Bunker thins his mouth. "How is he?" Under the dull lights, his eyes look black, blacker than the circles beneath them. "Is he gonna be okay?"
She wipes her bloody hands across her forehead, leaving dark smears against her pale flesh. Sweat drips down her neck and makes her collar itch. "Depends." She shrugs, stepping away from the table, trying to breathe.
"Um, are the implants necessary, though?" He mutters. His gaze is fixated on the unconscious kid and the new, glinting synthetic attached into his right arm.
She scowls. "Unless you want him to die. Yeah, they kinda are."
Bunker rubs a hand over his neck, having the decency to look somewhat abashed. "Fine. I mean. . .shit. You did good, kiddo." He sighs. "Thanks. When. . .will we know?"
She shrugs again and moves to walk around him and wash her hands. It may not look it, not with her impassive mask in place, but she is completely shaken. Her fingers are still trembling as she turns on the faucets. She breathes, and her lungs still hurt, because she held her breath on almost every cut that she made into those pale limbs.
Really, she wants Bunker to take Cap and leave her the hell alone, because she thinks that she might be about to lose it.
"When he wakes up, or when he starts twitching and choking on his own blood." She scrubs her nails hard enough beneath the cold stream that her fingertips split. "That's when we know." She grunts, ignoring the pain.
"Hey." Bunker is close behind her. She can sense him, and she almost gives a start when he lays a warm, broad palm on her shoulder. "You okay, kid?"
No. She really isn't. Another shrug, away from the contact, and she dries her stinging hands on a cloth hanging next to the medicine cabinet. "I'm fine. But don't. . .don't you ever do this again." She hisses, blinking back the burn inside her eyes. "I'm not a goddamn doctor."
"I know. I won't." He murmurs.
Tension hangs between them. She goes to the small cooler and looks around for something to drink, and hears him waking Cap in the corner. He passed out at the fourth hour on her couch. Considering the bloodbath they went through earlier, she was surprised that he lasted as long as he did. Bunker managed to stay awake with her, though. Through the whole thing.
They didn't talk. But it was. . .okay, all the same. She isn't exactly sociable, anyways, so the silence suited her.
"Come on." Bunker nudges him. "We gotta head back, check on the guys."
Cap blinks groggily and struggles to get up. "What about Menace?" He frowns. "Did he make it?"
Bunker walks towards the door. "Dunno yet, man. We'll check on him soon, okay?" He glances over his shoulder at her, but she isn't looking at them. Her gaze is fixed on the poor, medicated kid sprawled across her table.
"I'll be here." She mutters.
They leave without another word. She keeps watching Menace without thinking, watching his chest rise and fall, listening to the shallow wheezes that rattle from his lungs. Her synthetic. . .will have to wait. At least until everything is somewhat back to normal again. Until Menace is gone.
She pushes a chair next to the table, so she can monitor the crude medical drip keeping the kid hydrated. Head in her sore hands, she has to wonder. . .he might not be so happy with her when he gets up. Not when he gets a good look at what she did to him to keep him alive.