%20pngg.png)
"Good. If you ever feel inclined to help me instill some culture into these heathens, please do. Next question: How much do you know about basic medicine, first aid, preventing infection and illness, that sort of thing?"
(gtg for a bit)
(Alright. Later!)
"I might take you up on that." Taran frowned, considering. "I don't know that much. Just a few things about basic first aid and how to treat infections. I had to know that, when I first got this." She motioned to her metal arm. "Other than that, not much."
"Good. That saves me a lot of time and effort if you can basically take care of yourself already. Some people around here wouldn't even know not to eat rotten food if somebody didn't tell them how dangerous it was." Brandon rolled his eyes. "With that in mind, I'll assume you know the basic rules–wash your hands before every meal and after every trip outside camp, don't touch rotten things, stay away from sick people and animals, wash all injuries right away, report symptoms of illness immediately–you get the idea. Real basic stuff. But, it's more important around here because, number one, living conditions are very poor, and number two, I may not have the resources to save someone if they get really sick or hurt. Small problems can turn very serious if they're not addressed." He cut off and shook his head. "Anyway. I tend to rant about it because these bandits are very frustrating to live with. Any questions?"
(I probably have to leave again right away lol, seeya later)
(That's fine XD, I get it.)
"No questions." Taran leaned back against the wall. "To be honest, you're the sanest person I've seen around here." She glanced at Shiv. "No offense, but it's true." She glanced back at the doctor. "Do you have any disinfectant? Because water usually damages my arm, and until I finish my new one, this one will break if it gets wet. I still want to keep it clean, though."
Brandon considered her request dubiously. "Synthetic disinfectant is pretty rare and therefore valuable around here. I can spare you a little, but I have to save most of my store for medical procedures." Reaching down to a scuffed plastic case next to him, he retrieved one of the many small bottles from within and passed it to her. "Make it last. By the way, rumors fly fast around here. I heard you're planning to fight in some kind of tournament back east?"
"Thanks." Taran accepted the bottle from him and tucked it into her jacket pocket. "Yeah, I am. The Fighter's Tournament." She snorted. "Which is honestly such a dumb name. The person who named it probably had about three brain cells, like most fighters I know - knew." She shook her head. "They can be such idiots, but that's okay. I've fought in it for about three years, until this happened, and I had to retire for a bit." She motioned to her arm.
Brandon nodded thoughtfully. "Huh. And now you're thinking of getting back into it, yeah? What's the payoff if you make it to the top?"
"They provide lots of resources to the winner, which could be helpful for the bandit groups. If the fighter works alone, they get enough resources for themselves for a year, but if they work with a group, their entire group gets enough resources to last them a year. There's food, money, land plots, and stuff like that."
"Interesting. Who offers pricey rewards like this? Some group with lots of power? Is there a catch besides having to win the tournament?"
"I mean, it's run by the World Trade Organization, and they give the winners all of their extra stuff." Taran shrugged. "There isn't really a catch, except that you have to be prepared to get hurt or die."
Brandon raised an eyebrow. "Well I guess if it's legitimate then it might be worth a shot…..dying is kind of a major catch, though. Ever gotten close to winning before?"
"I got fourth place," Taran said ruefully. "I almost won, and then this happened." She motioned to her arm. "I got overconfident and cocky. I shouldn't have."
"Happens to the best of us," Brandon said with a shrug. "How do you think I got fired from three separate hospitals before I ended up here? At least you're young enough to get a chance to try again. I'm pretty much stuck here until I drop dead."
"Why? Couldn't you get another job, or is it on your permanent record?" Taran tilted her head in question.
"Well for one thing, there are fewer and fewer hospitals running these days." Brandon settled back in his chair darkly, his expression turning sour again. "But much more importantly, I can't leave this place. You might think being a bandit doctor is a sought-after position, but I got news for you: It's not. The day they caught me on their turf a few years ago is the day they told me they'd cut my legs off if I ever tried to escape."
"We wouldn't do that anymore," Shiv protested half-heartedly. "You're not a prisoner, you're part of the tribe now!"
"Tell that to your chief," Brandon replied dryly. "The old cat knows how rare and valuable I am. No way would he ever give me a chance to get out of here."
Taran snorted. "Even if you could leave, would you want to? I'm sure you've started to like all these uncouth, idiotic bandits, right?" She gave the doctor a half grin.
Brandon grimaced. "No. I do not like them, they're frustrating and rude and psycho and one of these days they're going to make me lose my marbles for good."
Shiv scowled. "What about me 'n Ango? And Axer and Yeller and the other scavengers? I thought you liked us."
Brandon folded his arms and leaned back belligerently. "You have a certain moronic charm sometimes, but it's not enough to make me want to stay."
Shiv's expression turned crafty. "Then….what about the chief himself? You guys sure spend a lot of time hanging out togeth–"
Brandon straightened up so fast he almost fell out of his chair. "That's got nothing to do with anything," he barked. "Just because he's devilishly handsome for an old geezer, that doesn't mean a single thing. Get back to work." He pointed at Taran, somewhat red in the face. "You. You heard nothing. I don't want you to jump to any crazy conclusions based on completely unproven rumors. There is absolutely no truth behind them. Got it?"
(Introducing the most gloriously complicated relationship in any of my stories, universally known as Two Lonely Seniors in Constant Denial T.T )
(XD that is amazing and I love it already.)
Taran glanced at Shiv, biting back a laugh. From his red face and quick denial, she knew that there was something more than what was being said. She bit her bottom lip hard, determined not to smile. "Of course," she managed to squeeze out. "I would never think anything about what I have just heard." She almost choked while she said that, but managed to keep a straight face.
(ahaha same tho, such a fun pair to write XD)
"You're a lying troublemaker, just like the rest," Brandon muttered darkly. "But good job. I'll hold you to that. And there is no need to go ask Boar-back for his opinion on that particular piece of gossip, clear? He's very busy keeping this madhouse afloat, and shouldn't be bothered with trivial nonsense."
(I can imagine! They are awesome.)
"Hmm. Okay, whatever you say." Taran sent him a bright, winning smile. "I wouldn't dare go against the doctor's orders, even if they have nothing to do with health."
(Thanks lol)
"That's very wise. You'll live a long, happy life if you always listen to your doctor." Brandon huffed and turned around to face his desk, pointedly picking up a battered journal and pencil. "Welp, if you have any more questions, ask away. Otherwise, you're free to go and enjoy the rest of your evening doing…..whatever it is you bandits like to do in your free time."
(I actually have to go for the night, sorry I didn't quite catch ya)
"I wouldn't know what bandits do in their free time," Taran said with a barely concealed smile. She had heard all about the strict, mean doctor, and here he was, and he was no more than a guy who refused to show his affection, but had a soft spot for them. "As I'm not technically one myself. I'm just a fighter and a mechanic."
Brandon made some cramped, brisk notes in his journal. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure something out. You could always go get to know the camp dogs, I guess, so they don't try to eat you later. Ask for Danthony, that kid's a wizard with them. No idea how he does it. Anyway, have fun."
"Will do." Taran gave him a mock salute and stood. She sent a glance to Shiv. "Are you coming?" She wasn't sure what to do next. Work on her arm? Try to shove some food down her gullet? Play with the dogs? She wasn't sure.
Shiv glanced at Brandon, then back to Taran. "I'd better stay here an' help out," she said apologetically. "I'll see you at lunch though? It won't be long until the food's ready. Muddybones said you might sit with us at our cooking fire today?"