Twenty minutes later, another figure stood in her doorway, this one with a
bag crinkling noisily on his arm. She grinned at him as he tossed the bag
on the bed next to her, before he fished out a bag of plain potato chips
for himself. She offered the bottle of soda to him, and he shook his head,
before she opened the top and took a swig straight out of the large bottle.
"Do you always do that?" he asked her, as he collapsed on the chair next to
the bed.
"Only when I don't have to be civilized." He laughed, and she tore into her bag of Doritos. She looked at him for a minute. "What happened to your arm?" He flexed the prothestic that he had, and looked at her for a long minute. She saw the look on his face, and blanched. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me." He shrugged a slight bit.
"A word of advice, don't bend down in front of a helicopter."
"Advice taken. And don't try to put on makeup while flying a plane. Especially not through turbulence."
"Is that what happened to you?" She nodded. "I was so busy trying to make myself look good that I came thisclose," she gestured with her thumb and forefinger, "to killing myself. Why were you bending over in front of one of those horrible, bouncing things?"
"Picking up a patient's chart that dropped." She nodded. "At least you're still a doctor." The look on his face told her she shouldn't of said that. "At least you have a steady job."
"In this hellhole."
"How long have you been a doc?"
"Almost twenty years."
"And you still think of this place as a hellhole."
"I used to be a surgeon."
"Oh, Mr. high and mighty I take it. No wonder you hate it down here, you're used to people already shut up and cleaned up." He laughed at how true the statement was.
"I don't like it when my patients can talk. Especially when they can smart mouth me."
"Ah, but it's so much more fun." He glared at her.
"You speak Hungarian?"
"Well,, not fluently, but enough to get by."
"What else can you say?"
"Buzmeg." She said, as Luka waltzed in. He laughed, and glared at her.
"Was that directed at me, or him?" she thought for a moment, before gesturing with her head towards Romano.
"Him." they shared a laugh, follwed by another at the short doctor's puzzled look.
"Do I want to know what that means?" Romano asked, and she looked at him.
"Probably not." The older doctor looked at Luka to see if he would tell him the meaning of the word.
"Should I tell him?" She shrugged.
"Go ahed, this should be classic."
"Well, what does it mean?" Romano asked again, impatiently waiting for the meaning of the word. Selma offered Luka the soda, and he took a small sip out of the bottle, the same way she drank from it. Luka purposely paused as long as possible to irritate the already irate doctor, before grinning.
"To put it eloquently, it means 'F-you'" Both Luka and Selma laughed at their own little joke, and Romano simply looked annoyed, before he smiled slightly.
"How do you say it, buzzmeck?"
"Meg, buzmeg."
"Must remember that. Always useful to insult people in languages that they don't understand."
"It is, isn't it." She yawned openly. She hadn't gotten any real sleep since before she came into the ER, the most she had was the drug induced haze, which didn't account for much.
"Tired?" Luka asked her as he checked the burn on her leg.
"Yeah."
"Well then, get some sleep, I got you a slot for physical therapy tomorrow." She nodded, and leaned back in the bed, allowing sleep to wash over her, as the two doctors that were in her room left her in peace.
"Only when I don't have to be civilized." He laughed, and she tore into her bag of Doritos. She looked at him for a minute. "What happened to your arm?" He flexed the prothestic that he had, and looked at her for a long minute. She saw the look on his face, and blanched. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me." He shrugged a slight bit.
"A word of advice, don't bend down in front of a helicopter."
"Advice taken. And don't try to put on makeup while flying a plane. Especially not through turbulence."
"Is that what happened to you?" She nodded. "I was so busy trying to make myself look good that I came thisclose," she gestured with her thumb and forefinger, "to killing myself. Why were you bending over in front of one of those horrible, bouncing things?"
"Picking up a patient's chart that dropped." She nodded. "At least you're still a doctor." The look on his face told her she shouldn't of said that. "At least you have a steady job."
"In this hellhole."
"How long have you been a doc?"
"Almost twenty years."
"And you still think of this place as a hellhole."
"I used to be a surgeon."
"Oh, Mr. high and mighty I take it. No wonder you hate it down here, you're used to people already shut up and cleaned up." He laughed at how true the statement was.
"I don't like it when my patients can talk. Especially when they can smart mouth me."
"Ah, but it's so much more fun." He glared at her.
"You speak Hungarian?"
"Well,, not fluently, but enough to get by."
"What else can you say?"
"Buzmeg." She said, as Luka waltzed in. He laughed, and glared at her.
"Was that directed at me, or him?" she thought for a moment, before gesturing with her head towards Romano.
"Him." they shared a laugh, follwed by another at the short doctor's puzzled look.
"Do I want to know what that means?" Romano asked, and she looked at him.
"Probably not." The older doctor looked at Luka to see if he would tell him the meaning of the word.
"Should I tell him?" She shrugged.
"Go ahed, this should be classic."
"Well, what does it mean?" Romano asked again, impatiently waiting for the meaning of the word. Selma offered Luka the soda, and he took a small sip out of the bottle, the same way she drank from it. Luka purposely paused as long as possible to irritate the already irate doctor, before grinning.
"To put it eloquently, it means 'F-you'" Both Luka and Selma laughed at their own little joke, and Romano simply looked annoyed, before he smiled slightly.
"How do you say it, buzzmeck?"
"Meg, buzmeg."
"Must remember that. Always useful to insult people in languages that they don't understand."
"It is, isn't it." She yawned openly. She hadn't gotten any real sleep since before she came into the ER, the most she had was the drug induced haze, which didn't account for much.
"Tired?" Luka asked her as he checked the burn on her leg.
"Yeah."
"Well then, get some sleep, I got you a slot for physical therapy tomorrow." She nodded, and leaned back in the bed, allowing sleep to wash over her, as the two doctors that were in her room left her in peace.
