Free running.

They didn’t call it that for no reason. There were no ropes, nothing to hold him down or back, but also nothing to keep him safe. He could get caught if he stopped. He could fall if he lost his momentum. He could have just taken the bus, but he wasn’t about to let any of that happen.

Gloved hands caught a wrought iron railing and Nolan swung himself over, casual and silent and unapologetic as a cat.

It was good that he wasn’t a burglar, he thought as he padded past the darkened windows.

He took a running start to vault a rail and landed on a rounded railing. He immediately pushed off in order to go back the way he came, but one level up. He caught a decorative outcropping and hoisted himself up to see a man sitting with a pistol and drink in hand, obviously conflicted about taking his own life.

”Hey, buddy.” In those words, Nolan put some memories of himself being a bro and also more than a few of watching others practice parkour so that his angle of approach wouldn’t be too unexpected. ”I just came to see how you were doing seems like my timing was good.” Actually, he didn’t know the man at all, but his timing was fortuitous. And hey. Free booze.

Some hours and bottles and heartfelt discussions later, Nolan’s new friend Steve was passed out on the couch and Nolan had dumped the gun into a mug with some water and left it in the freezer. If he wanted to commit suicide, he really had to want it.

Somewhere between sloshed and schlonkered, Nolan stepped up onto Steve’s balcony and tried to get his bearings back before he lept, slipped, and landed shoulder-first and face-second against a restaurant’s pergola.

There was no small amount of slurred cursing as he stumbled his way to the closest Emergency Room that his phone could direct him to. Nolan tried very, very hard to write his name on the sign in sheet with his gloves on, but his eyebrow kept bleeding into his eyes and despite the pain of what had to have been a dislocated shoulder, he was still very much tipsy.

Long shift tonight. Mal was craving getting outside for some drinks and something more substantial to eat. It sucked when people called in sick, it really did. He didn't have any particular issues with a hard shift but damn did it take it's toll if they were understaffed. It wasn't just on him either, his co workers found themselves feeling grumpy, which made the whole experience a little less fun. 

He'd just finished with stitching up a teenager who'd come in after a car crash when him and his friends got a hold of some drinks and gotten themselves a little bit out of it, and as a result needed some attention. And filing a report of the injuries. Blegh. He smiled and reassured the freaked out kids while he saw to them, the nurse who was processing in that area however was more than a little bit irate at this point which was... a good sign.

When the next person came through she looked like a kettle that had been left to boil just a little too long. He was bleeding a bit, and was struggling to sign the paper, wavering like he himself was also made of paper. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Sir, are you drunk?" She asked, in a not so friendly tone. 

Was he drunk?

Technically yes, but it shouldn't have mattered so long as he behaved himself. Nolan was very careful with his words and tone so that he did not accidentally implant any memories as he spoke.

"Sweet madam, thiss is a hossspital and not a court of law." He tried to smile his most winningest smile and be polite despite his grizzly state. "Treatment is for—" all. He should have said treatment is for all, but blood from his eyebrow had trailed along the side of his face and into his mouth.

Nolan's pallor dropped from tan to ghastly white. For all the blood he had seen and spilled, his own was something else entirely. Tasting and smelling it made him feel as if his stomach dropped out the bottom of his feet.

He quite suddenly had to sit down which jarred his already useless shoulder. He couldn't cry out. He was trying too desperately not to pass out.

This was not at all how he'd expected tonight to go.

The situation with the newcomer seemed to be worsening a bit, he tried to respond in what the nurse perceived as an admittance of his blood-alcohol level. With how hectic the day had been she'd just gotten progressively more irate. Which wasn't a good thing in a nurse or receptionist, but Mal wasn't about to say that out loud to the woman, lest risk bringing her ire onto himself.

He seemed to sway and change colours like a sheet. The nurse quickly grabbed the paper that he was signing and waved another nurse over to help him up. Mal had just finished and sensing the emotions of the staff and the man himself decided to place himself to try and defuse it before any of the others got into worse moods than they already were. And on top of that, the man didn't look very well.

"Sir, would you like to just step this way, I'll see to you quickly." He chimed in a soft, firm tone as one of the male nurses moved to help the man onto his feet and over into an area with seats and a bed.

He would not puke. He would not pass out. He would not puke. He would not pass out. Nolan closed his eyes and very resolutely did absolutely nothing. It was the best he could manage under the circumstances.

Except that they wanted him to be on his feet so he groaned as he was helped to his feet. His shoulder was visibly out of place and it was freaking killing him despite the numbness of his intoxication. No doubt if he had not been so skunked, he wouldn't have been able to walk himself here.

Thankfully the staff was knowledgeable enough to help him by his one good arm and thankfully he'd put on his long sleeve activewear and had yet to remove his gloves. Was it so hard to get treated at whatever o'clock? Nolan couldn't imagine a time when he'd had such a reception at a hospital before and if they gave out memberships, he'd likely be gold or platinum by now.

"I'mm stepping." Actually, he was mostly just leaning into the orderly, but he had every intention to step.

He had to remember... he was supposed to do something about... Oh! Yes. He had to not out himself as a mutant. Nolan groaned as he did eventually take that first step. "I should not say words." Once he'd started, it was easier to keep going.

He shook his head while the orderlies helped him over. It seemed that his level of soberness and injuries had combined into some kind of a painful slur. The orderlies got him to where he needed to be without too much trouble though, and that was what was important in the end. He listened to the man's mutterings whilst paying close attention to his emotions, it really gave him an advantage on the others. 

He began to clock the man's injuries. He clearly had messed up his shoulder. He wasn't the most battered Mal had seen in here though, so it was probably a dislocation, rather than something more severe. Blood on the head, above the eyebrow. He'd need to check for a concussion. It was harder to do things with a patient that was pretty drunk though. 

He picked up on the hesitation and resistance that came along with the comment about not speaking anymore. 

He raised an eyebrow and then moved over to the man as he was sat down very gently. "Hello Sir, I'm Doctor Graves and I'll be seeing to you. So we're going to get you some pain relief quickly, but first I need you to try and answer a couple of questions for me regarding the nature of your injuries, so we can make sure we don't give you anything that's going to make anything worse, alright?" He had on his most reassuring voice, which was getting pretty damn so at this point. 

There was a gurney and some hanging plastic curtains and that was about it as far as Emergency Room privacy went. Nolan smeared the blood away from his mouth and tried very hard not to breathe through his nose. Gross. So, so gross.

Once Nolan was up on the gurney, the doctor seemed more interested in actually helping. The problem was that he wanted to talk with so many words. Nolan's attention span was suffering. Actually, he was mostly just suffering.

"Look. I profably should not have any depressants. You're a doctor. You shoulsh know pain meds don' go with aolcohol." Yes. He was explaining the doctor's job to him now. It seemed like the man was moving in slow motion and Nolan knew from experience that his shoulder would still hurt, but not as thoroughly once it was put back into place.

Rehashing the memories of previous injury was allowing some of those memories to leak into his voice. If Mr. Doctor Graves hadn't dislocated his shoulder before, he would know what it was like now, if he thought about it.

"So if you could just pop this thing back where it goes and do something about thish," he pointed at his face, "I will be on my way."

Except, he'd leave in a cab next time. He'd already tried the vaulting over a guardrail thing whilest drunk once tonight and he was hurting too bad to let himself try it again.

My, the man was certainly nervous and his emotions were also definitely quite active, despite the fact that he was inebriated and in pain he was quite self aware. Mal was actually quite impressed. Somebody who had turned the sheet white colour that he had would normally not be nearly this cognoscente of the things around them. 

He shook his head gently with a reassuring smile. "No of course not right now, my fault for not being more clear with my meaning." He admitted. "After we've diagnosed what's gone on with you, checked for extra injuries and you've had something to drink, cleared some of the alcohol through your system. Then we'll get you something." 

He blinked at the man and shook his head gently. There was definitely some blood around the head area, and the man looked like he'd taken a good knock. On top of that, he wasn't exactly in the state best for judgement. "Sir, I can't say I recommend you leaving so quickly. For one thing you could have some internal damage, or a concussion." That, on top of a recently relocated shoulder wasn't fun for someone to deal with.

Him and a male nurse examined the man more closely. Gently moving his arm, and checking for any more obvious damage like sprains or breaks. Hopefully it was just a dislocation though. "Try and relax sir, we'll be as fast as we can." He spoke, reassuringly. 

Internal—! Nolan sputtered incoherently. Internal damage?

"S'only fallen off one floor've a building." He'd done worse. On purpose. Usually with more poise, but... yeah. He supposed it was possible he was dying inside, but if they really believed that they would have had him off to the X-rays or something, surely.

He grunted, regretting his decision to come in at all. He could have found way to get his shoulder back in socket by himself and then slept it off.

Nolan's sputtering was downgraded to incoherent grumbles as he tried to renew his patience on behalf of the doctor.

He didn't have his ID or insurance card on his person, but he figured that was more of an annoyance to the hospital than to him. He tried to carry as little as possible when he went on these late night excursions. They could retroactively apply benefits once he called it in to file whatever needed filing.

"I got a very physible job, Doc. This is no big. You should just do the fixing straight so I can get to healing 'cause I have work t'morrow." Err. He squinted at a far off clock. Hmm. Was that the time? "Today." He amended.

So much for having difficulty with speech... Nolan was actually quite the talkative gentleman, and at least somewhat knowledgeable about injuries. Malcom might have even found him endearing, if he wasn't drunk as a skunk and slurring every other sentence. "I'm sorry, you fell out of a building?" He exclaimed, still checking the man over for signs of more overt injuries at the very least. "Just how did you manage that?"

Sensing the burst of regret and apprehension, Malcom tried to be as quick with the process as he could be, without cutting corners or making mistakes. The Brit might have joked around about the issues with his job, and the hours quite frequently, but he actually took his practicing very seriously, and he wasn't about to make a potentially dangerous mistake that could threaten someone's health just because they were getting a little uppity. 

Grimacing once again at the man Malcom shook his head in exasperation. "We'll be as quick as we can in that case Sir." he responded, gesturing to the nurse to hand him the kit for stitches.  "As your paperwork was pretty rushed, do you have any allergies we need to know about, or any problems with local anesthesia?" He asked, opening the kit.

"Ha!" Went quickly to "ow" Nolan wore his emotions on his sleeve whether drunk or not. "I dibbit fall, I--" It was at this moment that Nolan realized that saying he jumped out of/off of a building on purpose, was not in his best interest.

"It's a hobby you wouldn't understand, bud admittably not one I'm in condibsion to practice." With his soft hands and his warm smile, Nolan was sure Mr. Doctor Man was not one who needed the same kind of release. To move. To risk his life under his own conditions. To be... free.

Doctors worked long and hard hours, otherwise he wouldn't be here now, but those long and hard hours weren't the same.

Nolan smiled his most charming now that there was a sufficient amount of pep in Mr. Doctor Man's step.

"No latex allergy. No heart murmmmmurs. Fit as a 'nebreated fiddle."

Mal really tried not to laugh or snort at patients, he really did. But sometimes.... "Hah! Well I'm not one to judge others on recreational activities, considering I expose others to my beautiful singing voice" He sarcastically rolled off. "But, I must say that building hopping sounds like an activity that might cost you a few too many precious brain cells." With that he winked at the man and reached for a light anesthetic gel. 

He got a brace out and the nurse placed it gently on the shoulder as Mal set up the gel to one side. The idea here was that doing the arm first would make the second part of cleaning him up feel considerably less uncomfortable my comparison. They handed Nolan a brace to bite down on as they moved to set the dislocated shoulder back into place. 

"Okay good. I'm just going to clean up the cuts and give you a light local Anesthetic while we stitch it up for you." He explained as he dabbed a cotton bud, and then followed it up with a disinfectant dabbed bud, cleaning it out gently before applying the gel  and getting to work the the stitches and moving it gently through the wound, maintaining conversation to help distract the man that was no doubt in a lot of pain from it. 

"So Nolan was it? What do you do for a living, I can't imagine getting plastered and diving off of buildings pays very well." The Brit joked. 

The amicable doctor schtick would have gone so much better if Mr. Doctor Man were 30 years older and 30 pounds heavier. As it was, the wink just came off like... well, like Nolan was a little too drunk. And winking usually indicated interest.

"No, no. The building jumping is very freeing." And the gel made Nolan's shoulder feel cold. He did a double take, but yeah the doctor was wearing gloves, of course. Whoah. When had Nolan lost his shirt? He looked down and realized that it was still on and Mr. Doctor Man was just reaching down between his shirt and his skin.

So frisky.

Eeeexcept that he offered him a brace to bite, which Nolan refused, and then without warning, he yanked on the shoulder until it was back in its socket.

"!!!" Nolan panted and hit the gurney with his other fist, but managed not to make any terribly embarrassing sounds. They never did give warning. He should have remembered, but he'd been preoccupied with that winky winking winker.

He closed his eyes and breathed deep the not-at-all soothing smells of antiseptic, latex, and his own sweat and blood. Mr. Doctor Man's question was a lifeline that drew him back from a dizzying yearning to sleep.

"Hmm. I work for Uncle Sam at the Department of Defense. Training mostly, but I can't kill ya 'cause I don't want to tell ya." Or. Maybe teh other way 'round.