Of an Ankle Sprain, and a Conversation Twain. Featuring: Darklett, Rahier.

"Oh, but it hurts so bad, sah!"

"It can't be that bad; look, we're almost to the infirmary."

The two voices can be heard just outside the doorway before two bucks enter at the same time: Darklett walks into the room, hunched over to help out a younger hare, a recruit, walk into the infirmary. The recruit is actually just hopping on one footpaw, now, and through his white fur, hints of purple and yellow can be seen where his ankle is swollen.

Rahier watches the doorway, of course. It's not like you can miss the "ow, ow, ow"ness of the approaching noises of what is most certainly a hare with a boo-boo. "Why, what's this, eh?" he asks, rising to his feet from his rickety old chair. The major makes his way on over to the hopping pair and gestures to a cot. "'Ave a seat."

"It was terrible, sah!" the recruit relates to Rahier, with wide eyes, which have evidence of tears not too long before this.

"No, not really, it wasn't. He was boxing, and doing fine, too. Won his bout, pretty impressive," Darklett continues for the recruit, with a grin. "Unfortunately for him, he was a little too excited to remember how to -leave- the boxing ring..."

And the recruit interrupts, "And I fell! I fell to the ground, all the way! Twisted my ankle somethin' terrible, oh! I'll never walk again, lackaday!" Darklett looks at Rahier pleadingly at this point, however the lieutenant can't help but chuckle at the overreaction.

Hmm. Pleading and chuckling. What a feat. Well, Rahier snorts some, and waves a paw. ;p "Yeh, yeh, we'll fix y'up jus' fine, don' worry.." He toddles his way on over to the musty cupboard and thrusts it open, gathering up this and that.

Darklett rolls his eyes as the recruit continues to go on and on about his terrible predicament; luckily he's able to tune most of it out. "Oh, hush. You'll have much worse before your turn's up with the Patrol, believe me." This shuts the recruit up. For a second or two, anyway. "So, Rah, anything I can do to help speed up the process, here?"

Rahier hrmms in a most contemplative fashion, reaching up to paw around the top shelf, and then moving downward to shift some items around in the general chaos. "Someone really should organize this," he mumbles, mostly to himself. "Eh?" he answers, when addressed. "Uhm. Y'could fetch me m'stool, sure."

Darklett nods to the Major, and looks around for Rahier's stool, spotting it against the wall. Giving the blabbering recruit a glance as it looks very well like he might start crying again at any given moment, he shakes his head, briskly walking over to the wall and picking up the stool. "Put your leg up on the cot so the Major can have a look at it," he tells the recruit, who, through a couple of choked sobs, obeys.

Rahier ahhs, and finds the jar he's looking for, one with a vague scribble of a mark upon a yellowed label. "Been meanin' t'use this up." He holds it up to the light and looks through it doubtfully. Ah well. Gotta use up the old stuff. He shuts the cupboard. "Don' worry m'boy, y'll be on th'mend in no time flat."

Darklett sets the stool down by the bed, and stays standing next to it. "Need anything else, Rah?" the lieutenant asks, paws going behind his back as he eyes the discolored ankle. Bleech.

Rahier inspects the ankle, and shrugs. "Tisn't bad." He looks up to the squeamish Darklett and grins. Isn't he ever so helpful? "Why, sure. Y'could get me some o' that boilin' water in a cup," he says, gesturing at the fireplace. The healer whistles as he goes back to work, slathering some.. well, something onto the ankle. It may or may not be vaguely comforting.

Darklett tears his eyes away from the ankle to nod at the major, rather unceremoniously sitting down on and kicking his legs over the cot behind him to get a free lane to the pot of water that hung over the fire, nabbing a cup out of the cabinet on his way. Looking back and forth once he reaches the fireplace, he finds a ladle, grabbing a hold of it and dipping it into the pot, pouring the hot liquid into the cup, some of it splashing up onto the lieutenant, to the tune of an ow and a few curses. However, he does eventually return with it, grinning at Rahier. The recruit has decided to go silent now, as if he fears talking will cause him to break out into tears. XD

Aww. Poor widdle thing. Rah nods to Dark, taking the cup. "Thanks. Didn't scald y'self too bad, didja?" He grins, and takes a great helping of the mystery-jar leaves, crumbling them into the water. "This's th'good stuff," he explains, to the blubbery boxer, handing it over. "Drink up, now. Jus' ignore me." He turns to beginning to make some preliminary wrap of the poor ankle. "Honessly, Darky, I get more o' you boxing-types in here than anyone else."

Darklett was kinda hoping he didn't notice that whole boiling water accident. Oh, well. "No, not too bad," he murmurs, rolling his eyes skyward, then resting them on the recruit, who is looking at the concoction warily. He does finally take a gulp, swallow... Then it finally happens: He just starts weeping. Wincing, Darklett turns away from the cot, looking at Rahier. "At least he's training to be a runner, not a fighter," he mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Rahier reaches out to give the poor runner (apparently) a pat upon the shoulder. "Now, now, m'boy, don't fret. Be brave, eh?" He gives the lad's chin a tap. Stiff upper lip and all. "Shouldn't hurt at all, I think you'll see!" He has finished bundling the ankle by now. Should be quite healingly immobile.

The recruit sniffles, wiping away some tears, the sissy. "Mmkay, sah!" he manages to get out in a wavering voice, eyeing the bandaged footpaw. Darklett finally gathers up the constitution to turn and face the recruit. "There, gotcha all fixed up now. You'll be back to punchin' em out in no time, eh? And now, if you'll excuse me, Rah..." He steps backwards and salutes smartly. "I have to go have a word with the fighter this one beat. Tch."

Rahier beams as the waterworks cease. "Good, good, now, jus' have a bit o' rest, eh? Y've earned it." Bedside manner chief, y'know. He dusts his paws of bits of medicinal plant and tucks his supplies back away, before turning to return Darky's salute. "Alrigh'. Have a good one, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, you too, Rah." Darklett drops the salute and waves casually. "Don't overwork yourself, or anything like that." Chuckling, the lieutenant turns and heads for the exit, stepping out and heading down the stairs to give a stern lecture to a poor fighter recruit.