Old Town Sunny side up, extra crispy

[Algy Trevelyan]

The drive from the Lower Fens was uneventful, quite unlike the situation that'd ended up in the necessity of seeking a doctor. Algy focused on the road, and by the few words Brooke had said, she was having trouble enough, so he didn't start up a conversation. Intermittently, he'd check the backseat for Livvy's status, and she seemed stable, although still unconscious.

As Algy parked, he couldn't see if Livvy was still out of it, focusing on parking and killing the engine, before he climbed out with the keys in hand. Wouldn't do to lock them in again. He tucked them in the pocket of his bomber jacket, brushing some lingering ash off his sleeves.

“We're here, just in that building,” Algy murmured to Brooke, pointing to the front door of the place in question. He'd not been able to phone while driving, so this would be an unannounced visit. Not the most ideal start of a proper acquaintance with a doctor, but one made do in emergencies.

Moving to the backseat, Algy opened the door to check on Livvy again, gently patting her cheek where it wasn't red and burnt. “Livvy?” He queried, trying to see if she'd wake. It would be much easier if she were conscious when the doctor checked her out. He’d carry her to the door, anyway. He didn’t think it’d be wise for her to try after fainting like she had.

[Lavender Wise]

Livvy was floating vertically near the bottom of the swimming hole back in a summer in Sweet Gum, seeing how long she could hold her breath. Her lungs did not hurt and there seemed to be no effort to breathing, so holding her breath was, apparently, unnecessary. Fish darted around her at a distance, uncertain about her presence. There were sounds, laughter, conversation, but it was muted by the water, which was fine. It was relaxing down here, she felt calm, and there was no pain.

Someone dove into the water. Livvy turned her head to see if it was one of her siblings, coming to pull her to the surface because it was time for hot dogs over the fire. A man materialized through the intense bubbles generated by his arrival. She did not know him. He was fully dressed, shoes and all, and he wore a bomber jacket. She thought this was very strange and moved her arms and legs to put some distance between them.

Though he was obviously holding his breath and would run out of air soon, he held up both hands before slowly reaching out to touch the right side of her face, his expression concerned. Then Livvy was moving toward the surface, but not under her own power and at terrific speed. What was happening now? She popped like a cork from the water and landed in the cold darkness of the back seat of her car. Someone was patting the right side of her face, saying her name. She took a beat and a cautious breath to orient herself and opened her eyes. The left one responded poorly, but it worked. It took another beat to remember the man's name.

“Algy...” she whispered, followed by another cautious breath. “Ah feel.... like shit...”

[Mathus Dascălu]

The doctor's home was an endcap townhouse on a sleepy side street in Old Town. The streets were cramped for parking, vestigially paved with cobblestones, long worn down by passing cars. The lamps still looked like the gas-burning variety, but the hardware had obviously been updated, from the way they lit up the street.

Mathus' house in particular was one of many townhouses with a truly vintage flavor. The bricks were worn and chipped, sun, growing plants, and rain going about time's business. The walls within were no doubt solid wood and plaster, the floors hardwood, and the ceilings perhaps a little low for modern sensibilities. But it was all well-kept--Mathus had little time for anything but work, church, and housekeeping, but he was satisfied with it.

This evening, with the sun slowly slipping away, he'd just returned from Vespers at the nearby Melkite Catholic Church, a preparation for the Divine Liturgy. Being a werewolf of the Roman rite he didn't always go, but when the car pulled up near his home, it seemed providential that he'd had time this evening and he'd decided to walk home when he did.

It was an unfamiliar older vehicle--Mathus wasn't nosy (he thought) but he knew his neighbors' cars. Pausing, the werewolf gave the car and what was happening a measured, openly curious look, key in the door, his suit jacket folded over the other arm. He didn't yet move, waiting, and somewhat expectant as he caught snippets of muffled conversation within the car.

[Brooke Hansen]

Brooke cracked a window and let in some fresh air. It helped with the BBQ smell and burnt lavender undertones. Brooke knew that was her, but the cooked meat smell was a tossup with Livvy. She spent most of the car ride to Old Town in silence, probing her analgesic state. The numbness wasn’t so bad once she got to know it. Flexing fingers and wiggling toes in her shoes, Brooke found herself not muted, just turned down.

She kept peering backwards, twisting her head far too far around to check on the woman in the back seat of the car as Algy drove. Livvy seemed… quiet. Brooke didn’t know what quiet meant, but it was better than screaming. Maybe. She went back to watching their progress and flicking a concerned eye Algy’s way every few miles.

After discovering what to feel for, it was like her sense of feeling lurked in the alcoves of her mind and only waited for her to focus on it. She chose not to look for the throbbing agony of her blackened and blistered skin, and so it remained just beneath the surface, waiting to be noticed. She’d have to look eventually.

Algy parked Livvy’s car on a sleepy side street and Brooke exited, initially fumbling with the door latch. She snatched up Livvy’s bag as she left; she wanted to rifle through it. Ungainly, Brooke was momentarily too small for her skin and steadied herself against the car door as she got her sea legs beneath her. Waiting, her breath cooled on the air, but she didn’t feel the cold.

Livvy murmured as Algy saw to her in the back seat and Brooke sighed in her relief. The girl was still alive and probably hating every second of it. Diverting her gaze from the back seat to the house, Brooke stiffened as she saw a man waiting beneath the arch of his brick porch. He was looking right at them, seemingly caught in their moment. She met his eye.

“You the doc?” Brooke called out thickly, her tongue not working as it should in her mouth.

[Algy Trevelyan]

When Livvy came to, her eyes opening and her expression sluggish but present, Algy grinned. A shiver of relief at the sight, knowing she was well enough to be cognizant. It took her a moment, but when she breathed his name Algy was certain that she hadn't taken a blow to the head.

“Not surprised,” the dragon murmured to her, keeping his voice low and soft. “You've been through the wringer. Here, let me lift you up.”

The Welshman felt lucky that his strength went beyond that of a human, as he leaned into the cramped car and coaxed her to slowly sit up. It would be a simple thing to lift her.

As he navigated Livvy's troubles, he heard Brooke speaking, only glancing towards her and the man beyond, before refocusing on Livvy. When she was upright, Algy tucked one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her out of the car and straightening up.

[Lavender Wise]

Algy helped her sit up and work her way, slowly and carefully, to the door. Her head was swimming, skin tight on one side. Regardless, she wiggled on her butt and tried to get her feet to hook on the edge of the seat, help her forward, but her legs were not obeying her properly. Between her wriggling and the man with the lovely voice pulling her along, Livvy reached her destination.

“Goal,” she said weakly as her legs flopped over, her feet dropping to the ground like she was a new foal. She took a deep breath, wheezing a little when she let it out. Livvy looked up at Algy and said, “Asthma...” If she was seeing a doctor, that would be something they should know.

Once she had been lifted into Algy's arms, she let her head rest against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Gonna tell me... how y'all went through... the wringer, too... and can still move...?” Her voice was a whisper now.

[Mathus Dascălu]

A woman emerged from the car and the first thing that struck Mathus about her was the vile smell of cooked flesh and burnt lavender. Some of her hair was missing, but she looked perfectly cogent, enough to open her mouth and speak. Her syllables slurred together, speaking of perhaps injuries around the mouth or brain injury and yet... She moved like nothing was the matter. Mathus' eyebrows drew together, although he caught on quickly to the fact that she was not normal.

Then, the man drew another burn victim from the car, this time one who wore her injuries like they actually existed. Scorched flesh and clothing filled his sensitive nose, and the werewolf decisively turned the key in his lock and let his front door swing open on his dark house. His evening had taken a turn for the worst, but he was the right person for the job.

Sending a silent prayer heavenward, he draped his coat over the railing next to his stairs, and loosened his tie as he descended the stairs. “Yes, I am the doctor,” he answered, his Romanian accent thick, but his words clear and concise. “Let's get off the street.” When he reached Brooke, he gestured to the open door of his home, but moved past her to help Algy with the near unconscious woman.

He could hear her muttering, which was a good sign, but she could take a turn at any moment. Any questions could wait.

[Brooke Hansen]

Brooke caught the doc’s gesture towards the yawning front door and continued forward, glancing back as she did. Her neck crinkled like the flaky skin of an onion. She grimaced at the sound and not for the first time tonight worried about the price. This was going to hurt, but that was something for Future Brooke to agonize over. There were more important things for Now Brooke to deal with.

Algy had Livvy neatly in hand and with the doc joining him, there wasn’t much else for her to do but be in the way. This wasn’t one of the things. Lumbering towards the house, each step feeling oddly loose, she ascended the front stairs and crossed the small portico and into the foyer. She’d been able to overlook the rank stench of smoke and charred skin, and her own burnt musk in the car ride over. They all reeked of a firepit BBQ. The change in scenery made it obvious now. Brooke wrinkled her nose and made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. Soon, the doctor’s nice house would stink of them.

Lingering on all this was little more than a stalling tactic. Brooke wasn’t looking forward to telling the boss a civilian got injured on her watch. She had a call to make, a gala to interrupt, and a night to ruin. With a thousand-yard stare out the door, she stood to the side so the others could bring Livvy in.

[Algy Trevelyan]

Algy heard Livvy offer some of her medical history, asthma, which he knew would be relevant for any smoke inhalation. The woman herself was slack in his arms, in pain but not moving much. The dragon was worried, but knew that having her conscious and aware was a good sign.

Not willing to jostle her too much, Algy did not run for the open door, but walked with long, distance eating strides as he held her stable is his arms. She was talking, questioning the event, but Algy didn't have much of an answer to her. He hadn't gotten out unscathed, but the fire simply hadn't set him alight.

“Luck, love, that's how. I'm an old hand at this, got some leftover from the war,” the Welshman reassured, answering her to keep her distracted from the severe pain she had to be in. “I rationed it,” he added, joking lightly.

To the approaching man, he gave a firm, “I've got her, doctor.” He didn't slow as he walked, wanting to get her on a flat surface where the man could look her over properly. He added vital information for the doc as he marched on. “She's got severe burns. Maybe smoke inhalation. She says she has asthma.”

[Lavender Wise]

Livvy wasn't really aware of her surroundings. She tried to focus on them as part of an exercise in remaining conscious. There were voices other than Algy's, but she couldn't understand what was being said. The only person she could hear properly was Algy, the man with the lovely voice, as he carried her, presumably, to someone with medical training. They certainly were not at a hospital. Many more people would be attending if that were the case and she was pretty sure there would be lots of overlapping voices and too much bright light.

It was cool and dark. Everything smelled charred. She knew some of that was her and could only hope it wasn't too bad. Livvy had endured medical trauma before. The best she could do was let the experts do their job and hope that God was smiling down on her today.

“Luck,” she echoed in a whisper, managing to wonder in which war he might have been involved. Iran? Afghanistan? There was a brief hint of leather as she continued to rest her head against Algy's shoulder. His jacket, of course. It was quickly overwhelmed by the scent of burning flesh. She gagged and nearly threw up.

Think of something else, think of something else...

“Luck be a lady to-night...” Her voice sounded like kindling being crushed underfoot as she tried to sing a line from that... song in that... film about... gambling and the Sal-vation... Army...

The pain was indescribable, though she tried to find words for it as she continued to fight for consciousness.

Burning, blistering, bubbling...

Her eyes closed and she drifted off again.

[Mathus Dascălu]

Mathus approached the man, his sharp eyes picking out more and more of the damage in the twilight as he hoisted her up into his arms. It wasn't looking good, but the man seemed to be bearing her weight with little struggle, and confirmed it after a moment. Nodding, Mathus turned to lead the way back to the front door, quietly piecing together the disaster from the listed injuries. He heard the alarming whisper of the woman's blood pressure dropping, and took the stairs two at a time.

Heading inside, he hit the light switch for the hallway which led past the living room on the right and the stairs on the left and into the kitchen and dining room area that overlooked his garden. He found the other woman there, her burned stench competing with the scents of incense that filled his home. “And what about you?” the werewolf asked, quiet but focused, as he waved her ahead to the kitchen. Same story, he imagined, but she was still standing. He needed to triage.

Mathus' home was not fancy, but it was comfortable, homey and well-decorated. Family photos and gilded religious icons hung on the walls. A crucifix hung in a place of honor in the living room and with more smaller ones above the doors. He'd paid attention to colors and textures, keeping it to forest tones, with hints of blue. It was a bachelor's home, but softer, with a curious feminine touch. Despite his disinterest in decorating while she was alive, he'd learned how his wife kept house, and still honored the ways she'd want things.

Much of it was second-hand, but sturdy furniture, and he had a large dining room table with thick legs and a solid wood top. He had guests over fairly often, and opened his home to bible studies and other meetings, so it wasn't so strange for a widower who lived alone. However, it did have the secondary purpose of being a good workspace for his clandestine medical calls.

The kitchen counter curved around the wall to the left, terminating at the fridge. The whole space was anchored by a small island in the center, the surface covered with a half-empty fruit bowl of clementines, a few books, and a plate of crumbs from breakfast. The dining room table was clear. Clicking on the overhead lights, Mathus reached into a cabinet for a stack of clean towels and a wax tablecloth. Inviting the woman who was still standing to take a seat in one of the comfortable kitchen chairs, he spread out the table cloth for the unconscious one, before standing back to let the man lay her out.

[Brooke Hansen]

“I’ll be fine.” Brooke assured the doctor, her voice treacle-thick and scented with blood from where she bit her tongue and hadn’t felt it. At least she could still taste the copper tang. The doctor waved her ahead and into the kitchen, and Brooke trudged ahead.

“Her first, doc.” She said over her shoulder. “She’s your priority.” Unless Algy was hiding some mortal wound beneath his flight jacket, she felt confident putting Livvy at the front of the line.

Entering the kitchen, Brooke moved to the far end of the room, allowing Algy space to bring Livvy in. The doc busied himself preparing the dining table and turning his kitchen into a cottage-core OR. He indicated a chair for her, but she didn’t sit at his invite. Instead, she told him, “I have basic medical training. I can assist.”

[Algy Trevelyan]

Livvy wasn't faring well, even if she was conscious. Algy didn't miss the retch, although he was lucky that she stopped herself. What followed was either a moment of deliriousness or an attempt at getting her mind off things, but it didn't matter as Algy felt her go limp in his arms and her face slacken in the familiar sight of unconsciousness.

It had Algy moving faster to deposit her on the table the doctor had readied, paying little attention to the house around them. Later, in a moment without something demanding his attention, he'd take it all in and find it quite charming, but now was not the moment.

As he laid Livvy down carefully, he caught the conversation between the doctor and Brooke. He adjusted the woman to lie in the recovery position, making sure her airways were clear and she was breathing. As he checked her breathing, he looked over his shoulder at Brooke.

“You've been showing signs of incoordination and slurred speech, sit down,” Algy retorted, his tone straightforward but not aggressive. Although the final two words had a note of command in it, borne of a habit of issuing orders. “Doctor, it's been a while since I stepped into the role of medic. Tell me what to do.”

[Lavender Wise]

She was floating in the water again, breathing fine without assistance from any scuba gear or the like. Livvy looked around her and wondered what she was doing here, because this was a familiar place near home, and she was in Easthaven, Massachusetts and not home at all.

She was so still, just hanging there, limbs moving infinitesimally, that fish emerged and swam near her after a while. She loved to see them. A water elemental she had met years before approached, all bubbles and refracting light, an expression of concern on what would pass for a face. Livvy didn't understand. She looked up at the surface of the water, at the sun shining through, then back to the fish and the elemental.

This is a dream, isn't it? she managed to thinksay to the elemental, who nodded in response. There was a man on fire, she continued, a creature controlling fire. The elemental nodded again.

Feeling a surge of urgency, Livvy kicked for the surface, but it was farther away than it appeared. Frantic now, she kicked and stretched until her fingers were almost piercing through the membrane of water, like pressing against plastic wrap, waiting for it to break -

She was lying on her side. People were talking around her, but she couldn't process what was being said. She would be able to recall it all later, of course, as things were recorded regardless of her level of understanding. There was this faint, wet, mewling sound. It took a moment to realize it came from her.

[Mathus Dascălu]

The woman's answer was not unexpected. She'd displayed classic signs of businessness-like stoicism despite her injuries, the sort that signaled a well-intentioned, if difficult patient to Mathus. Still, neither the man or she seemed concerned, so he did not worry. He did wish she'd given him a better overview of her injuries, but that would need to wait, as everyone insisted that he focus on the human woman on the table.

As she went on to offer help, Mathus offered her an appreciative, kind smile. He recognized her nurturing, caring spirit, but had to shake his head. She was upright, but she wasn't looking good and he could smell the fresh tang of blood when she spoke, hearing teeth biting through flesh.

Before he could say as much, the man cut in, offering a bit more insight into a few things. About him, the nature of their relationship, and the woman's injuries. He glanced between the two with a curious look as he washed his hands at the kitchen sink. Perhaps they were Exchange. Regardless, the man was right and he preferred the woman sitting down rather than helping.

“Thank you, but please, rest. She’s in good hands,” the doctor reiterated with a smooth, gentle tone. The woman on the table moaned. To the man, Mathus gestured to the pile of towels as he searched in his medical bag for a pair of shears. “Wash your hands and plug the sink. We need cool water to soothe the burning.” Mathus wanted to use mundane means before he reached for his magic. He went on, muttering to himself, “Though we may need to put her in the bath...” The burns were extensive. “What is her name? What are your names? Are you Exchange?” The questions were presented rapid fire, but his tone lacked urgency even as his hands moved with practiced quickness to start cutting fabric away from her burns.

[Brooke Hansen]

Brooke stood slack-jawed as Algy ordered her to sit. Her eyes narrowed and she didn't do as she was told. The doctor, on the other hand, soothed with a placating bedside manner. Brooke took an instant liking to him.

“Her name is Livvy. I’m Brooke. And I’m Exchange.” She slurred to the doctor and cast a scornful look Algy’s way. Blood edged her teeth as she spoke. And to prove the point, she drove her hand into her jacket pocket. Burnt skin snagged on the fabric and pulled, and without reacting she drew out the golden medallion and showed them both. But she recognized this wasn’t the time to get into it and ceded them the floor. Even with her outburst, Livvy came first.

Stepping aside, she pushed the Wayfarer Badge into her jacket pocket. She thought Algy was cool when they first met, and now she reconsidered that. Who the fuck did this boomer think he was to order her about? Junior Agent or not, she had the authority here, not him.

The straps to Livvy’s backpack were still in hand. If she couldn’t assist, she could still be useful. On the kitchen island, she upended the bag, intent on finding out anything important about the woman fighting for her life on the dining room table.

[Algy Trevelyan]

Algy left Livvy where she was to scrub down in the sink. The sink itself was spotless, so as he rinsed away the soap suds, he could go straight to filling the sink with cool water. He glanced over his shoulder at the doctor's question as he worked, letting Brooke speak first.

He caught her scornful look and only met her eyes impassively for a second, utterly unaffected by her apparent miniature tantrum about being whacked with some common sense. He'd thought an Exchange agent would act more professionally, more maturely, but perhaps standards were slacker here. Neither the time nor place, so Algy looked back to his work as he answered the doctor himself.

“Algy Trevelyan, doctor. No association with the Exchange on this side of the pond,” the dragon offered, giving the doctor the rough outline of a picture.

He turned away from the sink, letting it run, as he observed the doctor deftly cutting Livvy out of her burnt clothing and stood at the ready to assist with whatever he was directed to do. He had an ear out for the running sink, timing it for when he had to shut it off.

[Lavender Wise]

Someone was gently, very gently, shifting her clothing ever-so-slightly. The weight of her winter coat was absent, as far as she could tell, so it must have already been removed. Maybe it was in the car... She couldn't remember. There was a soft, rhythmic shushing sound, which stopped after a moment with a faint click. Then it started again, only further away, it seemed. She had difficulty identifying it, not initially recognizing the sound of scissors cutting fabric, but she still tried, hoping her focus on her surroundings would keep her mind off other things.

It wasn't working very well.

Livvy wondered if she should open her eyes or say something. Did she want to see what was happening? Where were they, anyway? Was there anything she should tell them? She was trembling - shock? - and knew she had burns, first and maybe some second degree. Probably some second degree, if she was honest with herself. If she was remembering correctly, someone lobbed a ball of fire at her, hitting one side of her face and igniting her clothing.

stop, drop, roll, stop, drop, roll...

It was a good thing she didn't wear polyester or any of those other plastic-type fabrics. Natural fibers all the way...

[Mathus Dascălu]

Cinder Speak, extraordinary success

The question led to an unexpected confrontation, but from the looks of her, Mathus found he couldn't entirely blame Brooke for being on edge. She was in a bad state, skin already sloughing from her body. How she wasn't floored with agony could only be answered with a preternatural ability. It was the only reason Mathus wasn't more insistent that she sit down.

She presented the familiar coin badge, and then Livvy's things were dumped out on his kitchen counter. One eyebrow lifted, Mathus was quiet, observing the pair of them with watchful tension, like a hound awaiting a command from an unseen master. If this escalated, then the werewolf would be tossing two people out onto the street, but it seemed to stop at Algy, the man refusing to even rise to the outburst. All the while, Mathus continued his work with Livvy's clothes, his hands steady.

Mathus was glad to see most of the woman's clothing was natural fibers. He didn't need to contend with polyester melted onto her skin. With the woman already in the recovery position on her right side, he was pulling fabric away from her left, from burns around her head, neck, and shoulder. He was careful, gentle, his fingers cool and quick.

With the sink running, filling with cool water, he calmly answered the room, “Mathus Dascălu, at your service. But you may call me Matt. Or Matty, if it pleases you.” He carefully peeled away Livvy's jacket and the shirt underneath. It all smelled of cooked flesh, tortured and raw. Having gotten what he needed out of asking for people's names, he started speaking to the unconscious woman, in a low soothing voice that resonated on timbres outside of normal hearing. “Livvy, can you hear me? You are safe now. We are going to help you.” As he spoke, the werewolf projected his gentle calm out into his words, hoping the magic would let it filter down into Livvy's unconsciousness.

[Brooke Hansen]

She went ignored. He was so high and mighty and she was so far below his contempt he couldn’t even bring himself to say anything. All she got in response was an impassive stare, like she wasn’t worth the effort. The disrespect at being written off so easily left her irate and dumbstruck. Again, who the fuck did he think he was?

But the moment was passing and their attention, rightfully so, was on Livvy. Despite the anger seething beneath the surface, Brooke wouldn’t make any more of a scene. She said her piece and had to be content with that, even as the memory soured like old milk. Head down, Brooke buried herself in the contents of Livvy’s backpack.

The pistol was the first concern and she set it aside after checking the chamber. Working the slide proved something of a challenge. The magazine she pocketed. She tossed the crinkled receipts back into the backpack, using it to hold anything unimportant. The gum followed suit.

“Her inhaler.” She placed the item close to Mathus but still on the island, visible but not in the way.

Brooke took a moment with the snapshots and felt like a voyeur peeping into Livvy’s precious moments. Thanksgiving, family pets, family… memories important enough to carry constantly. She tucked the pictures back into the pocket where they were safe, and found the wallet. Splaying it open on the doctor’s kitchen island, she flipped through driver’s license, insurance cards, credit cards, and cash, and then hissed through her teeth.

This could complicate things. As Brooke examined the EPD business card from Lavender Wise's wallet, she croaked, her voice strained and raspy. “She’s a cop.”

[Algy Trevelyan]

Cinder Assistance +1d6 to Mathus

Algy took on the role of assistant as the doctor began his work, taking away the rags of her clothing to dispose of as they were cut away and pulled clear. It wasn't strenuous work, but it kept the doctor's table clear of debris. In the mindset of lending a hand, even as a second-rate nurse at best, Algy was still calm and businesslike as he did his work. Indifferent to the state of their patient’s dress or appearance, even if the burns could be ghastly to look at.

The doctor was speaking calmly, trying to get Livvy's attention; a background sound as they worked. As she seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, Algy thought it looked like she was in shock. Her system had taken enough of a beating that her body didn't quite know what to do, overwhelmed and struggling. In these moments, one had to trust the experts, so he did as the doctor bid him.

Algy only glanced up once from his work, as Brooke announced Livvy was an asthmatic of some kind, and a police officer. Well used to procedures dealing with mundane law enforcement, Algy wasn't concerned, returning to his work. Perhaps a hiccup, but if the Easthaven Exchange were worth their salt, there would be a procedure in place for dealing with just such circumstances. The old proxy of ‘that person sure is off their rocker’ was a trusty standby if there wasn’t one.

Once the sink filled, Algy returned to turn off the faucet and soak the towels. Only gone a moment before he was back at the table and holding out the sodden fabric for the doctor's use. He'd follow instructions on where to place them, if the doctor so desired, or simply shuttle them over if the doctor had it in hand.

[Lavender Wise]

There were people talking around her and she thought she understood a few words: 'mat', 'safe', 'help' and 'cop'. As she lay on her right side, Livvy wondered if she was resting on a mat. Being assured she was safe and someone was helping were positive things, if her mind was generating sentences which fit those words correctly.

With the word 'cop', she thought someone might have called the police. She thought the fire department would be a better idea, as a person had been throwing flames around like weapons. Maybe he had used a flamethrower, though she didn't remember seeing any equipment. Was she even recalling the encounter properly?

Drifting in and out as her body struggled to deal with her injuries, she whispered through cracked lips, “D-did we get the b-bastard?”

[Mathus Dascălu]

Strike Speak, complete success
Cinder Fortify, extraordinary success, +2 luck to all allies

While he worked, he kept tabs on the other two moving around his kitchen. Brooke was sorting through Livvy’s things while Algy worked at the sink. The Exchange agent’s announcement that the woman was a cop made the werewolf frown. That could be troublesome.

“A cop,” Mathus murmured thoughtfully to himself as he straightened from speaking in the poor woman’s ear. “Poor woman. Wrong place wrong time- Thank you.”

He took the cool cloth from Algy and started laying it over the bright, angry burns. After, he showed the other man other places he could arrange the towels, appreciative of the help. The intent was to slow the burning and mitigate the damage.

As they did, Livvy seemed to come around enough to speak. Her question made the werewolf lift both eyebrows and glance up at the other two. Unaware of what happened, there was no way for him to answer so he kept quiet, but listened, curious. Still, his concentration was better kept on tending to her injuries and, being a God-fearing creature, silently praying for a solution.

As the werewolf worked, efficient but relaxing slightly with Livvy being semi-conscious, he started to hum softly under his breath, left in a lyrical mood after Vespers. At first, it was idle, a few snatches of random songs until he landed on the first few notes of Agni Parthene, and continued with the tune. A bit of an earworm, it was firmly rooted in his head after he’d heard a rendition in Arabic, but without knowing that language, he stuck with mumbling through the Greek lyrics. The hymn was for himself and it wasn’t perfect, but when he got to a stanza he actually knew all the words for, he was feeling it and used the quiet song as a vehicle for magic.

The werewolf saw no reason to offer warning or explanation. The arcane energy immediately brightened and warmed the space, offering comfort and healing. Energy levels would lift, minor aches and pains might disappear completely, while major ones might start to heal. It was a strong rush of magic this time, and with a hopeful sound, Mathus lifted one of the towels to check the tissue beneath.

[Brooke Hansen]

Brooke almost answered Livvy, yet instead when the doctor raised his eyes in silent question to them both, she nodded definitively. Mathus could tell his patent whatever he thought best. Or Algy would say something. Now she thought about it, the trinket she plucked from the ash sat heavy on her mind. That still needed investigation, but like so much, now wasn’t the time.

Brooke worked the business card from Livvy’s wallet with deadened fingers and pocketed it. She slapped the wallet shut and dropped it back into the backpack. It was as she did this, the room warmed and brightened simultaneously. Unease washed over her as she wondered if this sudden warmth was a sign of something more ominous. Was she about to pass out, and this was some sudden sensory spasm before she collapsed? Tensing and waiting for the moment to pass, she leaned more into the island, propping herself against it.

The warmth went beyond simple heat. She sighed, basking in the relief, even numbed as she was.
The bright light seemed to suffuse the kitchen, but was never harsh or stringent on her eyes. She didn’t feel the need to close them or turn her head from the source. As the warming illumination lapped at her burns, she felt the prickle of sensation that went beyond touch.

This was some potent healing magic, she recognized that much, and knew it to be starkly different from her own brand of stitchery. She side-eyed the doctor, realizing he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Brooke hated to admit it, because he was still an asshole, but Algy made a good decision in bringing Livvy here. The cop seemed to be in expert hands and she was surplus to requirement. Better to be productive than lurk.

“I have a call to make.” She said, and didn’t expect a reply with the woman on the dining room table taking focus. And with that, Brooke walked stiffly from the kitchen and back down the hallway. She nestled at the foot of the stairs, compact and keeping herself coiled tight. Her phone hung heavy in her fingers as she dialed the office.

[Algy Trevelyan]

Livvy spoke as Algy placed a cool cloth over her neck, covering the burns there and soothing them. He looked at her face, eyes searching for hers, and hopeful that she was coming to, for just a moment. After that split second, he spoke.

“Sent packing, love. Don't you worry,” he reassured, glancing at the doctor and catching the curious look. He did not elaborate, but that was not out of any sense of secrecy. It was simply a distraction in the moment, but he thought the doctor was due an explanation once Livvy was in the mend.

Moving on, the dragon continued placing the cool cloths over the burns the doctor had indicated, diligent and careful. As he worked, he listened to the doctor's humming, unable to place the tune until he caught the familiar Marian hymn. It was one he'd heard in church, when he'd attended as a boy. O Virgin Pure, he knew it as.

Algy was not a religious man, but it had been a communal element in his youth, and on and off as an adult. Church did not change much as eras passed, not if it took itself and its rituals seriously. To a dragon past a century, it was a familiar comfort, even if he did not count himself among the flock.

As the tune progressed, and Algy resisted the temptation to join in, he felt the sudden rush of energy. He felt rejuvenated, and he could feel the tightness of the bruise on his face fading. His aches and pains disappeared, and he was left with the satisfied conclusion that the rumours he'd heard of the doctor were correct.

When Brooke spoke, the dragon looked up and offered her a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nodded in acknowledgement. If Algy had felt it, and Livvy was the presumed target, he could only surmise she was also feeling better.

[Lavender Wise]

She heard an answer to her question. The voice was the man with the interesting accent. Livvy thought she could listen to him reading the phone book and be quite content. Her eyes didn't open; the lids were too heavy. Had she imagined the man's voice?

Keep drift... drift... drift-ing...

Floating in the pond near her childhood home again, she knew one of the water elementals was nearby, keeping her company. The water was cool and soothing and she sighed, aware she sent a small trail of bubbles to the surface. She wasn't drowning though, not in the least. She was safe. Safe from the heat of the day, the sun, the man-creature throwing fire. He was gone, gone, gone...

Livvy looked up at the surface and could see the water was on fire, but it was less intense now. Had it been intense before? Why was there fire on the -

'Smoke on the Water' came to her with a distant, unconditional series of guitar riffs and there was Deep Purple, all five members of the band, rocking out in a psychedelic wardrobe as they played near a school of tiny fish. It should have looked strange, but it didn't. She hummed along with them and surrendered herself to the music.

“...a f-fire in... the sk-sky...” she whispered, eyes still closed, a small smile on her face.

[Mathus Dascălu]

It wasn't immediate, but as Mathus checked around beneath the towels, he found Livvy's burns healing--the lighter burns disappeared completely while the more severe ones were reduced to what looked like a mild sunburn. As he offered silent words of praise to heaven, the woman on the table started to hum. It took him a moment to recognize the tune, and when he did, he cut out his own song.

She managed to whisper a few of the lyrics, and Mathus huffed. “I suppose she prefers her own music,” he joked to Algy, mildly amused as he changed out some of the towels for cooler, fresh ones. “Or my singing is just that bad.”

[Brooke Hansen]

Brooke sandwiched her phone in the crook of her neck and shoulder and wasn’t the least bit concerned at the obtuse angle of her neck. Normally she would have just put the call on speaker, but she wasn’t interested in disturbing the proceedings in the kitchen, and besides, this was Exchange business. This freed her hands as she dumped the night’s events to the dispatcher. Brooke tried to keep to the facts, but was prone to ramble and make a story of it.

As she spoke, slouched at the foot of the stairs and enthralled with the telling, she held her hand up for examination. The burns she suffered in the battle were red smears that mottled her skin. Still flaky and blackened in places, she idly picked at a burn with a fingernail, feeling none of it and coaxing a clear and viscous seepage from the damaged skin. Brooke’s mouth twisted in disgust and she wiped her palm across the wound. She dithered, then cleaned her palm on her ash-stained jeans.

The distraction caused her phone briefing to stumble and she took a second to pick up where she left off. She’d likely be here for a while more.

[Algy Trevelyan]

There was no response from the woman on the table, so Algy let her rest rather than attempt to speak to her again. She seemed out of it still, humming a modern tune as a counterpoint to the older hymn. A decade older than Algy himself, he was contemporary with it and rather enjoyed hearing it now, so many years since he'd last heard it. It was disappointing when the doctor cut his rendition short, in deference to Livvy's whispered tune.

“The youth of today simply don't appreciate a good hymn,” Algy joked himself, carefully switching out some of the wet cloth, piling up the ones that had warmed to bring to the sink and get out of the way.

He noted the state of her as he worked, realising that the burns did not look as bad as they had before. The healing had done impressive work, showing the power of magic. Some of the second-degree burns had cleared up, smooth skin firm and intact. In other places, where the worst of the burns had been, the skin was red and angry, but not blistered. A nasty sunburn, at best.

Clearly thrilled by the improvements he was seeing, Algy looked up to Mathus with an impressed expression, smiling as he gave the doctor a compliment. “Excellent work, sir. I can see why you came so highly recommended.”

[Lavender Wise]

In her pond, her internal safe place, Livvy felt a current of water wrap itself around her. It was cool and refreshing at the start, then gradually shifted to being warm and comfortable. It embraced her, soothed her, healed her, made her happy.

The water elemental laughed, happy as well, and Livvy grinned at them before kicking joyously for the surface.

She sat up abruptly in the real world and took a few gasping breaths, as if she really had been under water and needed to relearn how to breathe on land again.

“Whoa.. hello...” She blinked at the two men as she quickly placed one hand on the table in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “How y'all doin'?”

[Mathus Dascălu]

Mathus could hear Brooke in another room, hearing the snatches of words, but nothing distinct. That was fine--he was just satisfied to know that she hadn't left before he could look at her. As he and Algy changed out towels, they needed fewer and fewer of them as they discovered healed stretches of skin.

Satisfied with the healing as well, he laughed softly at Algy's comment, and then dipped his head to his compliment. “I take no credit,” he replied demurely, which might've sounded esoteric if his house wasn't decorated to the gills with his faith. One could make the connection.

And, it seemed Mathus would not be taking credit for Livvy's sudden bout of consciousness either. Leaning over the table with a towel in hand, the werewolf pulled back in time to stop them from knocking their heads together, and fixed her with a mildly surprised look.

“Quite well, madame,” he said, watching her carefully and listening to the rush of her heartbeat. It seemed steady. “Lie back down, please. How are you feeling?”

[Brooke Hansen]

More snatches of conversation filtered from the kitchen and while she was far enough removed not to catch what was said, the tone seemed steady enough that it didn’t raise any alarm. If anything, it almost sounded carefree, like everything was in hand. Brooke only paid more attention to what was happening in the other room when a southern twang joined the conversation.

The distraction made her trail to silence. The fact that Livvy was conscious and talking amazed her. She almost couldn’t believe it, but then again, she dealt with the unbelievable as a matter of course. Still with phone clutched between her shoulder and cheek, she sat up and then leaned forward, trying to peer past the banister and into the kitchen. She couldn’t see much from where she sat.

The voice on the other end of the phone was inquiring and drew Brooke’s attention back to her debrief. She shook herself, remembering where she left off and picked up the story again. She increased her pace, however, favoring a clipped narrative that got her off the phone quicker.

[Algy Trevelyan]

Algy chuckled in good humour as the man claimed no credit, but he knew the statement likely carried some truth to it. There were plenty of frauds out in the world who dressed up miracles in divine clothing, but the doctor had performed his own with no fanfare, the tangible evidence clear to see. It was only reinforced by how little the doctor seemed to take credit for it, even as the primary mode of channelling whatever magics, divine or divinely inspired.

The dragon was curious enough to ask further, but before he could say anything the woman in the table woke abruptly. Similarly to the doctor, Algy had to jerk out of the way, letting out a huffed chuckle at the scene, a little incredulous.

Leaving the doctor to handle his patient, Algy simply gave Livvy a reassuring smile as he picked up the cloths she no longer needed. Turning to the sink, the dragon began the work of wringing the water out of each, rather than leaving them soaking wet. With his firm grip, it was easy to squeeze as much as he could out of them, but he was careful enough to not tear them.

[Lavender Wise]

Livvy didn't need to be told twice. It seemed she had moved too suddenly, not that she had consciously chosen to do so, and had no real other option than to lie back down. Even with her hand trying to keep her propped up, she was going back like a load of dirty laundry. Maybe the room would stopped spinning now that she was horizontal once more.
She closed her eyes.

Nope...

Opening them again quickly, she replied faintly, “Like Ah'm on that... spinnin' teacup ride at the... c-county fair...” She swallowed, feeling mildly nauseous, one hand gripping the edge of the table tightly. Took a breath, blew it out, tried to relax.

Nope...

She had seen Algy was in the room, over by the sink now, but not Brooke. She looked up at the other man, whom she guessed was a doctor. “Brooke? Where's B-Brooke? She got hurt...”

[Mathus Dascălu]

Livvy laid back down and Mathus nodded in approval, keeping his hands busy checking beneath her towels. The woman described her symptoms, which were about what he expected, even put so colorfully. If it had been anything besides dizziness, he'd be more worried.

While Algy went back to the sink, Livvy went on to ask about Brooke. “In the next room- Well enough to be on the phone,” Mathus replied soothingly. He would need to check her next, if she allowe dit. Pulling a pen light from one of his pockets, he clicked it on and then leaned over Livvy to check her pupils, looking for signs of a concussion. “I would like to move you to the couch- May I lift you?”

It would be good to get her somewhere more comfortable while she recovered, rather than the hard surface of his kitchen table.

[Brooke Hansen]

She heard her name ring from the southern belle, a rising alarm drawing her attention back to the kitchen. Not only as Livvy alive and kicking, she seemed cognizant enough to worry about others. Touched at the sentiment, a lopsided smile graced her lips. Brooke being the only one not present in the makeshift OR, Livvy presumed the worst for her. The doctor assured her otherwise and sought to move his patient to more comfortable surroundings.

Brooke eyed the sturdy looking couch nestled in cool blues and forest greens and realized Livvy was incoming. Her attention would be needed here momentarily. “Okay, so—I gotta go.” She’d given a rundown of the night’s events, enough for a preliminary report, at least. “Yeah, I’ll call back if there’s anything else. Thanks.” She ended the call and pocketed her phone, awaiting company.

[Algy Trevelyan]

Cinder (Fire) Exceptional success

As Algy wrung out the soaked cloths meticulously, he listened to the conversation behind him. Livvy was disoriented and confused, predictably, but still had the presence of mind to ask after Brooke. The dragon glanced behind him, scanning the room and the living room just through the doorway, seeing the shift of a shadow. Brooke was still here, which was perhaps better for Livvy keeping calm.

The doctor handled it, speaking of moving Livvy to a more comfortable spot. It would no doubt do her good, but Algy refrained from stepping in even with his enhanced strength. It would not do to be obvious, and Livvy was light enough he did not think the doctor would have a problem with her. The man looked fit enough to shift around someone considerably bigger than the woman on the table.

Instead of getting involved, Algy picked up the wrung out cloths and considered them. Heat was best for the task of drying them, and sanitising, so he narrowed his focus on that eternal warmth inside his very being, extending it outwards just enough to warm the palms of his hands. He'd done something similar before, so it was just a matter of keeping it hot but stopping short of burning, like the hot rocks used for cooking in some parts of the world. Impervious as he was, the heat didn't bother him, even if the temperature of the kitchen increased to a comfortable toasty warmth, like a fireplace had been lit for some time.

The even heat dried the cloths quickly, evaporating any remaining water, the steam doing some of the work to kill anything bacterial they should be worried about. As each dried, Algy set it aside carefully folded as he entertained himself with busy work. He exhaled, a sliver of smoke escaping, spreading the scent of campfire and burning wood.

[Lavender Wise]

It was a relief to learn that Brooke was 'well enough'. She wasn't critical, so that was good, very good. Livvy let out a breath and managed a weak smile while the doctor checked her eyes. When he asked if he could lift her, her first thought was to decline, thinking she could walk there herself, but just lifting her head to look around the kitchen was a mistake. It hit the table with a soft thunk as she closed her eyes to regain a sense of stillness.

“Y'all can do that, yeah,” she managed softly, swallowing hard and hoping she wasn't going to vomit. Livvy opened her eyes and looked into his. “Thanks, Doc...” He had nice eyes.

Don't barf, don't barf, don't barf...

[Mathus Dascălu]

Though he kept his attention on Livvy, Mathus kept the other happenings in his house in his periphery. He caught the tones of an ending conversation from Brooke and the sounds of Algy cleaning up around his sink. He intended to tell the man not to worry about it once he had a moment, a habit from well-meaning guests over who lingered around his kitchen sink, but then he caught the scent of heating water.

Glancing over his shoulder, he expected to see the hot water on, but instead he was wringing the towels out, plumes of steam shimmering around his hands. It was a quaint little scene of domestic magic, and Mathus huffed a soft laugh. Oh, to have magic for drying his laundry.

After the split-second detour, his focus returned to Livvy, and he chuckled again. Asking if he could move her was a fairly rhetorical question. If she said no, he'd have left her on the table, and there she'd stay, as he sincerely doubted she would be moving under her own power. Stepping up to the edge of the table, he gently slipped his hand under her shoulders, while the other hand rearranged her legs so he could hook his other under her knees.

“It is nothing,” Mathus assured her gently as he lifted her from the table. He smiled when their eyes met, his expression warm and kind. She weighed practically nothing to the werewolf, and he turned carefully to maneuver through the kitchen and into the cool shadows of his living room. There was a large blue couch with blankets slung over the backrest. Finding Brooke in the room, the man smiled and showed her a semi-conscious, but healed Livvy, asking merrily, “Right as rain. Now will you let me look at you?”

[Brooke Hansen]

Brooke watched with a raised eyebrow as Mathus returned through the living room with Livvy in his arms. While she still didn’t seem one hundred percent, she was a hell of a lot better than when they all arrived at the doctor’s house. That either spoke to the doctor's ability or they had all overreacted in bringing Livvy here. Brooke grinned, entertaining the latter while knowing better.

She offered Livvy a small nod that was both greeting and relief at seeing her well. As the doctor said; right as rain. Brooke looked past Livvy and towards Mathus.

“Lead the way.” She said with fewer marbles in her mouth, the phone conversation apparently enough to massage back a little of her muscle memory.

[Algy Trevelyan]

The steam clouded around Algy and the sink, the dragon content to his little domestic task. With the healing at the doctor's hands, Algy's hurts were soothed and the strain of pushing back the creature's flames had eased enough that he could tend to this domestic task.

Another small stream of smoke escaped through his nostrils on a quiet exhale, mixing with the steam and disappearing, but the soft laugh had the dragon glancing over his shoulder. He spotted the doctor looking his way, ducking his head on a low chuckle himself. He lifted his head to offer the doc a crooked smile, before he turned back to his work.

He listened to the doctor lift and carry Livvy out, pressing another cloth between his hot palms and watching the steam twist upwards. Quietly he began whistling, a cheerful tune from some foreign film he'd seen years ago, mostly by accident.

[Lavender Wise]

The doctor carried her to another room without exerting any apparent effort. Livvy absently wondered about her current weight, which had been one hundred and twenty-six-point-four pounds last time she stood on a scale, which was last Thursday at 6:42 am. Not that she weighed a ton, but had she lost any pounds since then or was this man deceptively strong? Very fit, she decided.

“Its not nothin',” she replied, her voice still sounding like she smoked too much, when in fact, she didn't smoke at all. They passed someone on their way to a couch and she was relieved to recognize Brooke. The cute doctor made sure she was comfortable - as best as one could be, given she had been in very bad shape not too long ago - then asked to take a look at the young blonde woman, who had just put away her cell phone. She agreed, though she sounded a bit odd. Livvy wasn't surprised, given the givens.

“Hey,” she said weakly, looking in Brooke's direction but not actually able to see her. “He's good,” she said with a smile, referring to the doctor. Someone was whistling in another room. Her grandpa whistled all the time when he did his chores. It was soothing to hear it now.

[Mathus Dascălu]

After showing her to Brooke, Mathus crouched and settled Livvy on the couch. The woman sank in a bit, and as she got comfortable, Mathus carefully adjusted her clothing so she could stay decent. Then, straightening, he shook a blanket out so she could cover herself if she liked. Although he judged she was quite nauseous, she didn't seem to be in danger according to his practiced senses, so leaving her alone for a moment seemed fine.

As she complimented his doctoring, he huffed another laugh, and simply shook his head. Brooke, to his relief, seemed amenable to his help now, and he nodded. Patting Livvy's leg, he smiled. “I will be right back to check on you.” And then to Brooke, he nodded back to the kitchen.

At first, he'd considered seeing her there in the living room, but thought she might prefer some privacy. He still wasn't certain about Livvy's level of knowledge, and he had some pointed questions to ask.

Returning to the steamy kitchen where Algy worked at the sink, he simply gestured to one of the kitchen chairs as his eyes skimmed over Brooke's exposed skin and the angry, peeling patches. She looked partially healed already, even since the last time he'd looked at her a few minutes before. She still spoke strangely, but she didn't move like she was wounded.

Looking up to meet her eyes, the werewolf wore a knowing smile as he asked quietly, “And so, what manner of magic is this?” He didn't know quite what he was looking at but he knew it was something supernatural. Brooke did not smell like animal, though, so he was left to conclude it was something else. Once he knew that, he would know better how to proceed.

[Brooke Hansen]

“So I’ve seen…” Brooke replied lightly and pulled herself to her feet. She shared a furtive glance with the doctor, something like an inside joke, as she followed him back into the kitchen.

This time, she sat as requested, and thumped into the chair. She glanced to Algy at the sink as she did. He was whistling and folding towels, the air about him was cloudy with steam or smoke. She could smell fire, but that could have just been the memory of flames set into their clothes.

The doctor met her eyes and she stared back. His question coaxed a smirk from her. Brooke smacked her lips, her eyes roaming in thought. She sighed and settled on an explanation. “I kinda cut my nerves.” Her grin widened at the understatement. “Can’t feel much of anything right now.” Brooke confided.

[Algy Trevelyan]

Algy was focused on his task, whistling quietly to himself, but he had an ear out for the others in the living room. He heard the murmurs of conversation, the lighter voices of Brooke and Livvy, before footsteps moved back towards the kitchen. He continued his work, whistling trailing off to fade out as he glanced over his shoulder. He offered them a crooked smile, but didn't linger, instead returning his attention to the last of his work.

Now quiet, he dried off the last of the cloths they'd used and folded it neatly. All of them were, piled up by his elbow as he'd systematically gone through them. He pulled back his heat, and the magic that allowed it, letting his palms cool. The whole of him would still be hot to the touch, but not burning.

As the doctor prompted Brooke, Algy placed the last on top of the pile and pushed it aside, leaving it on the counter. He didn't search around for where they belonged, leaving that to the host rather than rudely poke around. He stepped away from the sink and passed them to join Livvy in the living room, pretending not to hear Brooke's answer. Although, he couldn't help filing it away as an interesting tidbit to know. It explained much of the aftermath of the fight to him.

Stepping softly into the living room, he crossed to the couch and gently touched Livvy on the shoulder, gently enough that it would not wake her if she was sleeping. “Alright, Livvy?” he checked in, voice quiet and, again, easy to ignore if she was that out of it.

[Lavender Wise]

Brooke and the doctor left, probably for the kitchen where he had attended to her. Livvy hoped that the woman's injuries were as minor as she seemed to be treating them. Doubtless, the doctor would be able to work the same sort of miracle as he had with her burns. Aside from anything else, the exhaustion, the tension, the incredible pain suffered during the confrontation with the 'burning man', Livvy knew he had been able to heal the majority of her burns.

He had healed her...

There was magic afoot, she had no doubt. It was wonderful to experience the process, whatever he did, and the knowledge and trust that Algy had in the man, enough to bring her to his home, for crying out loud. She wondered if the other three were stressing about how they were trusting her, too.

Livvy sighed and closed her eyes, until she felt a warm touch on her shoulder. She blinked at Algy and a slow smile grew for him.

“Hey,” she said, wishing her voice would sort itself out soon. At least she sounded like a quiet six-pack-a-day smoker. “Yeah, Ah feel a whole lot better. Better than Ah should, considering the amount of damage that guy, thing did to me. The doc is pretty good stuff.” Her expression became more serious. “Look, y'all don't hafta worry about me tellin' anyone about all this,” she began, wanting him to know they were safe from any investigation or public inquiry. “Ah know about magic in the world and think its just fine.”

[Mathus Dascălu]

Hearing Algy depart, Mathus glanced over his shoulder as the other man disappeared into the living room, instinctively mindful of what was going on in his home. Having a vague measure of him by now, the doctor assumed he was checking on Livvy and received confirmation by snatches of conversation from the other room. Satisfied with that, the rest of his attention remained on Brooke, and he lifted both eyebrows in clear astonishment at her answer.

It wasn’t at the substance of what she’d done—magic answered that—but the fact that she’d done it. It seemed extreme but effective. It also explained her garbled speech that they'd mistaken for a concussion, as well as her clear disregard for her injuries. She couldn’t even feel them.

“Well, that is one way to skin a cat,” he murmured, rubbing his chin as he considered her. His eyebrows knit together while he thought. If she wasn’t panicking about her nerves being cut off and magic was involved, then the werewolf saw no reason to panic either. However, he couldn’t be sure she had a healing factor anymore and so, he turned to his supplies and pulled out a bottle of povidone iodine. It tended to stain the skin, but he didn’t keep silver nitrate or silver sulphadiazine. “I suppose that is lucky. You will not feel it while I disinfect you…” The Romanian looked critically between the bottle and the ghastly breadth of her wounds. “…All of you, I suppose.”

[Brooke Hansen]

Algy slipped from the kitchen and Brooke was oblivious to the heat of an open oven that followed him. She watched him in her peripheral and refocused on the doctor once the other man passed her eyeline. Their murmured conversation was beyond her hearing, and she grinned wider at Mathus’ astonishment.

The image of a skinned cat snagged her mind, and she realized that she could have been flayed alive and would have smiled through the torture. “Couldn’t be passing out now, could I?” She offered in blithe explanation, and it was the truth as far as she was concerned. After neutralizing the threat, Livvy became her next priority. Succumbing to her wounds wouldn’t have done anyone any favors.

Brooke eyed the bottle dark bottle of iodine. “Yeah. Do what you gotta do, doc.” She sat ready to be tended to, offering a hand with a picked-at wound as place to start. “Don’t worry. I’ll feel something again one day.” She grinned at her melodramatic doublespeak.

[Algy Trevelyan]

Her voice was rough, but that wasn't surprising. There hadn't been much smoke, but even inhaling some could ravage a human throat. The healing had been thorough, but some aches and pains would remain to heal on their own. At her compliment to the doctor, Algy nodded his agreement. He'd gone above and beyond for a trio who'd showed up unannounced, and the dragon had nothing but good things to say.

As she continued speaking, her reference to the magic had the dragon arching an eyebrow, an amused curl to his lips as her expression shifted into a serious one. Algy couldn't help the low chuckle as she finished, shaking his head. Ah, the naiveté of youth. Her knowledge–or lack thereof–of magic had been a minor concern in the face of her injuries.

“We weren't worried,” he shared, patting her shoulder gently. “Even if you weren't, ah, 'fine with it,' such things sort themselves out. Do you want a glass of water?”

Algy left the vaguely ominous statement hanging as he switched to offering Livvy something to drink. He meant nothing by it, truly, as such things usually resolved on its own. The more influential voices might need a well-placed bribe or a subtle PR campaign, but that wasn't a concern for them today. Or ever, for Algy. He'd left such work behind when he retired. She didn't need elaboration, and it was all rather boring when it came to the bottom line.

[Lavender Wise]

Livvy didn't consider herself naïve, nor did she consider herself particularly young, but if she had known of Algy's actual age and what he was capable of accomplishing when it came to feats of the supernatural kind, her opinion could have been swayed. She didn't witness everything that occurred, having been knocked for a loop fairly early on in the encounter, but she had seen enough.

Was it rude to ask about him and Brooke? She had already managed a few questions, back when he was getting her out of the back seat of her car, and he had not really answered with anything specific. She hadn't been surprised, but she couldn't help being curious. Then there was the doctor and what he had achieved with healing her burns. Not standard medical procedure.

She mulled over the phrase 'such things sort themselves out', aware that it sounded vaguely like they might have tried to make her forget or might still attempt something similar, maybe with a magic spell or a potion. She didn't have the inside scoop on the details.

“Yes, please, that'd be fine,” she said in response to his offer of water. If they were to try to alter her memory, would it even work given how she was wired? If she had any thoughts on them doing something more serious than altering her memory, she squashed it down.