Let it not be said that Seph wasn't good at her job despite the deep loathing she harbored against anything that wasn't her tools or cute animals. Why else would she force herself to stay awake well past midnight just to call a phone number she knew would end in a voicemail? She may be well on her way to becoming a hermit, but, dammit, she knew what she was doing.

It was also why she was grumpy when there came a knock on the door to her little apartment. With a deep scowl in place, she forces herself to stand and answer the door, using all of her considerable will power to keep from punching the man on the other side. Not, she added in her mind, that he would care one way or the other. A rare case, her patient couldn't even feel the softness of a pillow, let alone four knuckle bones connecting with his already bruised cheek.

The patient looks her over as she does the same to him, taking in the puffy left eye and the gaping hole in the left palm. Injuries would be simple to patch up, forcing him to sit down for an examination would take some bargaining, but she'd get paid no matter what. The patient seems a bit miffed, though his tone is easy-going as he breaks the silence.

"Do you ever wear something besides tank tops?" With a frown, she looks down at the white tank top and pink shorts she had on, finding nothing wrong with them considering the late hour.

"The only people I see are criminals and delivery boys, Grady," she reminds him as she looks back up, stepping to the side so that he could come inside. "Why shouldn't I be comfortable at all times?" Grady steps inside, running bloody fingers through his dark hair and mussing the locks. Seph kicks the door shut and makes her way into the kitchen, grabbing her kit down from one of the cabinets where most people would probably store plates.

"Mind if I use your bathroom? I drove straight here from Pearl's."

"Go on, but don't touch anything if you don't need to." She didn't like having people running loose in her apartment, it made her itch. Grady holds up a hand and gives a smile, one that would probably have women swooning as long as they had no clue about what he did for a living or his usual personality. "And don't leave the toilet seat up!"

"Yes, mum," he calls mockingly from down the hall. Seph grumbles under her breath, working on sterilizing a needle while waiting on him to return. He would linger as long as possible, if for no other reason than to get on her nerves. Grady seemed to like seeing her riled up, though she doubted he'd ever admit to it. No, that would mean that the unfeeling monster actually had a hobby that wasn't dismantling rival crime organizations or enduring hours of torture while singing things that were better left to cartoons.

"Hurry up or I'll make you do some blood work!" That got the reaction she wanted, the toilet flushing a second later followed by the scuff of his boots against her wood floors. She would have to clean tomorrow, erase the black marks he was undoubtedly going to leave behind. Just something else to add to the growing list of reasons why I should just dope him up with Morphine and leave him somewhere deserted.

"Do you realize you've got a man bleeding out in your bathtub?" He was pointing with his thumb over his shoulder as he came into the kitchen, not looking anything more than perplexed.

"He was talkin' to police officers, so I got a text saying to take care of him. Lovely man, our boss." Grady shrugs a shoulder, removing his shirt and collapsing in one of two kitchen chairs at the table.

"You didn't get one of those messages on me, did you?"

"If I had, you'd know it by now. I'm not a very subtle woman when it comes to murder."

"And yet you have a needle ready."

"Just in case." She pulls on a pair of latex gloves, hating the feel of them against her skin but hating the feel of warm blood even more. And, with Grady, there was always plenty of blood to worry about. One of the more severe cases of CIPA, he could never guarantee the true extent of his injuries. Once, he'd showed up complaining about a possible elbow fracture and had ended up sleeping on her couch for a month because of three broken ribs. "What happened to your hand?"

"One of the guys liked the idea of nailing me." He holds up his left hand, a dime-sized hole going straight through the palm and one of the veins. "He succeeded, too. Speaking of which, great job with that phone call. You were right on time, Seph."

"I always am." She made it a point to be, unable to stand the thought of a schedule being disrupted. "Is all of this your blood this time?"

"No, I stabbed Pearl with the nail while it was still in my hand. Worked wonders on getting the other three suitably terrified." Seph allows her head to drop for a moment, wondering when Grady would make her job easier. Just once I'd like him to show up with a bottle of vodka and say that he's completely fine.

"You'll need to get tested once I'm done here."

"But, Seph—"

"You can do it for free at one of those clinics downtown or you can pay me three hundred bucks to get it done right."

"That's a bit expensive."

"So's my time." She pulls on his wrist until he stands and walks with her over to the sink, staying there obediently as she fetches a bottle of whisky from the freezer. "Alright, hold your hand over the sink." He does as asked, watching with vague interest as she quickly washed the dried blood off with some cold water and then dumped nearly half the bottle of booze over the open wound.

"That would hurt someone else, wouldn't it?"

"They'd be a writhing mess on the floor," Seph confirms with a nod. "Either way, it's satisfying for me."

"I'm starting to see why you were turned away from medical school." She shrugs, examining the wound again now that it was clearer. "How's it looking?" She gives an uncommitted grunt in answer, pulling him back over to the table and sitting down in the free chair while he did the same. "How long will it take this time?"

"For me to finish the examination or for you to be released?"

"Both."

"Twenty minutes for the first and no less than two months for the second." He lets out a whining groan, throwing his head back dramatically right as she was about to poke the needle through his skin. "Easy! You make me fuck this up and I'll make sure you're down for a year!"

"You're no fun."

"I'm a doctor, I'm not paid to be fun." He grins, fingers not even twitching as she started to stitch the wound shut, finishing it up quickly enough before pressing a Steri-Strip on either side of the wound. "When you take a shower, put on one of those clear bandages I've got in the cabinet over your sink until the strips come off on their own."

"I know, I know. I have done this before."

"Yes, but you're also impatient, so there's a need to remind you of what I'll do if you don't follow orders." She grabs the right hand, prodding at the thumb. "That's throw out your hair care products, by the way. Don't fuck with me."

"Again, I know this already." He hadn't believed her when she first started working in California seven years ago, but he knew how petty she could be now. "I had to dislocate it to get out of handcuffs," he says at her inquiring look. She makes a noise, popping it back into place before examining the knuckles. Nothing too bad there, just badly bruised. She continues through the list of things that needed to be examined, even checking his temperature before she was satisfied.

"Alright, I'll just take some blood and then you can do whatever it is you do after murdering a crime boss."

"I usually like to watch reruns."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me." She ties a band around his arm before grabbing a needle from her kit, carefully inserting it into the crook of Grady's arm until she felt the slight resistance of entering the vein and a small bit of blood appearing. Even with her patient watching like a hawk, she didn't get the slightest bit nervous and inserted one of two vials to catch the blood. "I'll have these dropped off tomorrow and you can expect results by Wednesday at the latest."

"Since you insist on being a vampire tonight, can I at least crash on your couch?"

"If you feel you must." She pulls the tourniquet off and slides in the second vial, waiting for it to fill up before removing the needle. "Tape some gauze over that while I throw this out." She puts the used needle in a plastic container that hung above her trash can, careful not to prick herself.

"I'll get the blankets out of the closet." Having Grady stay at her house for the night wasn't a new thing, but it still felt weird that he knew where she kept spare blankets when most of the people in her life didn't even know her real name. Seph, puts the vials in her refrigerator and grabs the booze again, carrying it with her back into the living room. "Hey, where'd you hide my pillow?"

"Under the mermaid blanket!" He comes out of the hall a moment later with his arms full, quickly fixing his makeshift bed before the two of them fell onto the couch and he grabbed up the remote. "So, did you annoy your captors with music again," she asks after a while, snuggled into his side as he flipped through the channels.

"Hello, my baby," he sings, off-key and obnoxious," hello, my honey. Hello, my ragtime gal!"

"Why do you always go with show tunes when you're being tortured? Why not something a little more modern?"

"And what would you sing while your bones are being systematically crushed?" Seph's eyes never leave the TV screen, chewing on her bottom lip until a familiar tune begins to play as doctors pass an X-ray around.

"The Scrubs theme song," she states, nodding.

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever have to rescue you, Seph."