Foreign (Tomtord)

Cleanup

<Pat's POV>

Looks like he's not much of a talker.. Not like I could understand him well if he did.. He spoke English when he first woke up.. Not very well English. I wrap some bandage around his head.

"Welp. Will you let me take a look at your ribs?" I asked, gesturing to the table once more.

He obviously doesn't want to get on the table for some reason.. "Hmm.." I glance around the room to find something I could use. I look back down at the boy. "Could you roll your shirt up?" I point to his shirt.

<Tord's POV>

Does he want to check my ribs? I reluctantly roll my shirt up.

Chicken wings crouches in front of me again and runs his finger along my ribs until he hits the one that really hurts and a throw a death glare at him.

Its fun scaring this guy. He seems startled by the slightest things I do.

<Pat's POV>

Am I gonna die? I can feel the sweat build up on my forehead as I give a slight cough and stand back up. I wipe my forehead. Holy shit.. This kid has the stare of a grim reaper. It looks like he's gonna kill me in two seconds.. I really need Paul right now. I give a shuddered sigh.

I look back at the boy and he seems to be grinning. Is he doing this on purpose? I give a little cough, "L-looks like you have 2 broken ribs.." I give him a shy smile.

I pull a walkie talkie out of my pocket and punch some numbers in before saying, "I need Dct. Kyle in the infirmary please." I wait a couple minutes before a brown haired man in a white cloak walks in.

"Yes?" He says questionably .

"He's got two broken ribs.." I retorted quickly.

"Oh? Let me have a look." He stated.

"Uh- B-be careful.. He's not very happy." I quickly stated.

"I've probably dealt with worse." He smiled. He then looked over at the boy who wasn't amused.

"Lemme see." He gestures to Tords shirt once again.

"He doesn't speak or understand English well." I say.

"Ah, ok."

Tord raises his shirt to show his ribs once again. And the doctor runs his finger along until he hits the one that makes Tord glare once again.

<Dct. POV>

I inhale sharply when I see his gaze. Pat really wasn't joking huh.. Well he definitely has broken ribs.

"He doesn't want to get on the table" Pat says from behind me.

"uh huh.. so, Tord? is it?" The young boy continues to glare at me. "I'm going to need you to get on that table." I point over to the table and his gaze follows my finger to where it was pointing before he shakes his head and crosses arms.

I sigh, "I need to heal your bones. Or do you want them to heal incorrectly..?"

He gives a defeated grunt before standing up and heading over to the table, reluctantly climbing onto it and laying down on it.

"There we go.. Now. Hold still." I tell him sternly.

He grunts in confirmation.

a/n Thank you all for reading this part :) This was just as fun as the last one! feel free for more helping me with errors!