Sora cringes as he enters the exam room, taking in the surly man, cradling his arm as if embarrassed by the sheer notion of injury.

Ever the professional, Sora speaks, because speaking is something he can do at the worst of times. "Kitchen accident?" he gets a glare in return so he plows onwards, he can handle unresponsive and angsting. "It's okay. I'm surprised more accidents don't happen, multi-tasking with wet hands and sharp objects with lots of heat? Knives can be slippery at best."

He's trying to see how bad the damage is through the leather of the jacket, before going over to the cabinet by the sink and pilling out the suture kit. He's half dreaming about his apartment with his deliciously soft bed and even more delicious fridge full of food.

"Don't feel you need to tell me what happened, I'll ask no questions 'cause I don't like the lies I get." He opens the chart and makes a jerking motion with his head that's supposed to read as 'get your jacket off so we can do this' but it doesn't seem to come across quite as he planned by the look he's getting. "So, if you get that jacket off we can get started and get you home before curfew, sound good Riku?"

It's a poor stab at humour, but Sora chalks it up to the twelve-hour shift he's still working. "Stalt." Sora suppresses the urge to be dramatic about the silver-haired man finally joining the conversation along with a quip about his vocal chords not suffering any knife damage after all.

"Like James Bond? Stalt, Riku Stalt, I get you." He grins. The sign in on the sheet simultaneously confirming that 'Stalt, Riku', is in fact the patient sitting before him and that Sora needs to work on his penmanship, luckily for him only one of these things is pressing.

He washes his hands before turning back to Riku, who seems to be staring at him like just tried to test his pulse by having him stick out his tongue. Sora pretends it's because the sleeve of the sweet jacket he was wearing is slashed up to the elbow and probably cannot be put back together again. He sets up the medical supplies before taking a seat and grabbing the man's arm.

"This may sting a little." The intern says, holding up the disinfectant like Riku has never had the misfortune of having it used on him before. Sora swabs the cut and Riku barely blinks, though he's in obvious need of stitches and disinfectant hurts the deeper it can get.

"You seriously have no idea who I am?" Riku asks as though he's not being creepily stoic about the whole vertical cut through my arm barely missing my veins.

Sora looks around the room as if Riku could be talking to someone else not taking care of the wound in his arm. "Your chart was clear when it said you don't have a concussion." The look doesn't stop so Sora rolls his eyes. "You're my patient; Riku Stalt, you have a penchant for not speaking to me, wearing sweet-ass leather jackets, and looking sexy and uncaring even while your arm is knifed to all hell and I've seen bigger men cry over less, dude."

Sora is reaching behind Riku to grab the gel he needs to numb the area but his hand is pinned to the table before it can reach it. Riku is pinning it there with his uninjured arm before. "I do my best work with that hand. I'm gonna need it back." Sora says slowly like Riku is a scared dog.

This seems to snap the guy out of it and he lets go with an almost embarrassed nod. "Don't need it." He says as if that's why he stopped Sora in the first place.

"You sure? It's gonna hurt like a bitch. I won't tell if you don't want to be the macho man here. I'm under Doctor-Dude oath here." He holds up his hand as if taking the fifth and crosses his heart with the other. Riku shakes his head and Sora nods in understanding. "Ooookay. You may cry though."

Riku seems to give him a look between approval and distain so Sora shrugs and takes up the other tools. "Good talk." He focuses in on the wound and sets about the task. Sora decides that it is, indeed, a knife wound, and that as long as Riku doesn't say anything about it he'll keep pretending that it happened in the kitchen.

It's not until Sora is pulling away from the wound when he realizes that he barely had to steady Riku's arm at all, and without the numbing gel? That's pretty impressive. "I'd stick a fork in you if you it wouldn't defeat the purpose of you being done."

Riku is frowning down at him when he looks up to speak to the man's face. It's the same look that people give him when he offers to cook dinner. "What?" he has the same indignant response to both too. "I am competent, thanks." He gestures to his scrubs. "Medical school and all?"

When the look he's given alters, Sora takes that as his cue to keep talking. "Now a nurse will come to do your follow-up soon and give you your prescription." He's cleaning up the instruments as he talks because now he can catch Roxas on his way out and go home and finally sleep.

Sora, is in fact, only steps away from the door when he turns around. "Be nice to the nurses Agent S. They run the joint and will be more likely to hand you some placebos if you're not careful." It's not that Sora thinks he really needs it, anyone who can keep their arm still while feeling it being stitched up probably doesn't even need antibiotics, but they probably shouldn't chance it. "And try to avoid any more culinary mishaps, alright dude?"

Riku is staring at him, and if he had to place the look, Sora would call it pensive; as if his patient is trying to decide whether or not Sora is strange or interesting. His money is on strange. "Don't call me dude."

Sora just smiles, because they're probably never gonna see each other again and the comment is unnecessary. "No thanks needed, dude." And then he's pushing his way out the door, missing the way that Riku's intense eyes follow him until the door obstructs their path.

A/N: Pretty much all I know of surgery I know from the Trauma Centre games and what little Grey's Anatomy I saw while my sisters were into it. Forgive me for my mistakes.

-Reiver