"You should learn to listen to your higher-ups," she grumbled as she stood and wrapped an arm around him, guiding him belowdecks to the 'clinic' they had on the ship. Now there were more crew members jumping into action while Fane worked to get Anto belowdecks.
(I laughed so hard)
He shamelessly leaned almost all of his weight against her, his legs buckling under him as he walked.
"Maybe I should have stayed in place," he mumbled.
"Maybe," she agreed. She could feel him leaning so heavily against her, but she made no complaint or sound regarding the weight.
Crewmembers darted past them, and the distant sound of fighting told her that there were more attackers, but on a different end of the ship. She paid it no mind, trusting her crew, and ducked down the stairs heading below deck.
"I'm surprised they are sober enough to fight," he commented as the crew rushed past. "Just a second ago they were drop-dead drunk."
"They still are, but even drunks know how to swing a sword or fist. You'd be surprised how effective a drunk is at annoying a sober opponent to the point where even they get too frustrated to think or fight properly." She reached over and lit a lamp, then led Anto to the room fashioned to be a clinic of sorts.
"Fuck," he grumbled as he was laid down on a table that was turning to a bed by a white sheet. "I think I broke a rib."
"Doctor," Fane ordered, pointing at Anto and stepping back. The small female scurried over without a word spoken, only a nod and some prodding done to see the extensiveness of Anto's wounds. She tilted her head and looked up at his face as she poked and lightly pressed at his side.
"Ow!" he shouted, jerking away by instinct. "You could have just asked!"
The female didn't respond, only pulled her blonde hair away from her face into a loose bun, then tugged up his shirt to get a visual on the external injuries. Fane watched silently as well, leaning against the farthest wall with her arms and ankles crossed; a small frown tugged the corners of her lips downwards.
"You crew probably needs you," Anto said, closing his eyes after more prodding. "I will be fine. Give those savages hell for me."
He pushed his damp hair out of his face, wiping the sweat from his man on the sheet he was laying on.
The female looked up at Fane, brow raising. The first mate shook her head and didn't make a move. "Mercedes needs me here with her while she works on you." No one really understood it, but the ship's tiny doctor and brash first mate were as thick as thieves.
"And why is that?" he asked, shifting slightly after another prod, "Would you not be most useful helping defend the ship?"
(My b, my b, I changed it)
Mercedes gathered what she needed from her prodding and looked to Fane. The first mate stood up straighter as the small woman turned to her and gestured to her own rib cage, pointing with different numbers of fingers every now and again. "Because you have two broken ribs and one bruised rib," she told Anto with an arched brow.
"….And she needs you for….?" Anto was a rational thinker, and this seemed very irrational to him.
The small woman let out a sigh-like noise and stood in front of Anto, opening her mouth and pointing. Her tongue had been cut off, and there were scars on the corner of her mouth, like something had roughly bit into the skin.
Now all of the pieces came together.
"OOooooh," he exclaimed, blushing slightly. "I apologize. I did not know."
Mercedes smiled kindly and patted Anto's shoulder, then moved over to a counter to begin gathering supplies.
Fane came up to his other side. "That would be the other doctor, Mercedes Thorne. Tiny, but can be one helluva brutal woman if she needs to be. Never piss her off whenever she's holding a needle or scalpel to you. 'Accidents' are prone to happen."
"Ah, the woman sucking the soul out of one of the poor carpenter boys?" he asked, nodding. "She was the one who patched up my legs."
Mercedes curled her nose in disgust when he mentioned the soul-sucking. Fane chuckled, the sound containing an edge of raspiness. "She helped to patch you up, though you might not remember her. The one you're talking about is the main doctor, Lady Presley."
"Yeah, it is hard to remember things when one is bleeding to death," he said, frowning down at his exposed torso. "What does she plan on doing?"
"Attempting to fix your ribs that you broke," Fane said bluntly as Mercedes came over with some supplies. The tiny doctor nodded, then started wiping down the wound with disinfectant.
"No, I did not break them," he said, pointing a finger vaguely in Fane's direction, "The fat-ass that fell on me broke them."
"The fat-ass that you jumped on and caused him to fall, you mean," she countered smoothly. "Had you not done that in the first place, we wouldn't be here, now would we?"