Post-Zombies, Post-Bones

[souffle_girlek]

Oswin didn't get far once she and Autor returned to the bar - the doctor she'd seen before had spotted her almost before she could properly get into the infirmary. His plaintive grousing about how he'd just set everything to rights, couldn't she stay uninjured for just a little while, just for him is very distracting - the upper registers of her hearing return almost before she can set herself up to be properly worried about the exam.

The concussion, on the other hand, earns her a stay overnight, and no amount of pleading or nerves will get her out of it. He gives her an option - she can have pain medication and can sleep on her own terms in a quiet section of the infirmary, or he can sedate her now and keep her under constant machine surveillance. Either way, unconsciousness and staying in the infirmary are things that are going to happen here.

She chooses option 'a', after asking one of the rats to leave a note with Bar for anyone who might be looking for her.

So now Oswin (having commandeered a fair number of blankets) is making a somewhat half-assed attempt at reading to pass the time. Mostly she's staring at her book (Pride and Prejudice, if there was ever a time for Fitzwilliam Darcy, this is it), and occasionally making it far enough to turn a page.

Comments

[hasthehighground]

Clara said something about the Wi-Fi hijacking people's brains, because people's brains are computers.

"Okay," he says, instead. "If you want me to, I can ask McCoy in the morning. He'll remember you, at least, and he might have video. If that'd make you feel better."

[souffle_girlek]

She nods, relief loosening the tension in her shoulders. Video would be best, of course (video from her own bots would be amazing, but none of them are up and running, except Autor's, which is probably filming the inside of a sock drawer) - any body horror she might have felt when watching something like that doesn't even compare to the reasons she very purposefully doesn't think about what happened when the Daleks caught her. Either way though, someone remembers. Someone real.

Even if he is a doctor.

"It would, yes. I didn't think of that." She remembers getting lectured for the hearing loss, but the memory is disjointed. Still, he was there.

[hasthehighground]

"Well," Clint says, "you did just hit your head."

He presses a light kiss into her hair, and brings his arm back from over her shoulder. "I can stay, if you want," he tells her, "but if you're going to get any sleep, I should get back to my chair."

[souffle_girlek]

She groans at him, because sleeping is boring and she is so very over this room, and he's entirely right.

Bother.

"Well, I mean, if you don't have anything... that is, I don't want to..." There's no way to finish that sentence without sounding even more incredibly needy than she already is, so... she just stops trying to dance around it.

"Please stay."

Blink.

"But you can totally have the chair, the chair is fine, the chair is good, fantastic chair."

Blink.

Stars, just mute her now.

[hasthehighground]

Clint does her the courtesy of not responding to her babble as he slides off the bed, but the look on his face when he turns to sit is distinctly amused. (He appreciates it, though. It's amazing how many people will take their right to his time as a given.)

"I'll be fine; I've kept watch in less comfortable places."

And with less entertainment. He's pulling out his MP3 player, where he has recording of some Louis L'amour books. All that he'd brought for her was a Walkman with a CD from the Bar with Pride & Prejudice on it. It's the only book he remembered her mentioning, and it's kind of funny to him that she already had it.

"Get some sleep, Oswin."