to cold climes comes springtime — open & closed

[pacificator]

Who: Wynonna Earp & others
What: May–June catchall
When: May through June
Where: Milton, Lakeside

Content Warnings: Usual Wynonna warnings including themes of alcohol & violence; others marked as needed.

open & closed starters posted here throughout May & June! pwm @ repeatandfade

Comments

[homeostatic]

( He 'mhmm's where appropriate, the intent look he wears gathering a more purposeful mien, the crystallization of a plan of action. )

Yeah, ( and it sounds like he might agree with her, 'aw shucks', but he just smiles, equally saccharine-sweet, ) I don't believe that for a second. You mind not kickin' me in the face?

( A left field question, except where he steps right in to scoop her up as easy and gently as if she's a newborn colt. )

[pacificator]

Wha— hey!

[ Because before she can really protest, gravity suddenly changes direction and her feet leave the ground at the same instant as the rest of her gets swept up into this guy's arms. All of her leverage is gone, and she can't even wriggle the way she would to get out of it, because her stupid body is too stupidly sore and fragile. All she can do is glare at him from a distance of a few inches away, scowling. ]

What the hell, dude?

[homeostatic]

Sorry I'm not a dogsled.

( He actually sounds cheerful as he says it, setting off down the road in the direction she was traveling. The town isn't even five clicks across, besides; McCoy has hauled heavier men farther distances. Maybe not like a new bride, but still. )

Where to? I can make you a poultice for those bruises when we get there.

[pacificator]

Yeah, well, what about me is screaming 'damsel'?

[ He sounds way too cheery about this whole situation, while Wynonna does her best to settle herself comfortably. It's tough, because she really does hurt everywhere, even with the weight taken off her leg, but the worst bruises here are the ones to her pride.

Two times in one day she's gotten snatched off her feet and carted around by a guy. She's losing her touch. ]

My cabin's up this path. And then once we get there, you can go ahead and put me down so you can keep going and take a left straight up your ass.

[ It lacks heat, though. She's tired and in pain; it's not her best work. ]

[homeostatic]

( Still, as a serial grump himself, McCoy finds he appreciates her efforts. 'Feisty and alert' will always win over 'slack and unresponsive', in trauma medicine. )

If you're a damsel, ( he drawls, intending on looping back around to her question, ) then I'm a ballerina. What I ain't, however, is an idiot.

Damsels don't throw themselves into fights outside their weight class and then just walk away. ( There's a knowing glint in his eye. So it was more like a stiff limp, whatever, the point is: ) Seems obvious to me you're made of sterner stuff.

[pacificator]

Aw. And here I was gonna ask you to do a little twirl for me later.

[ She narrows her eyes at him, but it's not like he's wrong. Logan and Mall were both easily twice her size; Logan weighed even more than he looked like he should. Her tone is begrudging, but it's beginning to thaw. ]

If this is the beginning of a come on, I should tell you I'm tired and I haven't shaved my legs.

[homeostatic]

( His chuckle is low in the air and deep in his chest, over the steady crunch of snow under his boots. The fog isn't offering much in the way of visibility, but he can at least tell there aren't any obstacles liable to trip him up– twirls or no.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. )

Really? Me too.

( But y'know, on a Professional Note™ ... )

I'll save the come ons for another time. Consider me on the clock right now.

[pacificator]

Great. Can't wait for your bill to show up in five to ten business days.

[ She's favoring her right arm, tucking it against her chest, so when they come to the fork in the path she points with her left hand. ]

My cabin's that way. Sadly poultice-free, unless you're planning to MacGyver something together. Exactly what kind of a doctor are you, anyway?

[homeostatic]

( The quip... well, it goes right over his head at first, and then his smirk looks briefly like a grimace. Right. Folks still expect to pay for medical help in this time. Yikes.

Left they go! )

Trauma surgeon. ( Who's also noticed how gingerly she's treating her arm, adding it to his mental list. Although... ) Who's MacGuyver?

[pacificator]

[ She huffs a laugh, clicks her tongue thoughtfully. ]

You're gonna be busy.

[ Just based on the last few months, alone... she and Ruby aren't the only ones who have gotten seriously injured, and there's absolutely no doubt more's coming along the pipe. Goodsir is excellent at what he does, but even she's got to admit a trauma surgeon is maybe their most useful get yet. Sucks to be him, though? ]

What, didn't watch any TV growing up? Or just didn't have any?

[homeostatic]

( He just smiles at her, wry. Yeah, he's picked that up pretty quick.

Her next line of questions make him wish he'd paid more attention to Jim when he was waxing poetic about 21st century culture. TVs were pre-holo technology, and similarly purposed, so he isn't lying, precisely... )

I grew up out in the country. TV was less of a priority than feedin' the horses and pulling weeds. This your place here?

[pacificator]

Ah, thought I detected a fellow bumpkin. This is it.

[ A small cabin tucked back into the woods, firewood piled on the porch and out of the snow. She reaches for the door handle to let them in to the living space; it's ramshackle but homey and neat. ]

Thanks for the lift, Doc. Any chance you'll leave me here to drink and ice away the pain, the way God intended?