Gin Mills and the Goods

interlude: down to your blood type

Dovey has never seen such a bizarre assembly of people.

She opens the door to the waiting room and stares at the cluster of flappers and one boy sat there. They're all muddy, three or four of them are covered in blood, but they're all talking in furious whispers.

"Er." She says. "Excuse me?"

Several heads whip round. The albino girl starts to stand up.

"The young lady with the grazed side is fine. We can probably discharge her tonight."

Slowly, the albino girl sinks back into her seat, looking relieved.

"As for the young gentleman, however... he's lost a lot of blood. He'll need a blood transfusion. Is anyone here related to him?"

There's an awkward pause. It appears not, although they'd all claimed the contrary on their way in-- that's his sister, we're his cousins-- oh, and that's his girl.

Dovey purses her lips.

"Does anyone know their blood type, then? His is A+--"

"Mine is A+." Says someone behind her. Dovey turns to see the tall, severe girl-- "his girl"-- staring at her. She looks oddly familiar. It unsettles Dovey slightly, but she's got more important things to worry about.

"Good." She says briskly. "Come with me then, dear, we'll check you over, I'll ask you a few questions--"

She trails off as the girl strips off her muddied gloves, tangled pearls and ripped coat, revealing a tattooed back and arms. Suddenly, it occurs to Dovey to wonder exactly how the two patients had been shot.

But, then again, it's not her job to wonder

The girl remains silent, which isn't unusual on the whole, but generally surprising for girlfriends. Usually, girlfriends cry. Or wail. Or demand to be allowed in--

"What's the damage?"

They usually don't ask that, and definitely not that coolly.

Dovey eyes her suspiciously as she heads over.

"He was lucky, really. The bone is mostly intact-- though fractured in multiple places, there's no compound fracture, and both bullets just missed an artery. Hit several major veins though, and were a pain to remove, I hear. The surgeons say it will probably take a couple of months until he's walking properly again, and he'll probably always limp."

Something works in the girl's jaw. To Dovey's eyes, there's a moment where she looks almost murderous.

She murmurs something Dovey doesn't catch, but sounds like I, or eye.

"What's that, dear?"

"Nothing. I understand. Shall we go?"

Dovey looks behind her, at the anxious cluster of faces.

"Aggie." Says one of the girls slowly. "Are you sure you want to--"

"I'll be fine." Snaps Aggie. It's clear that it's not up for debate.

Dovey raises her eyebrows, but the younger girl doesn't stop, or hesitate, and she holds the door open for Dovey on her way out.