The hospital was slammed tonight. For whatever reason, everyone and their mom was here tonight, not all of them serious injuries, most in them in fact were simple. I cut hand here that needed to be rinsed, sanitized and bandage, a woman who had complained about her head and only ended up being dehydration, a little boy who had wrecked on his bicycle and his protective parents brought him in, demanding he be scanned from head to toe; he got a Superman Band-Aid on his knee. Exhaustion pulled at her, demanding she find a quiet corner somewhere and sleep, she had already been here for fifteen hours and barely managed to scarf down a sandwich before the next ambulance rolled in. So, it was no surprise when a nurse came rushing up to her demanding she go see a patient in the room a few doors down.
Taking a clip board, she glances at the wound, frowning slightly as she looks up to tell the nurse she needed to get the doctor for this, but the nurse had already disappeared. Sighing, she was interning under the doctor, she had authority and could demand this be brought before the doctor. Yet, no matter how good Miya was at her job, she was still a little meek and didn't particularly care to bark orders at others, plus, the wound didn't seem serious, she could handle it just fine. Squaring her delicate shoulders, she marches down the hall, pushing back that fatigue for a little while longer. Quietly knocking on the door, she enters after a moment, only to be met face to face with an attractive younger man, his blonde locks casually tousled. Offering a smile, "Hello," she greets him before shutting the door and entering the room.
"I'm Miya, I'll be taking care of you tonight," she announces as she strolls forward, setting the clipboard down. Moving over to where he's sitting, Miya reaches out a hand, her delicate and soft fingers gentle on his injured arm, "May I?" she asks prior to lifting it and inspecting the rather deep wound. Frowning, she brushes away some of the dirt with her slender fingers, glancing at it a moment longer before returning his arm to his side. "You're definitely going to need stitches but I'm going to have to clean it first. You're lucky it didn't cut all the way to the bone," she murmurs quietly before standing up and striding to the other side of the room, retrieving equipment as she rummages through the cabinets. "What's your name?" she asks suddenly, realizing she had forgotten to check the paperwork, she had only been looking at the wound.
Returning to his side, she lays the equipment on the table, backtracking to wash her hands and glove herself. "What in the world were you doing?" she asks as she gently begins to dab at the dried blood around the wound. "This is going to hurt," she states, reaching for his arm again, her chocolate eyes flicking upwards to meet his, not sugar coating her words, "I have to scrub the dirt out before I can stitch it," she explains, waiting for his consent before she starts the rigorous process of ridding the dirt from the wound.
Miyako Aiken