“Yeah, well… okay,” she said, nonplussed, not sure if she should be flattered. It was such a surprise, Nina blinked in confusion.
She realized that she didn’t like the look on Soren’s face, and it wasn’t for the reasons she had expected. He sure was tall, with a slender face and disturbing eyes. The man with the slender face had leaned close to Nina, and she shrank back because she didn’t like to feel his breath on her face, or he was able to smell her smokes, and that bothered her immensely, of course. She could taste the sour saliva in her mouth.
In truth, she was startled at the way Soren acted. He was being cooperative. She didn’t expect him to give her permission to help; let alone bum a smoke.
But here he was—showing her his arm.
She nodded, and reached for his hand, deftly rolling his sleeve up, looking over the enigmatic runes of his tattoos. A look of puzzlement crossed her face when she rinsed off the blood off his hand and revealed the knotted scar tissue underneath, as though it were branded.
She didn’t comment.
She breathed a sort of sigh, and then taped a small swab dressing around his hand. The blood stained hers, of course. Her hands were badged with his blood. She would have to wash them diligently. She wanted, more than anything else, for there to be her tray of instruments to use, a pair of surgical gloves she could pull on...
Fixing his hand was a start, but it didn’t seem to achieve much. Nina didn’t know what she expected to happen. A “thank you”, perhaps. A smile.
Such a thing didn’t seem very likely.
Not after he wished her away. Soren himself had been brutally matter-of-fact about it from the outset. She knew nothing of Soren’s background or past career, but the same was clearly not true in reverse. Soren had casually reeled off a load of crap that was true about her, like Nina being redundant; her sharp use of both eyes; her smoke scent. And he’d spoken with what seemed genuine disdain.
Furthermore, the candid honesty of his responses struck Nina. For the first time, she felt something other than her sense of duty towards Soren. To be part of the Guardian was to be part of a complex system of obedience, loyalty and service. More often than not, the hospital forced doctors into obligations and decisions they’d otherwise not choose to make. She’d seen that happen. She didn’t care who shouted her down, Nina had butted up against the system all her career. Was she now seeing that mirrored in another? Or was Soren just dangerously persuasive?
The latter notion seemed likely. He certainly exuded a sort of authority. And he seemed to have rudeness in spades. To say the right thing at the right time for the right effect. Was he just playing with Nina?
Nina thought about it. She was scheduled for another shift at six that evening. She wasn’t looking forward to it. It felt like running away. She tried to decide on the best course of action.
Nina rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Then she said, “the thing is, I’m not sure you can smoke right now. It’s serious anti-breathing stuff."
She looked up at Soren and appraised him frankly. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re very pale, sir. Should you even be on your feet?"
She realized that she didn’t like the look on Soren’s face, and it wasn’t for the reasons she had expected. He sure was tall, with a slender face and disturbing eyes. The man with the slender face had leaned close to Nina, and she shrank back because she didn’t like to feel his breath on her face, or he was able to smell her smokes, and that bothered her immensely, of course. She could taste the sour saliva in her mouth.
In truth, she was startled at the way Soren acted. He was being cooperative. She didn’t expect him to give her permission to help; let alone bum a smoke.
But here he was—showing her his arm.
She nodded, and reached for his hand, deftly rolling his sleeve up, looking over the enigmatic runes of his tattoos. A look of puzzlement crossed her face when she rinsed off the blood off his hand and revealed the knotted scar tissue underneath, as though it were branded.
She didn’t comment.
She breathed a sort of sigh, and then taped a small swab dressing around his hand. The blood stained hers, of course. Her hands were badged with his blood. She would have to wash them diligently. She wanted, more than anything else, for there to be her tray of instruments to use, a pair of surgical gloves she could pull on...
Fixing his hand was a start, but it didn’t seem to achieve much. Nina didn’t know what she expected to happen. A “thank you”, perhaps. A smile.
Such a thing didn’t seem very likely.
Not after he wished her away. Soren himself had been brutally matter-of-fact about it from the outset. She knew nothing of Soren’s background or past career, but the same was clearly not true in reverse. Soren had casually reeled off a load of crap that was true about her, like Nina being redundant; her sharp use of both eyes; her smoke scent. And he’d spoken with what seemed genuine disdain.
Furthermore, the candid honesty of his responses struck Nina. For the first time, she felt something other than her sense of duty towards Soren. To be part of the Guardian was to be part of a complex system of obedience, loyalty and service. More often than not, the hospital forced doctors into obligations and decisions they’d otherwise not choose to make. She’d seen that happen. She didn’t care who shouted her down, Nina had butted up against the system all her career. Was she now seeing that mirrored in another? Or was Soren just dangerously persuasive?
The latter notion seemed likely. He certainly exuded a sort of authority. And he seemed to have rudeness in spades. To say the right thing at the right time for the right effect. Was he just playing with Nina?
Nina thought about it. She was scheduled for another shift at six that evening. She wasn’t looking forward to it. It felt like running away. She tried to decide on the best course of action.
Nina rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Then she said, “the thing is, I’m not sure you can smoke right now. It’s serious anti-breathing stuff."
She looked up at Soren and appraised him frankly. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re very pale, sir. Should you even be on your feet?"
Nina