driftfleet | [Closed] no this will be fine

Here's what happens — from the top, now. Max is just no good at asking for help, that much is true, but his fractured tooth is... well, it's damn painful. He had attempted his best to ignore it for a while now, but it's just gotten him more and more to complain about. Something none of his shipmates want and need. Furiosa and Peggy had at least nudged him in the direction of help.

But it's something Max isn't exactly fond of. For many reasons.

So when he finally does ask for help — ask for Furiosa to be there (just in case, always just in case, because at least she's a familiar and welcomed face) — he's sitting in wait for the actual work to be done, fidgeting like a kid at a doctor's office. If there's one thing to send him into anxious fidgets, it's the prospect of someone touching him. In any capacity.

But his tooth is throbbing now, a fiercely unwelcomed sensation that makes him want to grit his teeth. Only he can't, because the pain will increase tenfold, and then he'll really have something to curse about. His eyes keep drifting toward whatever horrible torture devices sit in the place, and he grumbles under his breath. This is terrible. Why do people subject themselves to this? He should leave.

That's what he thinks a good dozen times, in a relatively short timespan.

"Leave. Get out. You can still go."

It takes him a minute to recognize the stranger talking in his head is actually him.

But — he could do this. He could do this. Block it out. When the tooth's gone, his head will be quieter. The pain won't bleed out the coppery tang of his usual ghosts, his dizzying spectators in his daily isolations. Get the tooth out, the pain isn't a problem, can sit through it and pretend he's somewhere else. Yeah. Somewhere else. Nice, sunny place, dry but not too dry, maybe a rocky cliff perfect for camping, where there's clean air for a few hours and not a soul out to try to pick off him. Yes.

That's not a bad place to be.

Mmhmmmm.

(... Furiosa save me from this hell.)

Furiosa will save him by means of making sure Max actually goes through with it. She's mildly surprised and impressed he's come this far at all - not that any of it shows on her brilliant poker face. She's standing off to the side, within Max's sight line, out of Beverly's way mostly but within striking distance if the worst happens.

Which she's almost banking on. She knows Max, she's seen him muzzled. She knows the desperate things people do when they're in pain, when that pain is beyond normal levels (and let's be honest; normal levels for a wastelander are pretty damned high to begin with). She expects of its come to Max seeking help, it's gotten past those levels.

She glanced over at Ino and Beverly. She'd been helping on the Iskaulit gardens enough to be know them, but trust hadn't quite extended this far yet. Max was ... Well he wasn't hers like the Warboy, or the protection she'd come to feel for the Wives, but he was certainly one of Her People now and that came with its own benefits, such as eternal guard dog. Ino, in this situation, was an unknown variant. Beverly, well. She definitely threw off a different air than the organ mechanic Furiosa had known.

As for Beverly, she's calm, collected, and professional as she goes about preparing for the extraction. While tooth extraction is a rare procedure in her world, she's done a hundred more surgeries more complicated and life-threatening than this. Max is in good hands, though she can tell he's apprehensive about the whole thing. Twitchy. It's isn't anything she hasn't seen before. Lots of people are nervous around doctors. Still, she knows next to nothing about his world or his life, so she's very glad Furiosa is here to provide support for him.

Beverly lays out her tools on a tray: medication, needles for injecting said medication (what she wouldn't do for a hypospray!), tooth extracting forceps, gauze, and of course, her tricorder. She rolls the tray over to the exam table where Max is sitting, then switches on the overhead light. When she speaks, her tone is as soothing as she can make it, soft and gentle. "All right, Max? I'm going to need you to lie down for me, okay?"

Meanwhile, Ino is just marveling over the fact that Furiosa and Max know each other. The more she thinks about it, the more it makes sense -- they're both definitely from a do-or-die kind of place, both very intense and survivalist. Though Furiosa at least has a little more social skill than Max. But it sure is a small world here in space.

She's just standing off to the side with Furiosa for now, out of the way but not too far, just in case. The look she's got on her face as Beverly talks him through the process can best be described as dubious -- not because she doubts that Beverly knows what she's doing, of course, but because she isn't sure exactly how Max will take that kind of tone. She's been around too many big guys like him who are so used to being alone and untouched -- it's left her with the impression that being so gentle and sweet will only make him nervous or irritable. She can only imagine trying to shove Guts into a chair like this ...

Though, really, if she's being honest, she's done her best to be reassuring to Max as well, so maybe she's been just as bad. And hey, maybe if this goes well she can throw in a hint hint wink wink nudge nudge about his knee, too -- but considering how difficult it was to get him into the chair for this in the first place ... Well, she's skeptical. But hoping for the best.

Max's eyes widen slightly and he glances warily over to Furiosa — had she told them his name? He'd been fairly quiet on the topic, hated the sound of it really, because it meant attachments, a way for someone to remember him with a name. Such a simple one, but hard for him to stomach hearing anymore. Ghosts usually did it for him. He shifts awkwardly and nods; he's not going to reply in some harsh tone about her saying it, not when he's about to be under the care of her... doctor devices...

He glances at the tray, looking like a homeless mutt cautious of a human calling, but inevitably he sighs through his nose and lays back. And if his hands are gripping the chair's arm rests a bit more firmly, it goes unspoken. Just like it goes unspoken that his heart is pitter-pattering quickly in his chest. It's almost shameful, if he thinks about it too much. He's old enough to not do this. To focus. He's not sure how old he is, mind, but he knows that it's all something in his head.

He squints up into the bright lights, pupils pinpricks.

Max... someone says, a whisper so hushed it sounds almost devilish.

He ignores it, grunts.

"Alright."

It's about all he can get out right now. He breathes in deep, exhales.

Calm. Relaxed. Yeah. Calm. Furiosa's here. There's no reason to worry. These people are helping, he reminds himself. Everyone is helping him with the pain in his jaw. Not a typical organ mechanic. This Fleet is not like home, he repeats. Not like home at all.

She returns his look with a miniscule shake of her head. Not her fault. ~~Although she did once use his name talking with Peggy, so in reality she's just as guilty.~~ But she's not letting him know that now; right now he needs as many reassurances as she can get, and if downplaying the fact that his name isn't a surprise is part of it, that's what she'll have to do.

"The ... doctors, in our world, were much more concerned with the state of their property than the comfort of it." A simple explanation to Beverly, partially to break the silence. It's different, and it's awkward, and while she does have a greater ability to deal with people than Max, seeing him on the chair like this leaves her unsettled with thoughts back to her own related demons. She leans back against the counter, casually, but there's a certain tension in her jaw - though not uncomfortable to Max's extent, she's clearly out of her element as well. She makes a side glance at Ino to see how the other woman is taking it. Would she know how to handle a wild wastelander, if it came to that?

"Property?" Beverly shoots a wide-eyed alarmed look first at Furiosa, then back at Max. What the hell kind of doctors view patients as property? No wonder they're both so uneasy (Because despite Furiosa's casual posture, Beverly recognizes the tension in her jaw - it's the same look Beverly herself gets when stressed). Perhaps her usual tactics to put people at ease won't work for Max. As she addresses him again, her voice remains soft, but there's more of a direct authoritativeness to it now, less of the soothing caretaker. A voice with which Worf would be very familiar.

"You are not my property. You are my patient, and it is my job to heal you. I don't expect anything in return for that. If you think it will help, I can explain everything I'm going to do first, so you know what to expect. Or if you want to just go ahead and get it over with, we can do that as well. Whatever makes it easiest for you. I am here to help."

Ino also turns to look at Furiosa in surprise for a moment, but she's less horrified than Beverly. Mostly because she expected there to be a reason for his wariness, and hey -- that's a pretty good one. Instead of expressing any shock or horror at Furiosa's statement out loud, she just looks over at Max, worry and sympathy in her eyes. She's all too familiar with the type of guy who can't and won't slow down in order to survive ... and the difficulties that brings when they're brought to a place like this, where there's nowhere to run and nothing much to run from. She's prepared to handle things if they get ugly, despite her small stature, but she's hoping it won't come to that.

"This isn't that place," she says finally, decisive and confident. "It won't be like that anymore."

Not while I'm around, anyways.

Max would roll his eyes at Ino's words any other day — because this place'll probably turn, go bad, one way or another. Everywhere does. Just a matter of time, really. But he is too busy feeling that same cold anxiety that sinks its claws into the pit of his stomach to the point of pain. He shakes his head, trying to harden his stare. With some success.

"You'll numb it and pull it. Right?" He grips the armrests again. "Just do it."

Not a barked order, but an answer, a go-ahead.

Because he doesn't want to wait. He wants to hurry and get this over with. Property, not property, it all hurts either way — all uncomfortable, whether you're numbed or your nerves are screaming front and center. He doesn't look at the tools anymore, but figures looking at the ceiling is a better idea. He feels like something is crawling over his skin at the thought of having to sit for too long. The tooth's a mess; could take more than just a three-two-pull. He knows this.

He breathes in again, closes his eyes. The stern voice helps a little. S'grounding.

Furiosa looks at Beverly and Ino as they shoot her glances, only shrugging in response. It wasn't quite the case here, but it was a fact of life for her and Max. The change at the Citadel was too new, too unsettled for her to really bank on it making a quick and easy transition.

She doesn't think on it too deeply now, however, focusing again on Max. She listens to Beverly, a little pleasantly surprised by her firmer tone. Smart woman. Seeing Max close his eyes, she relaxes slightly; the sooner they get this started, the sooner it's over with.

Beverly gives Max a curt nod before closes his eyes, then flips open the tricorder in order to scan him. The scan doesn't take even a minute and it's as she feared: the tooth is infected. Periodontitis. Fortunately, it's not a sign of more systemic problems elsewhere in his body. Once the tooth is removed, some antibiotics should take care of the rest - and regular brushing, though how successful she'll be at getting him to do that remains to be seen.

For now, they need to get that tooth out of there. She prepares the needle with the numbing agent, then without further ado, injects the area around the tooth with a quick precision.

"It'll take a minute for the anesthetic to set in. Tell me when your jaw starts feeling numb."

Well, whatever part of what was said seemed to have worked, so ... that's a relief. She doesn't blame them for not necessarily believing fully, but if he doesn't get the tooth taken care of it could cause so much worse. So.

For now, Ino will just be standing by silently again, waiting and hoping this will get taken care of swiftly and without much issue.

Numb? He looks looks quizzically at her. He knows what a numb sensation feels like, but it's still funny to him, that this place has such easy resources, that just a jab with a needle can take the pain entirely. Is there such a thing as numb enough? Because once the pain begins to dull he nods his head. "Think it's good."

It's not fully numb, but, you know. Pain tolerance. It's a magnificent thing. One small mercy of Wastelanding -- you can handle it better. But there lies a double-edged sword: the same world that gave him a tolerance is the same world that hurt him, in more ways than one. It's why, when Beverly does finally pick up the tools needed to pry up the tooth, he squeezes the armrest again. It seems to be one of the few ways to observe his discomfort levels, other than the wrinkles on his brow and the glassy distance that sometimes touches his eyes.

As she moves in, he flinches hard -- but he just closes his eyes, scrunches them, his every demand for action forced back with a charged mental no. He can do it. He's fine. He's had so much worse, and he's walked out of it intact. A reminder: she's helping, she's helping, she's helping, what would she benefit from not helping? Furiosa's right there. Ino's reliable, she gave him medicines. He glances at her, glances at Furiosa, looks at the lights. His stomach feels like lead, sinking heavily into his spine.

There is some pain -- Max is apparently one who needs more than a single shot -- but if he's in pain he doesn't show it. It's tolerable, very tolerable. The pressure is more intimidating than anything. But even as he tastes blood and she works, he is still, waiting.

Furiosa can see the telling signs of tension. They're not exactly subtle; she's pretty sure the others should be able to pick up on the way he grips the armrests as well. She tries to give him an encouraging look back; still casual though tense, she doesn't want to give him anything to worry about. The waiting is the worst part.

As she picks up the forceps, the tension becomes palpable. Beverly wishes she knew the best way to put Max at ease, but she rather suspects it'd take more than one dentistry session to achieve that. All she can really do at this point is make it as quick and painless as possible.

Hopefully he's not lying about the anesthetic setting in.

The tooth is, as he told her earlier, broken, so it will have pulled out in a couple of pieces. The first comes out easily enough but after that, she really has to pry at it. Blood is inevitable, as is the pressure, which is slowly increasing...

Edited 2016-03-20 02:19 (UTC)

Max is calm. His eyelids twitch, but he's calm. He's —

"Give our Spricket a pretty mediocre death, huh?!"
"He's a thrasher, hold him still--"
"Hold 'em down, hold 'em down!"
"He tore my bleedin' finger off--!!"
"Sure is, innit?"
"Get the muzzle, mate."

The pressure, it isn't so bad until the voices hit him, and then the smells -- the dampness, the rot of the Warboys, the scent of the cavernous walls they've made home. They pin him again, this time with a muzzle -- he feels the cold steel pressing against his lips, against teeth. Someone kicks him. Someone jerks his head down nearly between his knees. He feels the heat of fire, and then --

Then the skull brand is shoved against his exposed neck, hissing as it ruins the skin there.

Max's eyes snap open, pupils small, dots, tunnel vision seeing something that's not there. There's almost no warning, considering he'd been squirming as it was. He just jackknives forward with a gasp of air, the motion flinging the forceps and blood as he swings a sharp, fast, frantic right hook --

He feels the knuckle strike skin, glance off the bone beneath it. Blood fills his mouth, drips down his chin as he jumps to try and leave the chair.

"Let go--!" is his cry, despite nothing holding him.

Edited 2016-03-21 01:17 (UTC)

It's too fast - snake strike fast. Furiosa is not able to save Beverly from the first punch, but she's immediately in motion; springing forward and shoving Beverly out of the way (if she's not already reeling), in order to pin Max back against the chair with her scrap metal prosthetic. She finds herself missing her original prosthetic, the one she sacrificed to take out Immortan Joe. An extra dose of power would have been nice right about now. Instead she tries to leverage her body against him, bracing her arm across his chest.

She shoots a look to Ino to see what support she gets. If Max can shake off a handful of Warboys, she's definitely going to need a hand.

Edited 2016-03-21 04:44 (UTC)

Beverly does reel back, stumbling out of her chair with a sharp gasp and a curse. Her hand clutches at her face in pain. Thank god he missed her jaw or there might be two of them needing dental work, but the area around her eye hurts like hell. However, forcing herself to pull her hand away, she finds that at least there is no blood. Good enough for now. She'll worry about herself later. They are going to have a bigger problem on their hands, if they can't calm Max down.

While Furiosa and Ino wrestle with him, she begins to prepare a sedative, ignoring the throbbing pain and the fact that she can only effectively see out of one eye at the moment, as the other is watering and trying to swell shut. He's so agitated that intravenous or oral seditation is going to be next to impossible, so her only option, without a hypospray, is intramuscular, which also has the benefit of getting the sedative through him more quickly. 3mg of midazolam to start, see if that holds. The less medication she has to administer, the better.

Needle loaded, she looks back up at Ino and Furiosa. "I need you to hold his legs down for me."

When Max's fist begins to swing, she's already darting forward to stop it, missing just in time for Beverly to get knocked in the face.

"Shit --"

She moves to help Furiosa keep him down, contact with his body minimal -- just one gentle hand wherever needed. But that one hand seems to hold a bizarre reservoir of strength that hardly matches up to her exterior, and they should be able to keep him mostly at bay even if he continues to struggle and flail around.

"Hey -- come on. You're going to be okay."

She's trying to reach Max, because she's quite sure he wouldn't have hit Beverly unless he was having some type of traumatic episode. She has to wonder how many times he's been held down like this by the type of doctor that Furiosa described.

And that's when Beverly approaches from behind with the needle. Oh. She's going to sedate him.

"Wait -- what?"

She looks a little unsure. She's not surprised that this seems to be the ideal solution, but ... is her coming closer with that thing going to make this worse? She looks back to Max to see if he's seen it, to Furiosa to see if she thinks it's the only way. She's pretty used to being able to talk somebody out of something like this, but she'll defer to Furiosa if she believes him unable to calm down otherwise.

Max doesn't see the needle. Actually, he doesn't see much of anything that would constitute as real. Furiosa and Ino and Beverly's faces all swirl into pale expressions — for the moment, he can't see the reality of the situation, so he fights back against whatever's holding him, pinning him. They're trying to keep him still, gonna tie his hands and legs and shove him in the cage. He snarls, snaps his teeth at whoever is closest, kicking his legs whenever he has an opportunity. A feral, for a moment, lost in his panic.

don't touch me, leave me alone, let me go

It's the Wastelands. You can't afford to stop fighting. He scratches with his hands, paws, swings. Furiosa's a strong pressure on his chest, holding him firm. He can feel something warm grip his wrist tightly. Something of a strangled whimper forces its way out from behind his clenched and bloody teeth, the panic lighting his eyes. Nobody's going to save him. He has to save himself. It's how it's always been. He remembers. He knows better.

let go

"Do it." Furiosa snarls back at Beverly, taking a brief moment to look back and see the sedative, and then shoot Ino a irritated look because really, just his wrist? She struggles to hold Max down, swearing she could smell the girt and feel the heat of their first real engagement.

Then Max is snapping at her face, and there's heat and blood and the stench of infection. She snaps her head forward, slamming her forehead against his in an attempt to disorient him enough for Beverly to work. She figures he'll understand once the dust settles.

Edited 2016-03-24 20:03 (UTC)

The headbutt startles Beverly, but only for a moment. She has a job to do. Deftly, she slices open a section of pant leg, just enough to quickly inject the sedative in his thigh.

"Don't let go yet. It'll take a minute for the sedative to take effect."

Once she safely disposes of the needle and gloves, she rejoins them to do her part in restraining him until the medication kicks in.

[Closed] no this will be fine

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