As his feet once again hit pavement, Tito leaned against the door frame and coughed violently. After running for the better part of two hours, the assassin had made it to a place where he could rest. The burn on his leg was oozing because of the exertion he had put on it, and he needed a bit of assistance.

His gloved hand beat against the door desperately. "Dr. Mottoni..." he hissed into the cracks as he continued to knock.

Ivan would normally be awake around the 1st house, reading or crunching through some new codes. The events of the day had left him utterly spent, however, and he was gratefully passed out. Ever the light sleeper though, and the urgent knocking woke him quickly.

"Uuuaaaghhh. It never rains but it pours..."

Ivan half crawled off the sofa into a semi ready state. He donned his dressing gown, slippers and perched his empty pipe in his mouth.



As he reached the lower stairs he heard his name. Realising it was probably one of those medical thingies he squinted and blinked away his weariness, and set down an oil lamp on a shelf nearby, adjusting its brightness to suit the hour.

He opened the door.
"Yes? What do you want?"

The sentence wasn't ornate, but it was what he wanted to ask.

"I need some medical attention for a burn," Tito noticed the doctor's someone fatigued appearance and, being of similar disposition, got straight to the point. As he spoke, he flashed the man a look of his leg. There was a large hole in his pants above the would, the edges of which were beginning to fuse in the sticky ooze.

"Alioe, you look like bander droppings. Come inside quickly!"

Ivan was no longer weary. A familiar kind of adrenaline rush hit him which happened whenever he was required to do important work. He supressed the urge to spout long words for what he was doing and what was happening, which was a tremendous feat for a doctor.

He motioned for the man to go through to the examination room, where the equipment was nearer to hand. It did look bad.

He didn't really need to ask, but he did anyway for thoroughness.

"Have you been running on that? How long since you were burned?"

Ivan fetched the knife, the brandy, the cork, the ice bucket, the salt, the bandages, gauze, sutures, hose, and post operation pain medication while he waited for a response. The things were largely together already; many had come in with burns that day.

"Aye, for about two hours." Tito responded, stifling a yawn. Already his heart was beginning to slow from it's frenzied exertion and the adrenaline within him ebb. There was no pain coming from his leg, but a constant throb let him know that his limb was displeased at its misuse.

Following the doctor inside, Tito slid his mask into a pouch on his back and sat down. With a sigh, he lifted his leg up to allow Ivan easier access.

Ivan carefully lifted the leg to rest the heel on a low wooden stool, ensuring any fabric that was fusing to the wound was not disturbed. He grabbed the knife and carefully exposed the burn and a few inches surrounding it. It wasn't too dirty for a two hour run, and Ivan hoped the salty sweat had at least gone some way to delaying infection. One problem though was there appeared to be some grit in the wound, and that would have to come out first.

Ivan positioned a drainage bucket under the wound, and connected the hand hose to the sink across the room. He set the pressure to low, and poured all the ice that remained in the jug, chipped from the block in the cellar, into the tank. He dropped a fistful of salt into the tank. The purpose of the salt was to quickly melt the ice, as well as greatly lowering the temperature of the fluid. The disinfectant property was a bonus, as well as the fact that it stung.

Ivan unscrewed a squeaky handle on the hose and the water began to flow out, thickly but gently. He aimed it over the burn and tilted it so as to dislodge the stuck clothing gently and coax out the particles.

"Hold this, please." Ivan gave the hose to the man, who looked fit enough to not be in risk of going into shock.
"wash it for ten minutes, or until the water runs out. It'll reduce the swelling. I will prepare the bandage." Confident his patient could hold a hose still for a few minutes, Ivan prepared the next step; disinfecting the wound. He poured three tall shots of brandy.

"How did you get this wound, may I ask?"

Tito raised an eyebrow as the man scurried to work like an ant with a mission. The wash introduced the first bit of pain he had experienced so far. The smell of salt was strangely sharp to him. As the Dr. Mottoni asked if he could handle the hose, he nodded briefly and took the apparatus from him.


"I got a little careless with a candle," Tito smirked at the good doctor. For minute, he squinted as he caught a glimpse of Ivan's profile. "You look strangely familiar."

Ivan smirked back.
Keep your secrets then.

"Familiar, you say? There are few with a countenance like mine, though I can't think where we might have met. Have you been in Vienda long?"

The water ran out. Time for the next step.

"Right, before we move on to the next step, I want to confirm with you this. You do not wish for me to amputate the leg, yes? I will do as you ask, but people tend to ask it of me during the next stage."

Ivan handed one shot of brandy to the man, and downed another himself. He held the third shot ready.

"Hehe, you'd assume right. I would rather not lose one of my only two legs..."

As the doctor got to work, Tito frowned at the brandy and set it aside, smirking as he anticipated what he would do with the third shot. Pain, he could deal with. Getting a little tipsy? That could kill him.

Thinning his eyes, he regarded Ivan closely. Suddenly it dawned on him. "Ah..." So that's who you are, Dr. Mottoni. How... Interesting. "No, I've only been in Vienda for about a month, I'd remember if I'd seen you around... And unless I saw you in my traveling days, the only other place could have been... Old Rose Harbor."

Ivan poured the shot into the wound, then grabbed the one the man had not drank, and poured the contents of that too. It would hurt like all hell, but Ivan felt threatened, and it would be advantageous if the man was preoccupied by pain.

"Who are you? Speak!"

The combination of stress, shock and dehydration had prevented Tito from feeling the full pain of pouring salt water onto his wound. The same could not be said for the alcohol that had just been poured onto his open wound.

Every muscle in his body clenched. A haunted moan forced its way past his lips, culminating in a series of pained gasps for air. The nerves along his leg exploded in fiery sensation. Tito had to gulp in oxygen just to quell the urge to vomit. It was like some was digging a knife into his leg and gouging away. His entire body felt weak. He desperately wanted to not be awake anymore.

The agony was not going to go away.

And neither was Ivan.

Tito hissed as the brandy soaked into the flesh of the wound. However, he could not help laughing, somewhat giddy as the flash of pain took its toll and the weariness that perforated his bones began to set in. "Tito the Purple, at your service!"

Ivan smiled broadly, for the first time that day.

"So, tell me, Mister Purple. What's a Harbour man doing running around in Vienda with second degree burns?"

He grabbed a piece from the waning supply of gauze.

"And where, pray tell, do you think you might have seen me at Old Rose Harbour?"

He held the gauze above the wound, making it clear he wasn't finishing up until he knew what Tito knew, or thought he knew, and what he planned to do with that knowledge.

"Hehe, well, one question gives rise to the other." Leaning back comfortably, Tito rolled his head to the side and looked down his noes at the doctor. "You see, I recognize your face from Camera Spectra pictures in a... Bad Brothers Pledge Book. You could say that I went rogue a short time after that and came here to Vienda... only a month ago, like I said. And that in one way or another led to my activities the night prior to this morn whereupon I was viciously injured as I carried out my business."

Tito looked thoughtful for a moment, the wick's eyes virtually unreadable, "Gotta say, you don't have the look about you as though you're still one of the brothers. It's somewhat encouraging to see someone else also got out, I must admit."

He sighed.
Might as well admit it.

"There aren't many ways to leave the Brothers. In fact, there are only two. The hard way, and dead."

Ivan dressed the wound.

"So, why did you leave? Oh and please try to keep your voice low, someone's asleep upstairs."

"Dze..." The shady wick turned his head to the side slightly, his voice already finding a lower level--one usually reserved for particularly seedy discussions. "There were quite a few contributors, but... let's say I was born a nomad, and I was getting unsettled. Then again, I've always had a nose for trouble, and it was beginning to stink in Old Rose... Something ain't right, I'd bet a concord on it."

"Thankee for the late-night attention," He said reaching behind his back and withdrew three shills. "I have cash, and I'd thank you not to remember me? Maybe a 'professional' courtesy?"

(( EDIT: I totally meant Shills not Tallies... >_< ))

Ivan nodded. It seemed at least the Harbour man still knew how to pay a good turn.

"I didn't see you, you didn't see me. In fact, I'm still asleep."

Ivan turned to the staircase, letting Tito leave of his own accord.

"If you want me to take another look at it and change the dressing, I suggest you don't turn up in 2-3 days. If you're not in the area, that is."

((LOL @ currency. Here's what this post used to say:
______________________________________

Ivan frowned and looked more than a little insulted.

"My professional courtesy costs a bit more than three tallies. In fact, the brandy cost more than that. Do you think I would wake up in the middle of the night for three tallies?"))