognizing her from some of his first moments here.

Wryly: "That must've hurt."

"It's nothing," Sarah says dismissively, instantly lowering her shirt even though she isn't actually done with the cream on the wound. She can't imagine that a day's missing of the treatment is going to have permanent damage, though. She turns and regards him, expressionless. "And you? You seem to be much better."

"After how much time I spent in here, I'd hope so," he says, face briefly twisting as he moves further into the room. (If all that time were for naught, he'd probably already have died, more of utter annoyance than physical exhaustion.)

She watches him carefully. He's different now because he's out of the clinic and moving around and she has to reassess whether or not he's a threat to her. "So, whatever it was that you were recovering from. I take it that it's not an issue here?" she asks, coolly.

(While he's no threat to her, specifically, he is definitely, on a purely physical level, more of a threat.)

"For the most part," he says, following a short pause. So long as he and Adelle haven't yet figured out exactly where they stand in relation to each other, he'll never be completely free.

"The most part?" she echoes, not sure that she likes the sound of that. "Does that mean there's a threat in play here?" She's proud and pleased about the fact that her nerves only slightly kick in and that she isn't already planning for every inevitability.

"Not to anyone but me. Not unless sharp remarks cause grievous injuries," he says, somewhat sullenly. "It's not important," he adds momentarily. Adelle isn't a topic he's willing to broach with anyone just yet.

"Ah," Sarah says with a slightly knowing smile. "One of those threats." John and Derek both had their share of barbs, but she always considered those to be mildly stinging, at best. "Well, will you be able to stand it?"

Wryly: "I think so. I've been through worse, anyway." Of course, that was also at her hand, but that's not a fact he's going to mention.

"Worse, like...?" she knows that she's prodding him, but she's limited in her information. Just once, once it would be nice to have the kind of win that secures a little safety.

"Worse, like anything that's worse than verbal barbs," he responds, only a little tetchy and, all in all, closer to his usual surly self. "And I think we've all been through at least a papercut."

"If anyone hasn't, how lucky they are," she deadpans, with barely a flash of emotion on her face at all. "Well, I think you look like a big strong man," she notes evenly. "You can take care of yourself, or do you need help?"

"I'm a big boy, now," Dominic responds, tone equally flat. "I should be alright." (Underestimation had struck him down last time, it was true, but he didn't think the principle would hold, here.)

She gives a slow nod, as if she isn't sure she needs to embroil herself in someone else's problems and because she's not sure if that would distract her from her own. "Did you want something to eat?" she asks, gesturing to the kitchen. "I was heading there next and I could do with the company."

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