2007-04-21: A Bit of Needling

Starring:

Namir_icon.gif Samantha_icon.gif

Summary:

After taking a dip in the harbor to rescue a few rescuers, Namir calls Samantha to bring in an arsenal of vaccinations to stave of whatever diseases live in the Hudson. She sticks him before the count of three, and he gets a Transformers band-aid.

Date It Happened: April 21st, 2007

A Bit of Needling


Namir's Apartment

A dip in the harbor is not exactly what one would call a wonderful way to spend the day. Namir retreated home — squishy shoes, half-digested hotdog bits and all — as quickly as he could after his little dip and did as he had threatened: he stood in the shower until the hot water ran out entirely. The sun has set by the time he's out and about, dressed in "relax clothes" — boxers and a tanktop — and he is currently standing in the kitchen attempting to figure out the mechanics behind egg creams. It's an addictive substance.

The Hudson is /full/ of nasty crap. That's why people who are brought into the ER after having jumped into it are given a round of shots to prevent any number of diseases they might have picked up in the polluted water, including but not limited to tetanus. Sam's knock on the door comes maybe forty-five minutes after she was called, and when Namir opens the door, she's holding a coolant kit by its briefcase handle and has a bemused expression.

Abandoning his experimentation with egg creams, Namir does indeed move to answer the door, and he doesn't bother taking a look through the peephole to see who it is. He called Sam, that's who he's expecting, and that's who's standing on the other side. He takes in the kit and, with a tired smile, he draws the door open wider and steps to the side to allow her entrance. "Oh good," he mutters. "You brought me drugs." He's a big tough guy with plenty of vim and vigor, but even /he/ isn't about to take a chance with the Russian Roulette that is the Hudson.

"I brought -shots-." Samantha corrects. "Do you have any idea what kind of diseases you can get from the Hudson? It's practically septic." she steps inside. "You might want to just burn the clothes you jumped in with. Though I'm still not quite sure why you jumped in the first place, could you go over that part?" She moves into the living room, taking a seat on the couch and setting the case down.

The door is closed and locked behind Sam before Namir also moves to the couch and settles down on it with a sigh. "The wind picked up and blew a boy into the water. Of course, everyone and their dog had to rush in and help and wound up needing rescued /themselves/, so I went in after." He waves a hand in the vague direction of the bathroom. "I already packed my clothes in a trash bag; I just need to have them tossed." He cocks his head, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. "Unless you wanted to take them in and test them for strange and interesting new diseases. You might make a new discovery and become famous. Doctor Samantha Applebaum discovers Hudsonintisopherous." One hand is used to illustrate the words as though on a billboard before his face.

"Wow." Sam says, grinning. "That's…not even the corruption of a word. That's just gobbledegook. C'mere brave man, because you've got a round of shots coming your way. It's going to be sooooo much fun." Opening the case, a series of shots, ranging from small and reasonable to oh-my-effing-god-that's-big are set into the foam, the upper top of the case lined with coolant. She reaches into a side compartment and pulls out a pair of plastic gloves. Snap, snap, baby.

"There is not a word in English, Arabic, or Hebrew to describe what is the Hudson," responds Namir gravely. "I thought a little creativity was warranted." He scoots closer when he's summoned and even leans over to place a kiss to Sam's cheek, smirking. "Aw, but you are here to kiss it better, so it can't be all bad, hmm?" … and then he gets an eyeful of the syringes involved — and some of those needles don't look friendly. He doesn't always mind needles or shots, but those … some of those just look downright /nasty/. Gone is the smirk, replaced instead by a passive, if not slightly shocked expression. "… you don't happen to have any bright band-aids in that kit, do you?" Humor makes it better.

Samantha smiles sidelong. "Maaaaybe." she drawls. "But you'll only get a butch color like blue or black if you're very good." More gently, "Have they gotten back to you on how long the suspension will last?"

"I'll be very good if you promise not to maim me with those." Namir nods his head to indicate the Case of Scary Needles. He's already begun imagining where /some/ of those needles are going to end up in his person, and half of those ideas make him quite uneasy. Still, better a little sting and some slight soreness now than leprosy or something even worse later on. He is willing to take a needle for the greater good. His tone and expression becomes a little more solemn at the question and he draws away to settle back against the couch once again, putting his right arm within easy access of syringes. "Not yet. I imagine it will continue until they finish their investigation. It could be weeks, it could be a few more days; however long it takes them to clear me."

"But they -will- clear you." Of that, Sam is positive. "I won't make you go over it again but some time you need to tell me what happened. Do you want me to start small and then go to big, or the other way around and get the worst over with first?"

"I hope they will." Namir has some faith in his defense, however he is not entirely sure it will work out. There's still Scott Baker to think about as well — /he/ does not have as convenient a defense. But that's a subject for another time, and he shakes it off to return to the present conversation: /needles/. He examines the bounty with a grimace. "Mm. Better go big to small, I suppose." A skeptical glance is offer to Sam. "Injecting all of these at once isn't going to have any sort of adverse effect, is it? I am not going to suddenly sprout hair everywhere, gain 200 pounds, and go bald, am I?"

Samantha laughs. "Try not to look too disapointed, but no. If you want my advice," she plucks the biggest one out and flicks it to clear out air bubbles, "Biggest first is the way to go."

The uncomfortable expression returns to Namir's face, but he remains remarkably calm otherwise. That is one big ugly needle, that one is. He's glad to be getting it out of the way /first/. "Mm-hmm. I'm not disappointed, though I was looking forward to all those romantic evenings we could spend together, you with a razor, me with gobs of back hair to be shaven." Maybe it's a bad idea to be cracking jokes when someone is about to stick a needle in one's arm. Namir casually turns his gaze elsewhere in the room, focusing in on the rat cage.

Samantha snorts. "Be a big boy and give me your arm." She gives him a manic faux mad scientist look, and then returns to grinning.

Out goes Namir's arm, along with a sidelong glance cast toward Samantha — and /hey/. He caught that look. His eyes narrow, lips turning downward into a light-hearted scowl. "You are enjoying this far too much, my dear."
"Am I?" Samantha says mildly. "Maybe I just think it's a beautiful display of your trust in me. How many men would let their girlfriend shoot them up with needles that aren't heroin addicts?"

Namir smiles and lets out a quiet snort. "Not many, I suppose." A pause, then another skeptical squint. "I /hope/ that is not heroin. I don't know, Sam, for all I know, you could be experimenting on me in my sleep. How badly /do/ you want those grants, mm?" All light teasing, of course, before his eyes go back to anything else in the room /but/ that needle, his arm extended expectantly.

Samantha lets out a laugh. "I've got plenty for my current work." she assures. "Believe me, I don't need to be experimenting on you. Count to three." Of course, on two she sticks the needle in and presses the stopper to send the medicine into his body before pulling it out again. "There, that's tetanus. Wasn't that fun?"

None the wiser, Namir does indeed begin to count: "One, two— " Of course, he doesn't get to three, wincing at the brief, but very noticeable pain. The breath caught in his throat is released as soon as the needle's out, and he relaxes again. "Oh, quite. Makes me want to try acupuncture." He isn't upset about the trick with the counting: it is a justifiable means to an end, and she didn't /technically/ say she was going to stab him when he reached 'three'.

Just rack it up to more evil mastermindedness. New things to add to the list every day! She reaches for another syringe. "It'd be easier for you if you didn't tense up when the needle's in." she counsels. "Actually, some people respond very well to acupuncture."

"Some people enjoy hanging themselves by hooks from the ceiling, too," chuckles Namir. "That doesn't mean I would." He keeps his eyes pointedly on the far wall, convinced that if he's taken by surprise, he will not tense up so much — when in fact, he might be better off just watching the proceedings. Nobody said he was logical all the time. "I am not trying to tense up," he adds matter-of-factly. "Perhaps you should have brought some morphine."

Samantha snorts. "This isn't the sort of thing morphine's for. Don't be a baby. I had to get a tetanus shot when I got sliced. Now see, this one," and in it goes, "Is for diptheria."

"Mmph." In Namir's defense, he doesn't tense up as much /this/ time, having already grown accustomed to the surprise of the tetanus shot not more than a few seconds before the diptheria. "For taking a /dip/ in the Hudson, no doubt." Ooh. That was more painful than the /shot/.

Samantha rolls her eyes, and doesn't even warn him on the next shot. Oww. "Only two more to go!" she tells him brightly, "And then you'll be all done."

That needle felt like a needle of /vengeance/. It is apparently not advised to tell very bad puns whilst being vaccinated either. Namir smirks a bit as the finish line comes into sight. "Mm, you were right: biggest to smallest is easier." And less stressful. Knowing that even worse shots were coming would have made things much less bearable psychologically.

Samantha grins. "That's because I know what I'm doing." Sam points out blithely, and the final two shots are dispatched quickly before she finally pulls off the gloves, stuffs them in a side compartment and snaps the case shut. "All done. And now you won't contract some godawful disease."

"Good to know." Thus released from the horrors of syringes, Namir glances at his assaulted arm. As always, only a slightly reddened mark here and there indicate that he was even stuck with anything at all, and he rubs at the spot absently with his opposite hand before looking up at Sam and smirking. He leans in again, but is content to just hover close rather than apply any kisses just yet. "See? Now I am all vaccinated. Doesn't that make you happy?" It makes /him/ feel better.

Samantha instead applies a band-aid. In a fit of amusement, it's dark blue, with tiny red and silver Autobot and Decepticon decals on it. Then she takes his hand, and presses a kiss to his palm. "Much. I very much appreciate you not dying."

Oh look, band-aid. Somewhere inside Namir is a little boy who is completely thrilled at the designs on the band-aid, and it shows in the grin he now wears. "Ooh, stylin'," he remarks brightly. "Now I have the urge to run about the apartment shouting, 'Autobots, transform!'" He has a Transformers band-aid; clearly, he has been made invincible. In a more serious tone, he inquires, "Are you going back tonight?" Because try as he might, he can't figure out egg creams.

"Nope, I was at the end of my shift when I showed up here." Samantha informs him. "So if you want I could stay, even if it's after I've stuck you full of holes."

"Good, because I plan to milk that for all it's worth." Namir taps his band-aid meaningfully. Optimus Prime demands guilt from evil mastermind doctors. "I was about to pop in a movie after I had attempted to make an egg cream, /and/— " he adds with a kiss to her cheek "— I have an overdue book report that may even get turned in before we fall asleep." Because he managed not to get shot during today's crisis; that's an accomplishment.

"Tempting, but what movie had you planned on watching?" Samantha rises to head for the kitchen, /she/ starts putting together the egg cream. Maybe it's a native New Yorker gene thing. "Because you know, once I fall asleep, it'd take a pretty impressive book report to wake me up."

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