It's always fun... ("Thinking" continued)

[Mista P]

...till somebeast gets hurt...

Corporal Dallas Dwayne Delory Devereux's eyes flickered open as the darkness that engulfed them began quickly fading away. Where was he? What was he doing here? How did he get here? Who else is here? And why was he in so much pain?

As Dallas' eyes struggled to focus on his surroundings against the bright light that filled the room. Bit by bit Dally slowly began to recognize the tall ceiling, the white sheets, and the soft metal frame bed. He was in the Infirmary.

But why?...Dally thought as he put his paws on the sides of the bed and tried to push himself into a sitting position. A jolt of pain across Dally's back caused him to snarl in pain and collapsed back upon the bed. Oh..that was why....

The start of pain woke up his body from it's numb state and reminded his head that he had a splitting headache, his back and tail area that they were bruised, and his mouth that had stitches on the inside of his cheek.

Wincing, Dally groaned to himself as the memories suddenly began flooding back. That's right, he had been sparring with Lord Braythe and enjoying himself when Corporal Nightfur came in. Past that, the memories were vague. Something about blood, jumping on Braythe, the Corporal, and hitting the wall? Dallas wasn't sure, and when Dallas wasn't sure, that meant that something happened involving bloodwrath...

Not only was Dallas in pain, but if he went into bloodwrath and he was in the Infirmary, it meant he was in deep trouble. Dallas didn't know totally what happened, or how he got into the Infirmary, but he knew, this wasn't going to end well.


((Ooc: Okay guys! I had no idea what we were planning on doing with this or who was going to be involved, so I left it open ended. That way, who ever posts next can do whatever we decide is going on...Yeah...Anyway, hope this post is okay!))

[Lyrielle]

"I'd stop moving if I were you, Corporal. Unless you're much too 'tough and perilous' to feel those bruised ribs of yours."

Oh he'd heard it all. If he had a quarter for every time a cadet or even an officer told him 'not to worry, just a scratch' or 'I can just grit my teeth and bear it', he could've retired by now -- or bought a bigger manor. "You've suffered some minor injuries to the inside of your cheek, and bruising in a few places. Apart from the concussion you suffered from earlier, you'll be fit to be discharged by tomorrow morning." Doctor Black stood near Dallas' bed, holding a clipboard and a quill, as well as his typical cold, detached expression written all over his gaunt, handsome features.
He wasn't looking at Dallas.
Instead, his attention had been devoted to the little black haremaid who had been sitting patiently at Dallas' bedside for what must've been a few hours or so. The dark-furred doe turned her violet eyes upon Doctor Black, wilting under his ghastly stare, her eyes adverting to the floor and then to Corporal Devereux. "A-Are you feeling better? You...passed out right after..."
Great seasons, was Azryel Black always this unnerving?

The answer was yes, all the damn time.

"Hey doc, why don'tcha stop givin' poor Nightfur the creeper crawlies and help me out 'ere?"

The unusually cranky voice belonged to a young cadet known as Starbuck, the injured hare extremely crabby due to a lack of pain medication. With Black distracted, Lyrielle was finally able to catch Dallas up on everything that happened. "Thank you for saving my life, Corporal Devereux -- it was my own fault for putting everyone in danger, and no one was seriously hurt, thanks to you." True, she was quite ashamed for how that had all played out -- to think, the daughter of Captain Rake Nightfur was so silly as to jump headfirst into another creatures' fight! -- but the bravery shown by the handsome, injured hare in the hospital bed in front of her had not gone unnoticed. It had, if anything, further solidified her already cement-like affection for him, which was probably why she hadn't left his side since she and Victiore had first brought him in.

One creature, however, who was grumpy enough for ten hares, was the newly conscious Braythe the Savage; unfortunately, the fall Braythe had to take when Dallas knocked him unconscious had severely bruised and dislocated his jaw. Doctor Black had expressed interest in the idea of wiring the badger lord's mouth shut to keep him from moving it too much, but Victiore had been opposed to the idea -- knowing her enormous friend would probably go to hell and back to get that wiring out and then choke Black with it. As for getting him to the infirmary, well, that had been no easy task. It had taken Saxifrage and an entire team of the strongest hares to carry their huge ruler down two flights of stairs to the sick bay, and several of them had to be treated for pulled muscles.
The badger lord was in an ungodly level of pain -- so bad was it, that he was curled onto his side on a nearby hospital bed, a huge bag of ice upon his jaw, and a sour expression on his face.
Damn floors.
Why did they have stone floors in this damn mountain?
He was gonna beat the daylights out of Salamandastron's architect, if they ever met in the next life...

((unfortunately, blenders did not exist back then, xD so no muffins for Braythe for a week.))

[Cross]

"Brayyyythe," a sing-song voice interrupted the big badger's thoughts. Eyes the color of fresh spring leaves sparkled with joy at the sight of Braythe's return to the realm of the conscious. Vicky smiled at the giant creature, offering him another pillow. "Glad to see you're hanging in there, sir." The little mouse gently patted a section of his arm that wasn't bandaged.

She was in a lovely mood, now. Once Braythe was taken care of, she had gotten something to eat, since her stomach was feeling less queasy. Her headache had faded, as well, and she had even been able to avoid talking much to Black, since the infirmary had suddenly become so busy.

"I'll make you some blueberry muffins," she promised, fluffing the Badgerlord's pillows. "If you stay here and heal up, okay?" Her smile could have lit up the room. She then turned to the other creature involved in the fight, Corporal Dallas. However, the dark-furred hare, whose name Vicky had finally learned was Lyrielle, was apparently trying to engage Dallas in conversation.

[Mista P]

"I'd stop moving if I were you, Corporal. Unless you're much too 'tough and perilous' to feel those bruised ribs of yours."

Dallas's dazed observations of his surroundings were brought to a sudden halt when a cold, critical voice jolted his thoughts. Jerking rather sharply into a propped up position that sent another wave of pain through his throbbing body, Dally spun to face the voice.

Oh no....Dr. Black...

"You've suffered some minor injuries to the inside of your cheek, and bruising in a few places. Apart from the concussion you suffered from earlier, you'll be fit to be discharged by tomorrow morning."

Listing off all of those painful injuries calm and as cold as reading off a list of names for roll call? Oh yes, it was Dr. Black. On a normal day, Dallas didn't mind Dr. Black, really. In fact, Dally found him amusing. He was a brilliant Doctor and has a cold sarcastic sense of humor (or at least, Dally thought it was funny). But right now? He was scary with a capital 'Scare'.

Dr. Black was just standing there, glaring. Dally looked at him with a confused, slightly disturbed look, but it seemed that Dr. Black was looking past him....

Turning slowly, Dally almost started again. The Corporal was here? What was she doing here and how did he not notice she was there?

"A-Are you feeling better? You...passed out right after..."

"Hey doc, why don'tcha stop givin' poor Nightfur the creeper crawlies and help me out 'ere?"

As Dr. Black walked over to the other patient, Dally muttered to himself as he settled back down, in a slightly propped up position. "Creep.." Dally tongued the stitches in his mouth. If that Dr. put his paws into Dally's mouth, then Dally was going to have to have a serious talk with him when he wasn't in pain...

"Thank you for saving my life, Corporal Devereux -- it was my own fault for putting everyone in danger, and no one was seriously hurt, thanks to you."

Blinking slowly, Dallas turned back to look at Corporal Nightfur. She looked exhausted and emotional run down. How long had she been there? Becoming slightly creeped out at the possibility that she may have been there the entire time, Dallas tried to focus on what the haremaid said.

Thanks. Right, she said thanks. Thanks about what? Dally's racked his brain of the memories from the sparring match. Was that why Braythe had gone crazy? Yeah...something like that... "Uhhh..no problem." Dally said, rather confused as he continued to sort through the vague memories.

Groaning, Dally rubbed his forehead with his paw. "Bolly headache....What happenedddd..." Dallas let his word fade as a memory resurfaced. He was on Braythe with a strangle hold...."I didn't kill the Badger Lord, did I wot?..."

[.:Fawn:.]

"I'll make you some blueberry muffins," she promised, fluffing the Badgerlord's pillows. "If you stay here and heal up, okay?" Her smile could have lit up the room. She then turned to the other creature involved in the fight, Corporal Dallas. However, the dark-furred hare, whose name Vicky had finally learned was Lyrielle, was apparently trying to engage Dallas in conversation.

The wounded, overgrown badger grumbled dejectedly against the pillows Victiore had just fluffed -- knowing perfectly well he wouldn't be eating muffins for quite a while. "Fine." Braythe's dark bronze eyes moved to settle on the pretty little mousemaid, watching her smile at him brightly as though the whole world were a pleasant and sunny place to be in. He almost snorted -- her optimism never failed to astound him.
Even with a sick bay consisting of Doctor Black, Dallas Devereux, Lyra Nightfur and a whole slew of other creatures, Vicky still smiled as though the whole world were at peace. Braythe sighed, managing to return her smile with a tiny one of his own. "Would you take care of newt while I'm stuck in this horrible place? He gets lonely without me." Though his words were kept low so as not to let the others overhear (even though Black probably had), they were meaningful. As to whether or not Newt would miss him was a bit of an odd idea...it was kind of hard to read emotions coming from a creature as small and physically inexpressive as that.
Still. If Braythe said Newt missed him...he very well might be.

Groaning, Dally rubbed his forehead with his paw. "Bolly headache....What happenedddd..." Dallas let his word fade as a memory resurfaced. He was on Braythe with a strangle hold...."I didn't kill the Badger Lord, did I wot?..."

The dark haremaid grimaced, this sour expression melting into a sheepish smile as she glanced over her shoulder at Braythe. "Apart from his pride, I think he'll be alright -- you don't remember what happened?"
To be fair, Lyrielle had been able to notice that Dallas seemed to have been suffering from as much bloodwrath as Braythe had -- the only difference was that instead of trying to cleave her in half, Dalals had tried to save her. That was worth remembering, wasn't it? The haremaid knew she would never forget the day Corporal Devereux knocked their Badger Lord unconscious to save her life. Saying he simply 'knocked him unconscious' didn't quite do the experience justice. He'd literally charged the badger, climbed Braythe's back and wrapped his arms around Braythe's neck until the behemoth lost enough blood circulation to pass out.

Lyrielle fixed her large, violet doe eyes upon him, trying very very hard not to think too much into the Corporal's heroics. He had only been doing his job, right? He wouldn't done that for anyone else dumb enough to be in her situation, right?
As though to interrupt her thoughts, the sudden appearance of Azryel Black jolted her out of her thoughts, the haremaid looking up at him blankly. "Erm, hello--"

"Miss Nightfur." The doctor handed a cup of broth to the exhausted haremaid. "If you're going to sit here like a stone all day, at least you can try not to pass out in the process. I've treated enough hares today to last me an entire year -- while one more silly little haremaid won't kill me, it will more than likely increase the headache I already have."
Lyrielle, not quite sure what to say to that, took the cup gratefully, diverting her gaze from the scary doctor, ears folding back down sheepishly. "Er..."

"You. Corporal Devereux." The doctor turned his attention back to the wounded buck, glancing to the tray of food someone had brought him earlier. "Only soft foods for a week or so -- if you tear those stitches out, I guarantee it will be an experience you will regret having." Black's eyes swept around the room, as though looking for someone else he had yet to 'talk to'. "Doctor's orders."

And again Azryel was off -- beckoned by a young leveret who was wailing his eyes out, his panicked mother explaining how he'd gotten a button stuck up his nose... Lyrielle almost felt kind of bad for the Doctor. If you didn't like people (in which case Dr. Black certainly didn't), then a job like this could be something akin to hell.

[Cross]

"Would you take care of newt while I'm stuck in this horrible place? He gets lonely without me."

Vicky turned her shining eyes back to the Badgerlord, smiling again. "Of course, sir," she replied. Then, straightening her uniform, she attended to one of the other wounded hares. A young, brawny private by the name of Jason smiled lopsidedly at her from where he sat. His jaw looked like it had been badly dislocated. The mousemaid's eyes widened a little. "What happened?" she asked in slight dismay.

Jason tilted his head. "Oh, jus' got me ol' ankle rolled a touch win we was haulin' th' jolly ol' Badgerlord up, wot, wot?" he answered. His speech was slurred because of his displaced jaw, and Vicky was quite surprised he hadn't called attention to it, yet. He noticed her look of confusion and alarm and chuckled, pointing to his lower jaw. "Wot, 'is? S' jus' an ol' injury, marm. Got me mout' knocked right outta rights win I were little. Ne'er did 'eal proper."

As Jason went on with his anecdote, he patiently waited while Vicky checked his ankle. She giggled in spite of herself. Jason was quite friendly. When she was done attending to him, she went over to Lyra and Dallas, who seemed to be quiet for the moment. "Both of you alright?" she asked quietly, offering a sweet smile.

[Mista P]

The dark haremaid grimaced, this sour expression melting into a sheepish smile as she glanced over her shoulder at Braythe. "Apart from his pride, I think he'll be alright -- you don't remember what happened?"

Staring off into the space in front of his bed, Dallas racked his thoughts. So Braythe wasn't dead....Well, that was good! He wouldn't be kicked out of the Patrol for good! Probation? Now that was highly probable.

Closing his navy eyes, Dally rubbed his temple. "Vaguely." He grunted to the haremaid. Whenever Dally experienced bloodwrath, the memories were always vague. Bits and pieces of this and bits and pieces of this were the only things that he ever remembered and today wasn't any different. This was going to be great to explain when he gets interrogated about what happened. 'What bolly happened buck?' 'Don't bolly remember wot!'

"Erm, hello--"

Dally looked over at the Corporal with a rather confused expression. Hello? Why did she---

"Miss Nightfur." The doctor handed a cup of broth to the exhausted haremaid.

Jerking around quickly again, Dally winced in pain. Oh great...Dr. Creep was back...

"If you're going to sit here like a stone all day, at least you can try not to pass out in the process. I've treated enough hares today to last me an entire year -- while one more silly little haremaid won't kill me, it will more than likely increase the headache I already have."

Lyrielle, not quite sure what to say to that, took the cup gratefully, diverting her gaze from the scary doctor, ears folding back down sheepishly. "Er..."

"You. Corporal Devereux." The doctor turned his attention back to the wounded buck, glancing to the tray of food someone had brought him earlier. "Only soft foods for a week or so -- if you tear those stitches out, I guarantee it will be an experience you will regret having." Black's eyes swept around the room, as though looking for someone else he had yet to 'talk to'. "Doctor's orders."

SOFT FOODS! Dally's jaw would have dropped if he did not gently bit his tongue. There was NO way Dallas was going to be eating soups and mush for a week! Doctors orders, bah humbug!

Dally slouched back into his bed, a glare that could throw daggers digging into Dr. Black's back. Glancing at the tray of soft foods beside him, Dallas fold his arms across his chest. This 'recuperation period' was not going to go over easy....

"Both of you alright?" she asked quietly, offering a sweet smile.

Still rather miffed, Dallas looked up into the eyes of a white, tattooed mousemaid. Dally vaguely remembered seeing her about the Mountain and a mouse like this would be one that Dallas would defiantly remember. However, seeing as Dally tried to avoid the Infirmary when he could, he had no idea who this mousemaid really was beside a nurse. "Depends on how you define 'alright' marm." Dally replied with a slight grunt to his voice.

[.:Fawn:.]

The black haremaid glanced at Dallas obviously scowling upon the hospital bed, his navy eyes dark with dislike -- guess he wasn't feeling up for soft foods, huh? "I'm sure it won't be that long -- who knows, maybe it'll only be a few days of soft food?" Her attempts to cheer him up with were weak, though sincere. "O-Oh we're fine, thank you Victiore." Taking a sip of the broth, Lyrielle flashed a smile at the kindly mousemaid who'd been so good as to help her get Dallas down here in the first place. It was nice having her around -- and even Lyra could sense the change in their badger lord's mood whenever she was near. Even if he didn't say it outright, Braythe obviously enjoyed her company immensely.
Speaking of Braythe...

Slightly miffed that her attention was no longer on him, even if Dallas had been hurt just as badly as he had, Braythe rolled over grumpily, looking as though he'd grit his teeth if his jaw hadn't been smarting so badly. "Hey Vicky," he grumbled, trying to think of a good reason for calling her over, now that he had her attention again. He couldn't very well just say 'can you sit by me for a bit?' Badger Lords didn't say things like that, did they? Noooo. Maybe when he was over 85, he could say things like that... The badger almost grinned, his bronze eyes glittering amidst all of that white, thick fur of his. Haha, even at 85 he'd probably still be just as rough and tough as he was now.
Braythe glanced at Victiore Fawn, the pretty little mousemaid scampering back towards his end of the room.
Would she still be here, in 50 years to fluff his pillows when he landed his injured self back in the infirmary? The Badger Lord didn't know why, but he didn't quite grasp the feeling that she was staying here permanently. As far as other mice go, Salamandastron wouldn't be the best place for her at all -- some place like Redwall or Noonvale maybe...
"Soo...uh..." He began awkwardly, moving himself into a sitting position, massive back and shoulders passing the headboard to press against the cool wall behind it. "Any...plans coming up?"

While Braythe and Victiore were conversing, and Dallas was sitting there in a huff, Lyrielle's attention was once again drawn to Doctor Black -- or rather, the sniffling, crying leveret he was trying to extract a button from.

"Careful! Don't hurt him!" Cried his mother, obviously worried.

Azryel kept his face perfectly still, even though Lyra expected a scowl or biting words of some sort -- heck, it seemed like his seriousness made him even scarier!

"A-A-A-Am I g-g-go-gonna die?!"
Squeaked the harebabe, looking at Azryel with huge, red-rimmed crying eyes. The doctor shook his head, tilting the leveret's head back. "No you're not. Stop moving, stop sniffing. This will take a second." Though he wasn't the friendliest face in the infirmary, Azryel was most certainly the quickest. Depositing a bloody, snotty button into a tray on the counter next to him, the dark Doctor Black reached over and grabbed some tissues, holding them out to both mother and son.

"Let's try not to stuff anything up our noses, shall we?"

The harebabe, sniffling, but definitely in a better mood, looked up at Azryel as though he'd never quite seen a creature like him before. The child mumbled something, and Azryel crouched down to hear him -- and then the funniest thing happened. He almost smiled a real smile; it was a glimmer of a thing really, a fleeting glance -- like the final twinkle of a Christmas light before the bulb completely burned out.

"Maybe just once or twice." Replied Doctor Black, moving to wash his hands at a nearby sink.

The harebabe nodded, his mother thanking the doctor and pulling him away with words of what a good boy he'd been and all that nuturing stuff. The doctor's cold gray eyes shifted to see the dark haremaid Lyrielle Nightfur watching him -- for what looked like the past five minutes. She put one ear at half mast, tilting her head quizzically as though to silently ask him what that had been about.
Azryel snorted.
"He asked me if it was okay to pick his nose sometimes."

[Cross]

"Dependson how you define 'alright' marm." Dally replied with a slight grunt to his voice.

Vicky tilted her head. "Is your definition of 'alright' different than mine?" she asked innocently. But it was easy to see the playful glimmer that flashed in her big eyes as the mousemaid fluffed his pillows. She could tell he was quite put off by the prospect of recovery. This was going to be a long week . . .

"Hey Vicky,"

The mousemaid, having been just about to speak to Lyra again, turned at the sound of her name. Oh, Lord Braythe! She chuckled softly and moved back to his bedside. "Yessir?" she replied softly, dainty paws clasped behind her back. Did he need something?

"Soo...uh..." He began awkwardly, moving himself into a sitting position, massive back and shoulders passing the headboard to press against the cool wall behind it. "Any...plans coming up?"

"Please be careful not to aggravate--plans?" Vicky was worried his sudden shift of position would vex his injuries. But his sudden interest in smalltalk had caught her off guard. "Uh, not that I know of . . . Why do you ask, sir?"

[Mista P]

The black haremaid glanced at Dallas obviously scowling upon the hospital bed, his navy eyes dark with dislike -- guess he wasn't feeling up for soft foods, huh? "I'm sure it won't be that long -- who knows, maybe it'll only be a few days of soft food?"

Dallas scoffed lightly to himself. A few days? Maybe. But a few days was just enough to mess with Dally's workout routine. He was going to have to do a lot of catching up after this. Thinking about his workout routine, Dallas suddenly froze. His scythes! Where were his scythes! Dally began looking frantically about. Where were they? If they were broken! NO! If they were stolen?!?! SOMEBEAST WAS GOING TO PAY!!!

"O-Oh we're fine, thank you Victiore."

"Is your definition of 'alright' different than mine?" she asked innocently.

Still looking about for his blades, Dallas shrugged, his tone a bit cool. "Normally is, wot.." He muttered as he lifted up the blankets. Nope. Not under there. Where were they!!

"He asked me if it was okay to pick his nose sometimes."

Even though Dallas was still searching angrily for his blades, he couldn't help but chuckle. Now that was the Dr. Black that Dallas didn't mind. When Dr. Black was sarcastic, that was funny! When he was stitching your mouth and restricting you to soft foods for a week, not so funny.

Looking up, Dallas looked over at Braythe who was conversing to the white mousemaid, oh was was her name, Vicky..something. Thinking out loud, Dally muttered in a low tone. "Calmer now wot," he smirked. "Probably doesn't remember much more of the sparring then I do. He'd better not have broken my scythes wot! Where are they?!?"

[Lyrielle]

"Calmer now wot," he smirked. "Probably doesn't remember much more of the sparring then I do. He'd better not have broken my scythes wot! Where are they?!?"

Lyrielle had been watching Dallas for a good five or ten minutes, not entirely sure what he was looking for -- probably checking to see if he still had most of his limbs after that fight with Braythe -- until he muttered something about his scythes. "Oh! You're looking for your scythes? I brought them here, one moment please." The petite haremaid slipped out of her chair and was reaching for something under the bed, a small noise of effort, followed by a cough from the dust she'd undoubtedly disturbed, and she was back up again, holding Dallas's weapons with a sheepish expression on her face.
"See? They're fine. I would've taken them to your room or something, but I don't know where that is."
That and she didn't have the guts to ask around, lest she make her crush on Dallas Devereux already a thousand times more obvious than it already was, or be questioned on why she had Dallas' scythes in the first place.

"Please be careful not to aggravate--plans?" Vicky was worried his sudden shift of position would vex his injuries. But his sudden interest in smalltalk had caught her off guard. "Uh, not that I know of . . . Why do you ask, sir?"

Braythe shrugged as though he were a dibbun who didn't quite know how to ask a question properly or express his feelings enough. "No reason. Just wonderin'." Okay things had suddenly gotten awkward... But still, he couldn't quite get rid of that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Trying again to strike up a conversation (he would normally do a lot of grumbling and growling and just general noises of displeasure, but Victiore was going out of her way to hang out with him), Braythe's eyes darted to Doctor Black and back to his little mouse friend.
"You fittin' in here okay? Doctor Freakshow ain't givin' ye anymore trouble?"

[Cross]

"No reason. Just wonderin'."

"Um," Vicky's smile faltered a little as she raised one eyebrow. "Okay, then, sir." She let out a quiet chuckle, wringing her dainty paws awkwardly. Her tail curled around her ankles as it often did when she didn't quite know what to do. Finally, Braythe spoke again.

"You fittin' in here okay? Doctor Freakshow ain't givin' ye anymore trouble?"

"Oh, I, uh," the tattooed mouse glanced warily at the hare doctor, still at a loss for how to reply. If she told Braythe she had received a thorough dressing-down from Black just this morning, the Badgerlord would go ballistic. As much as she disliked Black, she didn't want that to happen. So instead, she simply smiled again and shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine here, Lord Braythe. Th-thank you."

[Mista P]

"Oh! You're looking for your scythes? I brought them here, one moment please."

Dallas spun toward the Corporal, his face frozen in a mix of anger, confusion, and shock. SHE had his blades? What was SHE doing with his blades? Did she break them? Oh she better not have broken them! But why did she have them? Dally watched as the haremaid reached under the bed and pulled out his blades.

"See? They're fine. I would've taken them to your room or something, but I don't know where that is."

Taking his weapons from the Corporal gingerly, Dally ran his paws over his blades, inspecting them carefully. Okay, everything seemed to be okay. The blades were fine, a bit dusty from being under the bed, but they weren't broken. The did need a good sharpening after the intense battle, but they were fine. Resting his blades next to him on the bed within paws reach, Dally turned back to the haremaid.

She was still there...And it was slightly creeping Dallas out.

Clearing his throat with a wince, Dallas rested back into his bed. Now what...She was still here and he had nothing really to say. Dally was never one for small talk and this situation was getting rather awkward. He needed to say something, didn't he....What?...

Well, the Corporal was the Librarian or something like that, right? Maybe something about books?...

Dally exhaled deeply. "So...Corporal...Looks like I'll be in here a bit wot..Any books you might suggest?.." Dallas HATED small talk....

[Lyrielle]

"No, no, I'm fine here, Lord Braythe. Th-thank you."

Oh Good.
Having run out of things to talk about, unfortunately, Braythe was beyond his capacity for boredom, and scooted to the edge of the bed, the springs screaming in misery under his weight as he stood -- with a growl -- as a little bout of dizziness set in. Damn concussion. Glancing to his left, the Badger Lord locked eyes upon the forms of Lyrielle Nightfur and Dallas Devereux, his white brow furrowing in confusion. Who were they again? Oh right...The little dark one was the idiot who'd jumped in the middle of their fight...and the one in the hospital bed was the little blighter who'd split his lip! Braythe grinned, which caused him a great deal of pain -- enough to almost whimper, his eyes watering. Serves Corporal Devereux right! That's what he gets for kicking him in the face, the little snot.
"Let's get out 'ere Vicky, infirmaries smell funny and since my jaw's only a little sore, I might as well stop taking up bed space." Edging the mouse towards the door, he felt the eyes of Azryel Black upon him, that cold gray stare burrowing into the back of his neck.
"If you leave here, sir, without my permission, I'm going to have to stop giving you something for the pain."
The casual, robotic tone in which he said it made Braythe's fur stand on end -- not in fear, but in agitation, bronze eyes glaring at the dark-faced hare. "Yeah well, I don't need it! So keep your stupid medicine, I already have a healer anyway." Azryel looked to Victiore, whom Braythe was trying to herd out of the room. The doctor's expression did not change.
Oh yes. Because she has the gall to take medicine out of the infirmary just so that oaf can ease the pain a little. If he wants to make stupid decisions, he should suffer for them.

~*~

Dally exhaled deeply. "So...Corporal...Looks like I'll be in here a bit wot..Any books you might suggest?.." Dallas HATED small talk....

The black haremaid's ears stood up straight with interest, her violet eyes looking brighter than they'd been all morning. Books? he wanted to talk about books? Excellent! Hmmm, what kind of books would Corporal Devereux like? A book about strategy and fighting? No, that might make him feel bad that he can't get out training, unless of course it's the only kind of book he'll relate to, then should she bring him one anyway? Unless he's secretly one of those 'romantic' types, then she had tons of romantic adventure novels in the library he might like, but then again, wouldn't a comedy be good for someone who's ill? Unless Azryel wouldn't want him doing a lot of laughing, in case that caused internal bleeding or something...
Maybe he liked something about history or cooking?
Or maybe he's just trying to make small talk?
This last thought made her almost wince, but she recovered with a smile, delighted nonetheless that he was at least trying to talk to her. Scrunching up her newsboy cap in her paws, the haremaid piped up clearly; "Well, what kind of books do you like, Corporal? And you can just call me Lyra."
Can I just call you Dallas? Maybe?

((If anyone's wondering what Azryel's doing, he's probably off dissecting something to counterbalance the unbearable sappiness from Lyra and the awkwardness from Dallas. xP ))

[Cross]

"Let's get out 'ere Vicky, infirmaries smell funny and since my jaw's only a little sore, I might as well stop taking up bed space."

"But, sir, I don't think--" Vicky squeaked as she was herded--carried--towards the door. "Y-you shouldn't be moving s-so much, sir. You r-really need rest, and I--"

"If you leave here, sir, without my permission, I'm going to have to stop giving you something for the pain."

"Yeah well, I don't need it! So keep your stupid medicine, I already have a healer anyway."

Vicky let out a huff of exasperation. Autumn's Ghost, these two really shouldn't be allowed in the same room. "Lord Braythe, I don't really think I'm allowed to take medicine from the infirmary," she murmured once they were out in the hallway. "And I don't know if herbs by themselves would . . . would really make you feel better."

((Kinda short, sorry.))

[Mista P]

As Dallas settled back down, he watched Lord Braythe stand up from his cot. Although the badger was still conversing with the white mousemaid, Dally noticed that he glanced over toward Corporal Nightfur and himself. What was that? Did he try and grin?

Thinking back on the fight, Dally had to admit (but only to himself) that he did have a bit more respect for the badgerlord. Braythe had fought well, for the most part and Dallas enjoyed himself.

But only a bit...

Dallas smirked back at Braythe, and just because he could, he wiggled his jaw. It wasn't a big wiggle, but it was big enough that Braythe could see it. A playful taunt was really all it was. Dally as sure that he would get his hide tanned for it later, but Dally wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. Besides, Dallas was pretty sure that Lord Braythe the Savage didn't want it leaking out that he got kicked in the face by a Corporal.

Scrunching up her newsboy cap in her paws, the haremaid piped up clearly; "Well, what kind of books do you like, Corporal? And you can just call me Lyra."

Dally sighed gently as he looked up at the ceiling. What kind of books did he like? Well, he liked tactical manuals, strategic novels, weapon guides, or something with a bit adventure...but should he be reading any of that? He probably wasn't going to be able to train like he would want to for a day or two...Well, he did like history novels... And her name was Lyra? Right, he knew that from somewhere...

Twitching his ears, Dallas replied. "Well...Lyra. I like a good history novel every now and then. Has to have some decent action to it though." He turned his vision back to the haremaid. "Oh, and it's Dallas...Dally if it suits ye better wot..."

[Lyrielle]

"Lord Braythe, I don't really think I'm allowed to take medicine from the infirmary," she murmured once they were out in the hallway. "And I don't know if herbs by themselves would . . . would really make you feel better."

You know, sometimes Braythe was under the impression that Victiore didn't really understand the whole 'friendship' thing. You know, the rule that says you're supposed to back each other up no matter how stupid you're being? The white badger scowled at the floor, feeling Azryel's eyes still upon him, and by happenstance he glanced in Dallas' direction -- watching the cheeky hare give his jaw a wriggle and place a gleam in his eye. That little...grrr! Bronze eyes flashing, Braythe's upper lip-curled into a leer as he reached over, grabbed his pillow with one enormous paw, and chucked it at Dallas's face. "HA, how d'yeah like that, Corporal? Try wrigglin' yer jaw at me again, see what happens!" Taunted the Badger Lord.

Azryel stared at him.
The childishness of others never failed to utterly amaze him and insult his intelligence all at the same time. Braythe was older than he was, but acted 1/3rd of his actual age. Fabulous. Really. Let's entrust him with our lives and the lives of our families, and pray he doesn't throw them away like he does pillows.

Twitching his ears, Dallas replied. "Well...Lyra. I like a good history novel every now and then. Has to have some decent action to it though." He turned his vision back to the haremaid. "Oh, and it's Dallas...Dally if it suits ye better wot..."

Ah-ha! So I was right! She thought triumphantly, listening politely as he explained his literary preferences, but her heart gave a weird lurch when he gave her permission to call him Dallas or Dally. Lyra was going to look back on this later and realize how stupid she must've looked, but the infatuated haremaid smiled at him like a dibbun on Christmas morning -- that is, until something WHOOSHED! past her face, ruffling her cheek-fur to smack into Dallas with a lot more force than necessary. "What the? L-Lord Braythe?" She turned around on her stool to gawk at the Badgr Lord. Sheesh. She knew he was...competitive and couldn't take any sort of joking, but this was just-- absurd!

Azryel's eyes darkened as he glanced from Dallas to Braythe, stiffly moving to stand between them.
"I want everyone to be clear on something." He dictated coldly, his eyes on Braythe now. "If you start a fight in this infirmary, Your lordliness, Corporal, you won't like the consequences." That was one of the things Braythe found truly unsettling about Doctor Black. He never outright explained what he was going to do to them. Maybe he couldn't think of anything right now? Maybe it was too horrible for sensitive creatures like Vicky and Lyra to hear? Or maybe he was just bluffing?
Yeah, that was it. He must've been bluffing.