Okay. There's only so many times someone can get something wrong. In theory. Michael's beginning to suspect that he's only going to find his way back to the place where he was patched up by process of elimination. If he'd done it in any kind of order, that is. He shakes his head and is about to have a smoke in a doorway until something strikes him.
That door is the door he's been looking for. He laughs, glad of the fact he still can, even if it's at his own expense. A few minutes later, after a smoke to celebrate, he approaches the door to the, hopefully, right, apartment. Although, given the number of wrong turns, backtracks and mess ups getting back here he wouldn't be surprise if Claire had had time to move several times over by now. Putting the unfamiliar streets behing him he knocks and hopes that someone's in. The right someone'd help too.
*
It's the middle of the day, so any sane people would be awake, right? It's also not, generally, the time people come bleeding to Claire's doorstep. So, since she's not sane and not doctoring, it means she is, or was, actually asleep. But she sleeps the sleep of a nurse, ever slightly aware in the back of her brain. So, the knock at her door rouses her from bed with a few quiet curses. "COming! Coming…one minute…" Her half asleep voice calls out.
It's about just that before the sound of the latch can be heard opening and Claire pulls the door open to reveal herself. Bed mussed, her brown black hair everywhere, she's just wearing an oversized teeshirt and sweat pants which were hastily pulled on. Nothing else, as evidenced by the way certain parts of her rest beneath the thin shirt. She blinks, looking him over, trying not to look like she just woke up, "… Bleeding again?"
*
Holding his arms out and giving a small, slow twirl on the spot Michael says, "I'm a modern man, can listen and even be trained to perorm basic tasks. Kept the wound clean, didn't pick at it and even made sure I didn't go injuring myself." He's smiling, with a warmth that was reborn recently, and has had trouble stopping since. Although it falters a little when he notices her blink and the supperssion of speaking more states, less slang, drops too. "Ach, Christ. I knew you wanted me to check in and make sure I hadn't made it worse but I shouldae made sure I came at the right time. Sorry, if it's any bother I can go."
*
"No, no…I'm up. Come in. You actually followed directions. More than I can say for most. You've been spared my wrath for today." Claire teases throatily, the tone mostly deadpan but earnest. She motions him in from the hallway, waiting until he comes past the door before she shuts and secures the lock again. "I'll put on some coffee, we probably both need it." She then shuffles barefoot in the direction of her kitchen, the apartment the messy one of someone who is never home. "…Did you just come to show off?"
*
"Show off?" Michael says, then laughs softly, "I'd have tae have something to show off to do that. Just following course of treatment I was told to take. As, If I didn't, could have meant I'd need treatment for some boot like object being applied to somewhere sensitive to my anatomy. I'd guess. Anyway, sit yourself down there, I can make coffee. Please, allow me."
He gestures to the sofa, comfortable as he knows from experience, and moves towards the kitchen himself in anticipation of agreement to his offer. "Cannae hurt to not have to do everything for everyone else all the time." He adds by way of further encouragement.
*
The woman looks a hint skeptical at the offer of his making coffee. Claire was simply *used to* doing everything for everyone. Being the care giver was exactly how she earned her place in this world. Still, she's half asleep and he wasn't actively dying. "..Mmph…alright. Use four heaping scoops of the Cafe Bustelo with that pot." She finally instructs, padding over to the couch and sinking down to curl into the corner of it. If she was lucky, she wouldn't fall asleep right there. "…And…you really just came back to follow up? I…don't know what to do with a compliant patient. It's… strange." She clears her throat, calling behind her as she half watches him in the kitchen. "Did you find a place to live yet?"
*
Getting to work, Michael starts making coffee. He's not looking too much at what he's doing as, after improvising explosives whilst people were trying very hard to kill you, the chemistry of a good cup of coffee's not going to overstretch him too much. There's a slight shake of his head and a warm laugh from him before he says, "In the name of the wee man… it is a different kettle over here. Think of it like this. Back home more people are substitious as well as superstitious there. Like when people say, don't pick at it and it heal better, people believe that. So, when someone comes outae nowhere and helps you out, if they tell you to come back… I'll come back."
Finishing the coffee Michael brings it over and sits down next to Claire, presenting hers, and gives a slight nod in its direction "Hope that's good for you. I know it's one of those things that people like just so." Remembering the other question Michael nods and says, "Aye, as long as I don't mess it up, I've got a place to stay and maybe work to go with it. Staff for a foundation. It's setting out to help people who need it. So, fingers crossed it'll be a good thing." A further thought occurs and he adds, "Dinnae get me wrong, it's no exactly a chore coming by to see you. You've been nothing but good to me from me being a total stranger. I'd be daft, deaf, blind and dumb no to notice and appreciate it."
*
A drowsy smirk pulls at her full mouth as he comments about how she likes the coffee, "I'm sure it's fine. Anything is better than what they have at the hospital and I live off of that shit." Claire reaches one hand out, accepting the warm mug and shifting her legs down to tuck beneath her instead of be curled into her chest. She can nurse her cup of coffee in her lap this way instead of drinking around her kneecaps. She nods him into the other side of the couch, it really being the only other comfortable place to sit in the room. "Well…you are a gentleman. I am honestly happy to see you in one piece and to hear you're on your feet. Nice to get a happy ending, for once. But, really, you don't owe me a thing. You are breathing and thriving. That's all I wanted."
*
Putting his arm on the rest of the side he's sitting at, allowing him to angle a little so he can be talking to her instead of a point perpendicular to her Michael says, "Hope it's not as bad as the stuff we used to get back in the services. It was something… but I couldn't tell you even now what it was. Even what it was supposed to be. Could've even been the chicken soup…" He shudders for the briefest moment at the memory "… stuff was rotten." He the pauses, turns to look somewhere behind him then looks back to Claire.
"Gentleman? Me? I keep my manners, true, but I wouldn't put that about too much. No one'll know who you're talking about." His tone switches from casual and chatty to more serious, "It's not a happy ending. A good start, for sure, but it's a long road before I get anywhere with what I need to do." With the arm not resting on the rest but sitting by his side he waves the thought off, "You really don't need, at any time, me waxing about my troubles though. As for borrowing, lending and who owes who what… I'm more of a pay it forward as and when I got it."
*
The commentary about him benig more of a pay it forward person actually draws another, rather more earnest smile to her lips and a gentle tilt to her head, "Good. I can absolutely support paying it forward, Michael. And… trust me, compared to most in this city, much less this *area*, you are an absolute gentleman. It's been rather refreshing. I wish every patient was like you." She allows a slightly exhausted, soft laugh to escape her lips then, considering his words, "And no, I did not mean an…end for you, but probably an end of our relationship. I would much rather never see you on my couch again as it implies you have no where to live or are injured."
*
In a performance of mock surprise that certainly'll never get him a career as an actor on TV but does indicate the humor behind what he's saying Michael says, "End of our relationship? Courting does work different over here. I didnae even know we'd started!" He raises his hands up in a preemptive gesture of surrender, "Aye, okay, I was just kidding there, but I'll not end up wounded or wi'out a roof."
Resting his arms back down Michael adds, "But, seriously, anything you ever need, anything I can do, never any bother. Be happy to." He tries to process the idea again in his head. He's not arguing but it just seems odd the idea that he comes across as on of the gentry when he's always just seen himself as him. Putting that aside to play out later he then continues, "So, I've got a clean bill of health there? No a patient, just a visitor, kindae thing?"
*
The comment about courting actually gets a slightly surprised gaze from her. Double take. Then he laughs and says he was kidding. Claire is too tired to entirely hide the faint disappointment and hurt about that. Of course he was. Men like him didn't date brown girls like her. She gives him a game smile a few heartbeats later, "Kidding. Of course. Well, that's all I ask. Keep on this path, for yourself. And… I don't need anything. I've gotten very good at taking care of myself over the years. But the offer is kind of you. And… yes. You have a clean bill of health. Unless you'd like me to give you a physical? But…you don't appear to be bleeding and your breathing sounds far better…"
*
Regardless of how rusty he thinks he's become the reaction was read by Michael. "Ach, now, I didnae mean any offence there. It was just a bit of craic as, wi' all the ones you're already beating back with a stick, no doubt, you'd already have your pick to take, y'know?" Well, there you go, Michael thinks to himself. Managed to offend the lassie. Smart, skilled, and, well, if you're blessed with the gift of sight… it's obvious how good she looks and you hurt her with a rotten joke. Ya big choob that y'are.
The self scolding causes him to sigh, "Claire, really, I am sorry. Offer's always open still. Even if it's you get a chance for some play after the work and rest, fancy hearing a set where I can swing a drink or so on the house, anything. Anytime." Trying to rally Michael smiles again, only the tiniest bit less than before, he adds, "If you think I could do with a physical then, aye, just tell me where you want me."
*
A deeper smirk comes as he comments about her beating men back with a stick. Claire just half huskily chuckles, shaking her head to him, "…Trust me, I'm not beating anyone back with a stick. A brown woman who works over nights and lives in Hell's Kitchen? Who accepts random, bleeding strangers into her house on a routine basis and can't remember the last time she was home at a sane hour? I'm no one's pick, seriously." Claire doesn't sound too sad about this, just quitely accepting the fact that this is the way of reality. She shrugs and takes another, deeper sip of her coffee, curling back into the couch a bit tighter as the need for sleep almost is overpowering. But she's managing to stay awake.
Then he comments with the physical and her brows arched. He's the most compliant patient she's ever had. She laugh laughs and nods, setting her coffee down. "Fine, just stay right there… I'm not a doctor, but I can get some basics to make certain everything's doin' what it should." She unfolds from the couch and moves for her kit. "I'll need a sleeve rolled up and your shirt open. Or just off, if that's easier."
*
"Looks like some things don't change. People have the capacity to be…" The exact metaphorical description used is lost as Michael pauses to stand, take off his jacket and fold it neatly over the arm or the sofa. "… aye. You know what I mean. Dafties love boxes. Want to throw people in and make them wear the labels stamped on the box. Let the labels make others fit and sit somewhere below the pillocks… as addressing the fact they might just be a tosser's too much to take. Me? I'm an eejit. I cannae go boxes. I like to think I'm the good kindae eejit. Still. No my place to say about me."
Undoing one cuff on the simple black shirt, then the other he adds, "It's a way of the world that cannae be tol' otherwise. No one can say "I'm funny, this, that or the other." If you can't make someone else laugh, you're not funny. If you can engage the eye so someone cannae help but look… you're beautiful." Michael looks away from Claire while he works on the front buttons of the shirt and, once it's folded and joins the jacket, he sits back down his chest rising and falling in a silent chuckle, "Didn't mean to start havering at you there. This good?" He asks sitting arms loosely stretched out, hands palms up with his fingers in a relaxed spread.
*
Fortunately, she's busy opening up the basic nurse's kit that she has, so perhaps most of the blush on her cheeks is missed as he comments about her being beautiful. "I… I suppose. Don't generally think about myself… Like that. I'm just a nurse." Claire states simply, still not quite meeting his eyes. It was an oddly long time since a handsome man called her beautiful, especially in such an oddly elegant way. She then comes back to his side and nods in approval, "Yes, yes, that will work quite fine." And, of course, it's not his bare chest at all that makes her blush. This is just business, just work. His words are far more effective. She wraps a stethoscope around her neck and reaches for his wrist, looking down to her own watch so she can get a basic read of his pulse. "How have you been feeling, after everything?"
*
Claire has partially disconnected.
*
Michael remembers just in time not to open and close his hand as if one of the docs were finding a vein for the counteragent administered after one of those events that never happened, even unofficially, and, instead he relaxes and makes every effort to appear entirely unaware of the change in Claires complexion. Apart from a slight widening and raising of the line of his smile it's rather well hidden. "It's like they say, you have to know and get on with yourself. As you're stuck with you for a good wee while yet. You're more than "just a" any one thing though. Made sense of my wittering on and that's not easy."
He keeps his arm sitll whilst his pulse is taken and says, "Honestly, even with the fog in my head and a bit of feeling the effects of gigging, drinking, and not keeping up with the usual exercises I used to, I'm still feeling pretty good. Maybe the new places and new faces are doing me the power of good."
*
The woman gives an approving nod at his resting pulse rate, "Well, that's good." She reassures him, not responding about getting on with herself. Beauty and personal things are all put aside now, as she's in a working frame of mind. She slips the stethoscope into her ears and reaches the bell of it to his chest, listening quietly in more than one spot, mostly hovering on the left side. A small nod of approval and then she moves to his back and those lungs. That had been far more of a concern to her. "Take a few deep breaths for me?"
*
Claire has partially disconnected.
*
There are all sorts of different types of important and recognised medical professional. A patient has yet to be one of them. If they were Michael could be one of them. Having his breathing listened to is one of the easier ones. Wait for the cool stethoscope to be placed against the skin, breath in through the nose, slow and steady, then out through the mouth, again at a slow steady pace. Then the trick is to wait that briefest of moments to see if the scope's moved to a different site or another breath's needed from the same area. Even without speaking it's easy enough to establish a rhythm with the examiner.
*
The woman seems content with what she hears there too, "Lungs sound clear, thank goodness. That was my biggedt worry." Then she reaches for his arm, grabbing at the blood pressure cuff and wrapping it fairly tight around. She makes quick work of this last check, nodding in approval there too. "…Hale and hearty. You're actually probably one of the most healthy people I've examined in a long while. Congratulations. Just… keep it that way, alright?" She flashes him a half smile as she moves to put her tools away.
*
Michael can't help but grin. The verbal congratulations are good and all but that sudden smile certainly stirred a feeling of accomplishment in him. Slowly flexing his fingers after he was loosed from the cuff's grip, Michael says, "Stay healthy. You got it. Nothing to worry about, my best days of high risking life and limb are most likely in the past. In any case it's not like I toddle out and go looking for the first thing to injure myself on. Hard to believe, but, true."
He starts getting dressed again and between finishing buttoning his shirt and putting the jacket back on he adds, "Now, I know I'm not the quickest off the mark, to hear me tell it, but even I can a find a better reason to stop by and say hi as and when you get a wee bit of time off the clock that getting the stuffing beat outae me. Of course, that's if you wouldnae mind a caller cutting in on your downtime?"
*
The woman does seem to enjoy his conversation, but she also looks like she's falling dead asleep right now. She gives him a drowsed smile and nods gently, "You are welcome by any time. I wouldn't mind at all. But… I think my bed is calling again. I should get at least four hours sleep if I want to be functional. So, on your way. Clean bill of health and all." Claire gives him one last smile and escorts him to the door, a little wave following as he heads back down the hall and she locks it behind him.