1963-12-30 - Back to Work
Summary: Claire returns back to work, a small conversation with Wesley has Claire thinking.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
claire wesley 


It has been a few weeks since the incident that happened at the Clinic. Yet it was business as usual while Claire laid up in Metro, kind enough to not lord over her own care but already regretting being there due to the bills, added bills that would amount. Stitches? Possibly five hundred dollars a line. The use of the needle was a thousand. If one could change the medical profession, please start with the use of the items first. A butterfly bandaid which is possibly only five dollars per fifty in a box should not be three thousand dollars..

Carrying on.

But Claire was well enough, and she was released, her mind still slightly blown from that day within the clinic, hesitation in her bones as she finally enters into the door with a smile. The chair to the left was empty, Mabel passed away in the hospital. Claire was in a coma and couldn't attend the funeral. But she was there in spirit. She clears her throat and pushes on, calling a little girl into the back with her to generally check her vitals and ask what's wrong. She has a little cold. A slight fever. Lots of rest and asprin. A man sprung his wrist falling on the ice. A nice bandage and keep it elevated, try to learn to be left handed.. and so on.. and so on..

*

Wesley had checked in regularly in the hospital, but hadn't hovered. Claire seemed like the type that would resent being fussed over and Wesley could certainly understand that. Personally, he didn't mind a bit of cosseting, but he imagined that Claire had to work much harder to assert her independence.

He arrives with a small basket of fruit, setting it down on the front desk, his hands in his coat as he waits for her to finish with the patient she's dealing with.

*

"Two asprins, every six hours." She tells the man as they both emerge from the back, the man turning to shake her hand with his left, then ducking out the front door quick enough. There was no one else in attendance for now, for which Claire was thankful. And yet the sight of Wesley was a welcome thing that had her smiling enough to approach and wrap her arms around him whether desired or not.

"Back for only a few hours and you're already here." She teases. "You're not afraid, are you? That something bad will happen and you'll be stuck with me in the hospital." She presses a kiss against his cheek, stepping away to take an orange from the basket of fruit. With a lean upon the counter, she begins to peel it immediately. She was already hungry.

*

Wesley smiles and shakes his head, "What would I have to worry about? From what I hear, quite a few people were pretty upset with those punks for messing this place up and putting you in the hospital. More people around this neighborhood depend on you than you know," he says. He has a large cup of coffee, a second one set beside it for her if she has a craving.

"Plus, I'm sure I frightened a few people. Baleful stares. They might be afraid I might get them with my aggressive accounting," he says mildly. Of course, Wesley was dangerous in his own way, although most people wouldn't know.

*

"It's put back together nicely, though." Claire murmurs, glancing around the office to see not a speck or a spot out of place. "There were still volunteers moving in and out, helping people, which was my goal to begin with." The cup of coffee was noticed, but she doesn't partake now, she was focusing upon the orange in her hand in which she eats with gusto.

Right when she was about to reach for the cup, her hand slams upon the counter as her head lowers, her shoulders bobbing in a slight laugh that she tries to keep quiet. Though parts of her still hurt, she laughs either way. No sense in holding it together when everyone was out of the place to begin with. "Come on, lets go sit." She finally says, moving towards the waiting room with food and drink in her hand, settling for the larger sofa there.

*

Wesley takes a moment to remove his coat and jacket, hanging them up neatly before he goes to take a seat on the sofa next to her. No sense ruining the line of his jacket, after all, while he relaxed. He settles in carefully and takes another sip of his coffee before setting it aside.

"So, what percentage of you is actually okay and what percentage is faking it so that you can get back to work without people like me pestering you about it?" he asks.

*

Claire gives Wesley a critical look. "Ninety-Ten." The orange was done, the coffee highly favored now, which was blown first, and sipped last. "But people like you don't pester. You'll say something long winded and elaborate, to the point where I'm rolling my eyes and have to kiss and possibly have sex with you to get you to shut up." She grins then, settling upon the sofa at an angle, her legs shaking as she focuses at getting her shoes off so that she could curl up upon the couch. Thank goodness it was a very, very slow day.

"I don't.. know if you like mixing business with pleasure, but.. I need to see your boss."

*

Wesley smirks, "That's not exactly discouraging me to keep myself brief. If anything, I feel a rather sudden and undeniable urge to wax poetic in long and rambling phrasing, all the better to be hushed. That door over there does lock, after all," he teases.

To the last, though, his eyes flick away for a moment, almost like a switch has been pulled. "To what would he owe the pleasure of your attention?" he asks simply.

*

"You would if you knew how my back hurts, and I'd possibly be unable to sustain myself as I usually would. Starfish. You'd be bored." She doesn't lift her feet to place them into his lap as she usually would, that would just be pure manipulation. He could see through it either way, so even attempting to do it would be futile.

"The task force. The specialized task force. I know that I don't have much in the way of that, and I'm only human. But I'll be seeing these people daily. On the street, if they come here.. in the hospitals. I at least would like him to reconsider.." She purses her lips, her fingers dragging through her hair, idly thumbing the stitches that still remain upon the back of her head. "It's a horrible thought…"

*

Wesley considers for a moment, "I can express your concerns. You should know that he's fairly convinced it's the right course of action. He's not happy about it and knows there will likely be some negative side effects - but he feels the greater good will be served," he says. Wesley tends to stay neutral on such matters, offering only practical advice. Fisk is the one who's the believer in saving the neighborhood - Wesley just wants to make sure the profit margins stay reasonable.

"As with most things, it's largely a matter of execution, I think. It can be a thing done well or a thing done poorly."

*

"I'm well aware, mostly due to the press releases." Claire seemed a little bit annoyed, if not worried, but she tries her best to not let it show. "And you'll be there to make sure that it's executed right, yes?" Her foot strikes out, lightly pressing against his thigh in a half-weak kneading, before she withdraws.

*

Wesley leans his head against his hand, "Insofar as he's liable to listen to me. I'm a consultant, I provide advice, but the decisions are largely not mine to make. This, in particular, has been one of his pet projects. My involvement has been limited, although I did play a part in the press releases," he says with a wry smile. "But Mr. Fisk is rather insistent on things being done right. He has a low tolerance for incompetence, in my experience."

*

"It often makes me wonder what else you play a part in." Even though Claire's words were nothing but a joke, she does recall what happened with the mutants that were here. At least up until the last moment.. there was no word about it in the papers. And everything seemed.. pristine. How? She had her suspicions, but she wouldn't outright voice them. Some accountant..

"I want to see a movie tonight. What are your plans?"

*

Wesley considers, "For the evening? I was hoping to take you to a movie. Bon chance, eh?" he says. "I thought we might have dinner at Chez Grigio first. Their new chef supposedly has completely redefined the menu," he says. "I'm curious to see if it's up to the old standard."

*

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License