hfm_logs | [Open] Aiming for an Early Check Out

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[Open] Aiming for an Early Check Out

Warnings: Food thrown around with nary a thought as to who it might hit
Location: Hospital and street below
Characters: Casey Jones and you
When: 4-5 days after the Carnival fight
Summary: Casey is in the hospital, and extremely bored.

Two nurses were talking outside Casey's room and all he could pick out was "doesn't sleep" and "won't even relax." They were probably also talking about how he was magic and could make fire with his mind and how cool it was. Probably. They must not have wanted to let on how awesome they thought he was to his face which was good because otherwise it'd be kind of miserable being sporadically attended to by sulky doctors and grouchy nurses and Casey kind of had enough to be miserable about.

They'd taken the TV from him, for one thing. Apparently trying to fetch the remote by using a baseball bat for an extended reach was "a good way to break it" and got the privilege taken away. Meaning there wasn't much to do but write in his journal or sleep, and Casey was kind of sick of both. Sure, Casey had done a LOT of sleeping the two days or so. He'd practically passed out on Greg's back and hadn't woken up until they'd had time to dress him in a hospital gown, get him into a bed, get his leg into a brace (fracture rather than break, thank goodness), and leave a lousy cold hospital lunch which he'd eaten two bites of and lost his appetite, but now Casey was back to his usual self (i.e. five hours of sleep a night.)

He'd covered his journal in doodles of shadow monsters, drill sargents in full suits of armor, city skylines, and him and Greg fighting a giant shadow horse with eight eyes and spiky hooves. He'd made Greg look significantly more heroic than he did, with long flowing hair (and not balding) covered in spiny vines and flanked by monstrous venus fly traps. That were on fire. Courtesy of Casey's drawing of himself, considerably more muscular than Casey himself and holding flaming hockey sticks crossed over his head.

Yeah, that would've been cool if it had happened. But Casey's interest had worn off, and now he didn't have much to do but reflect on what was going on which he hated anyway, but especially now because he couldn't approach the situation in a way that didn't make him feel homesick and lonely.

Normally he could expect after-school visits from April and late night visits from the turtles, and he really missed the company. He'd been here on his own for at least the two days he wasn't asleep. He couldn't shake the thought that they should be fighting with him. He'd apparently been chosen to fight this war, which made sense to him. He'd always known he was meant for something greater, but his friends had fought along side him since the beginning, and maybe he felt just...a little lost without them. He'd already been through a year of having no real friends, and that was enough for him.

He had to stop this train of thought somehow, which was good because that was about when a particularly surly nurse came in with lunch, slapping the tray down on the bed. Casey had already picked a fight with her about eating that slop and she'd made it very clear that he wasn't going to get the papers for his release until everything on the tray -the chicken sandwich, the peas, the mashed potatoes and the jello- was gone.

Which didn't necessarily mean he had to eat it...

He set the tray on the side table, grabbed his crutches, and hobbled over to the window. He needed some air, determined to make the smell make him queasy. His room was up sort of high, and across the way was a trashcan with the lid propped up on it, concave side out, almost like a target. Probably somebody taking the trash out. Casey positioned himself leaning against the wall, and grabbed the spoon and a handful of peas.

He could probably hit the dead center if he positioned his little spoon catapult just right. And if somebody was walking by, well, who could care about getting hit with a pea? They might care if he started flinging the mashed potatoes, but that was for later...

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It took a little longer than Greg would have liked to make his visit--literally, as he'd gotten waylaid en route to Casey into finally having his chest checked. Greg himself had a bit of aversion to hospitals; less to do with any sort of medical history or anxiety about illness, and more to do with having no health care or money in general. It had taken a lot of pestering, as well as several reassurances that it would be free, before he'd relented on an x-ray.

Thankfully, nothing was too far out of place, though supporting the weight of a teenager right after breaking hadn't helped things. With a confirmed fracture and a bottle of asprin, Greg finally made it to Casey's room in time to see a shot bounce off a streetlight.

"It's that bad, huh?" Another good reason to avoid hospitals: not having to deal with the food.

It had been Wash who did the waylaying and most of the pestering. Just because Greg was making his way around pretty well didn't mean he wasn't injured and didn't need help, and hell, they were heading into a hospital anyway.

Wash was slightly less impressed to see the streetlamp ricochet. (Okay, the aim was impressive, but that didn't change the fact that Casey was effectively throwing his food out a window.) He turned his best exasperated stare on Casey. "Really?"

"Hey, yo, Greg!" Casey twisted around from his place at the window. He looked like he was OK, which was something considering how nasty Casey had felt after their fight. "Everything in one piece?"

"And...hey, Army Dude." His exuberance kind of faltered a bit when Wash came in, in the same way it did when he saw teachers after he skipped class or policemen while he was tagging. Wash's appearances up until now had meant one thing: Casey was in trouble. Still, he and Greg had won the fight which was a trump card for everything as far as he was concerned.

"You guy's here to spring me? 'Cause I think that nurse has it in for me." He'll...just skip the remote bit, and the fight he picked about the food. He turned the rest of the way to face them and held up the sandwich like it was a dead raccoon. "...And I'm pretty sure the chicken is undercooked."

Edited 2015-07-24 18:36 (UTC)

"Seven-eighths of a piece, at least. You're looking less fractioned yourself. Sorry we didn't come check on you sooner." They had issues to work out, first. If Greg noticed the muted enthusiasm for Wash, he didn't show it.

He gave the sandwich a very serious, contemplative frown. "That sounds contrary to what the hospital's for. I'm betting they want you out of here as much as you do." Honestly, Greg's just glad the hospital still looked after Casey, even though he was an out-of-towner. Grumpiness doesn't get in the way of a job, it seems.

Well, maybe if Casey would stop making trouble, he wouldn't be in trouble. "Really! Because she seems to think you have it in for her, considering the flying remote and the war over the food." Wash was fairly certain that the nurse was exaggerating somewhat, but he was also pretty sure that she wasn't making things up out of the blue, especially given how plausibly Casey everything she said was.

"But yes, we're here to take you home, provided the nurse says you're good to leave." The much maligned nurse who didn't seem to like Casey much. Yeah, that'd go well.

"hey, there ya go: now they want me gone, and I'm totally game. We'll both be happy!" Casey wasn't in the mood to get lectured at right now. He's so ready to leave he'll go with Commander Gripes-a-Lot, but of course he's going to take her side over his. "Anyway, she started it."

But there were other things to focus on right now. Casey gives Greg a look up and down. "I don't see a cast or nothin'. What'd ya break?"

Greg grinned his way through a grimace. He'd rather keep this from devolving into bickering. "Ehh, just a rib. It's not going to start poking anything, so there's nothing to worry over."

There was a pretty important point getting glossed over, though. "She's ready to let you out as soon as that food's gone, y'know. Skimping on meals sure doesn't help things stitch back together faster, either." Hospital food's not great, sure, but Greg's never liked the idea of wasting anything remotely edible. If Casey wouldn't eat it, he'd take it. For the greater good.

"What--?"

A pony had passed by at a terribly inconvenient time, and her horn had proved the perfect size to intercept the pea flung down into the alley. Pity, it might have been a good shot otherwise.

Celestia looked up at the windows of the building, trying to figure out exactly where that had come from.

What had he even hit?

His room wasn't so high up that he couldn't tell it was a horse, sure, but from above it looked weird somehow. He'd had an up close and personal encounter with a horse recently and this one at least wasn't on of the Nox. At least the thing hadn't come back to haunt him.

And then it looked up at him, and Casey caught on: it was a pegacorn. Living with a little sister had gone a long way to teach him the difference between the magical horses of the world, but even with all the magic stuff he was familiar with, he hadn't expected to ever see one unless it was a robot or alien.

He couldn't help the exclamation of "dude!" The rainbow mane was a bit much, but she still wouldn't be out of place on a metal album cover.

Said pony spread her remarkable wings, then crossed the vertical distance between window and street with a few flaps. In a moment, she hovered outside his room, wings beating swift and measured strokes to hold her in place.

"Are you throwing food out your window?" she said, her affected irritation completely failing to hide her amusement.

If Casey hadn't been balancing on crutches he would have taken a unconscious step back. Partly for the fact that he now has an idea that horses are really dangerous and also because she's freakin' huge. She seems to have some kind of crown on so she must be some kind of...queen of all horses.

He looks at the tray for a second, and then tips it up so she can see it. "Would you eat it?"

Celestia put her hooves on the windowsill in a pose as casually conversational as a flying magic pony could achieve while hovering out the window. "Well... yes, since a healing body needs proper nutrition to repair itself."

He snorts. "You mean this stuff? It tastes like it's made from the wax they use on the floors! Besides you're probably used to eating, like, golden hay and caviar oats or something."

"To be honest?" She glanced back out the window, a routine check to make sure nopony was listening, then stuck her head a bit further in as she dropped her volume. "I really prefer cake, too!"

He chuckled. A horse that ate cake? She MUST be royalty. "Guess nothing could compete with what'cha get by being...a horse queen or whatever you are."

Casey had never actually met royalty before, and it didn't even occur to him that it might not be a good idea to act like...well, himself.

The alicorn waved a hoof dismissively, still smiling brightly. "Royal cooks overdo everything, to be honest. Fancy dishes and exotic ingredients are interesting to try, but when it comes to simple deliciousness, very little beats a pie from the local bakery."

"Eh, wouldn't know. I do kind of want pie now though."

He folds his arms on the table beside him, plopping down in a chair. It's hard to stand on crutches for too long. "So are you some kind of...warhorse of the gods or something? They don't got horses like you where I come from."

Not that he's ever seen, anyway.

Edited (Hit enter too early lady, that's me) 2015-07-30 17:08 (UTC)

"That is a familiar refrain." Celestia chuckled, seeming perfectly at ease with conversing through the window while flying. "I am Princess Celestia, and my land is Equestria, a nation of ponykind."

So, she's a princess? He'd hate to see the queen.

Celestia, huh? "So you're like...a space horse who rules over a land of horses? How do they even make pies?"

Edited 2015-07-31 18:12 (UTC)

"I am not certain how 'space' became involved in this conversation," Celestia said with a perfectly warm smile, "but I am co-ruler of Equestria, yes. We make pies by putting fillings into crusts and baking them, and my understanding is that humans are not so different in that respect."

"Celestial, Celestia...Like space and stuff, right?" Is that not what that word means? Casey will be the first to admit that he spends more time in school sleeping than learning.

"And anyway, you guys have hooves! How do you even pick stuff up without hands?" He flexes his own as if in demonstration.

"Ah, I see where you are coming from. In this case, my name is most connected to the particular celestial body that I raise, the sun. Just as my sister, Princess Luna, raises the moon in Equestria each night."

Of course, 'celestial' also meant 'supremely good', but she only tried, and wouldn't claim to succeed.

And as if that didn't raise enough questions, Celestia chuckled at his next inquiry. "Our hooves and our mouths are capable of manipulations, and those of us with horns also have our magic."

This is starting to make his head hurt, like when he actually looks at his trigonometry book. "Wait...you have to do that yourself? It doesn't just rise and set on it's own?"

But that means...well, it means a lot of stuff that he doesn't have the scientific background to understand, but it must mean their world isn't spinning, or it has to be spun manually. Or maybe she's moving the sun itself, just grabbing a giant ball of fire and yanking it around space? He can't even comprehend that. It's beyond him.

Maybe it is best to stick to pie. "And you have people put their mouths on all your food? That's super gross."

"We have plates and utensils, you know!" Celestia laughed slightly, then craned her head in to peer around the room and judge its space. "Do you mind if I come in? I certainly could hold this entire conversation while hovering outside your window, but I would prefer not to."

He shrugs and steps -well, hobbles- aside. "Yeah, if you can get in the window!"

The bed's a fair enough place to sit down and Celestia can fit where ever she fits. "So...is it just horses in your world or what?"

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