circle7 | an apple a day

Given the nature of their profession, there is not exactly one location they can accurately label as 'home', but there is still something comforting about being back on familiar territory, and not in some dusty, archaic, out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere town. As soon as they had been relieved of their...luggage (read: the good doctor), Viana had all but dashed out of Evan's view to wash up (at the end of the day, she was still a girl, with more stringent hygiene standards than half the members of the Organization). Evan had made his way to do the same, albeit much more slowly, and not before a good, well-earned nap. Sleeping in the couch did not make for great comfort.

Both being adults and fully capable of taking care of themselves, there is no real reason for Evan to check up on his sister, either, but like the 'home' aspect, it is something he naturally feels compelled to do. In absence of his parents, it just feels like an inherited responsibility. The rest of the inhabitants are used to it, anyway, and though they've been informing him all night that no, they haven't seen Viana (with half-exasperated, knowing smiles), they don't particularly volunteer their help, either.

The search even brings Evan to a wing of the temporary base that he doesn't usually frequent, and it is there that he comes across an open door. He gives it a customary glance-over as he passes - a curtain in the middle of the room, what looks like a stolen doctor's bed, an empty desk, and fold-out chair. Just as he's about to leave, though, the curtain moves, metal rings jangling against the railing they're hanging from. Evan pokes his head through the doorway again.

"Viana?"

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The doc's brow tightens. Where had that come from? "What are you ta-" Wait, she couldn't be referring to the other day, could she? Sheesh. Just when Bentley had started to get settled, thinking that was over with...

Clearing his throat, Bentley puts on a more professional demeanor, setting the board aside and crossing his arms. The sudden switch from childish adult to an average doctor is almost an odd one for him.

"Let me see them. Your injuries."

Viana narrows her eyes at him, making no effort to move. The standstill lasts for all of three seconds, before, with a great huff, Evan all but shoves his sister into the room. She nearly trips over her own feet, and admittedly, it's not the most graceful method of persuasion, but perhaps graceful methods don't work on Viana. She whips around to glare at her brother instead, making the cut on her left palm obvious to Bentley.

"What was that for, tonto!"

Quite obvious indeed. Bentley proves to be not quite an average doctor, when rather than taking her hand and to inspect it like that first time, he kneels down by her side and tilts his head to peer into her palm. Upon closer look, his eyes widen, quite intense.

"Wh... This is terrible!" He still makes no move to touch her hand, despite the exclamation.

It matters little whether Bentley made to touch her or not. Viana jumps back anyway, staring down at him like he was another species altogether, not unlike the look Evan was giving him earlier. Evan's brows are raised two, having not expected that particular...move on Bentley's part, but he doesn't say anything, though whether that's out of surprise or amusement is hard to say. Viana stumbles back, holding her hand to her. "...W-what's terrible? It's just a cut!" She even looks back down at it herself, to make sure that in the span of three seconds, it hadn't mutated into some gross, abnormal injury while she wasn't looking.

Bentley straightens, his face grave.

"...You have no love line on your palm."

"Wh-whaaaaat?" Viana exclaims, shockingly disturbed by such ridiculous news. She holds her bleeding palm closer. "Yes I do! It's just covered by my cut!"

"I don't know," Bentley says, voice lowered. His expression becomes even more somber. "It should be right here." A metal finger outlines a crease of skin on his outstretched right palm, just below the fingers.

"No, it's this one," Viana answers, defiantly, and she rubs away a bit of the blood at the crease circling around from the side of her hand, ending up towards the dip between middle and index fingers. "And it's right there."

Evan coughs politely. "Umm..."

It's not enough to get Bentley's attention, unfortunately, but his expression suddenly cracks - right into a smug, somewhat incredulous grin.

"I can't believe you actually know that," he says, taking a precautionary step (or two) back.

"Of course I know it," Viana answers imperiously, lifting her chin to tip her nose into the air. "We're not idiots you know."

Behind her, Evan is inspecting his own palm with a confused look on his face.

Bentley laughs. "No, it's the opposite, really. Only idiots would trust lines in their palms." Skepticism may be expected, though, from a man of science.

Viana's expression instantly darkens - so quickly, in fact, that it might be safe to say she had been expecting some condescension sooner or later. With the injured hand, she pulls back a fist and slams it in the direction of Bentley's jaw.

"V-Vi! What are you doing!" Evan shouts, but a split second too late.

Edited 2010-03-07 08:45 (UTC)

Bentley barely escapes it; he feels the gust of air against his cheek that comes from a speeding punch. The reaction after is quick enough, though. He catches her hand by the wrist a moment after it misses, turning and trapping her arm between his own and his side. Who knows when or how he prepared them, but it's safe to say that the next thing Viana feels is something constricting around her hand - bandages being wrapped around it.

"Granted, I would've deserved that," Bentley concedes, "but you shouldn't throw your injured hand around. You were a millimeter away from needing stitches." Exaggeration, maybe, but a cut on the palm is nothing to mess with.

She struggles (of course she struggles), but a grown man's grip, let alone the grip of a grown man with the additional advantage of a superhuman arm, is more than she's used to dealing with, and she doesn't get very far very fast. The hand in Bentley's grasp flexes and jerks, making bandaging not impossible, but somewhat difficult. "It's just," she says, between pulls and pushes, "a cut! Even I know you're bluffing me!"

"Vi, stop mov-" Evan begins, but it's too late. She already jerks up her knee between Bentley's legs from behind.

"Who's the doctor here, huh- augh, would you stop- if you keep flexing your hand out, it'll- Nngh!"

Well, at least the doc finishes the bandaging before he collapses on his desk, groaning. His body gives a shudder of pain.

"That was... incredibly unnecessary..." His voice sounds a little higher in octave, choked out between quieted gasps.

It seems to appease her. A little bit. Unlike Viana, Evan seems to know when to make an exit and an appeasement. "We'll...just get going now. I'll leave these bandages on the counter, doc," he says, not-so-surreptitiously pulling Viana back outside by her uninjured hand. She goes with minimal fuss, perhaps having no urge to kick up more dirt with things as they are (being that she's better off, and Bentley...relatively is not as much). "Sorry about that again, doc!"

Whatever response Bentley gives just comes out as an unintelligible sound, before there's the thump of his weight sliding to the ground.

Next time, Bentley, just take the punch to the face, he advises himself mentally.

an apple a day

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whoops forgot my KEWL STAWK IKON

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