Play@YSDC

The guy swears at him as he struggles to walk in the direction of Accident & Emergency, the pain making him nearly black out on several occasions. Inside, he sees the rush and tumble of a swirl of injured, sick, and perhaps even poisoned, patients, and a swarm of uniformed individuals rushing between them.

The bloodied Scotsman takes a measure of comfort from the surly taxi driver's pique and grits his teeth as he works the bloody steak knife free of his his clavicle. His eyes cast about for a trash can or sewer grate to dispose of the weapon.

His injured arm spasms with raw agony that runs down the nerves to his fingers that twitch with a jolt as the blade is pulled free. Then the arm goes entirely numb and he can't feel his fingers as the warm, thick blood flows down his wound to soak his shirt. There is a bin, topped with an ash tray, near the front pillar of A&E. His vision swims, goes blurry, and he can feel his heart beat as though it were the air itself pulsing around him.

Magnus disposes of the bloodied weapon in the convenient trash receptacle and melodramatically staggers through the awaiting hospital doors clutching his wound with a cry of "Doktor! Doktor!"

The Accident & Emergency area is filled with movement. The waiting area is full of seats upon which a number of people sit. A woman, her skirt flecked with blood in evidence of rape. A man with a broken nose, cradles his face in a wadded up tissue that already drips. A triage nurse surveys the scene, moving up to the new arrivals and quickly checking to see who should move ahead in the queue and who should wait. Finally, she moves up to him and sees the blood pouring down. After a quick inspection, she points him to a recently cleared seat after ascertaining that he didn't speak German.

Sensing his opportunity, the Scotsman clutches his wound and flops at the feet of the triage nurse, his right leg twitching spasmodically. A low moan escapes his lips as he feigns unconsciousness.

His twitches almost ring of authenticity but not quite. She gives him a droll look and then turns to the next patient who enters. Magnus' phone starts ringing.

OOC: One off on your Persuade check. There's no skill to cover Acting, so I picked the highest out of Fast Talk or Persuade.

OOC: NP, let me know so I can roll next time.

Muttering and cursing under his breath, Magnus struggles to a sitting position, in his blood and perspiration slick leather and PVC resembling a beached walrus. Fishing the phone out of his pocket he expectorates in annoyance: " 'Oo the devil is this!?"

The sounds that come from the phone sound like hell itself.

The sound chills him to his core but his mind manages to cope with the influx of noise.

His eyes dart to the caller ID. "Oo's this?! Now's not the time to be having a laugh!"

The caller ID is Withheld. It's no one's number he recognizes.

Angrily snapping the phone shut, Magnus bellows at the inattentive hospital staff: "Jaysus! You fascists, I'm fooking dying here!"

The nurses and doctors start to give him an even wider berth, even as the blood starts pumping furiously from his neck, propelled by his anger in tiny little spurts that make him dizzy. He swoons and is led to a seat by a woman's hand. When his vision clears, he sees a pale, skinny woman with dull blue eyes pressing a scarf to his wound. "I can fix a bit," she offers, in heavily accented English.

Ever the cad, Magnus appraises the physical features of his new, erstwhile Florence Nightengale and tries to identify her accent. "Danke, frauleine," he murmurs, his pulsating wound dampening his libido.

It sounds like a German accent. She has a round face with small eyes and she most certainly doesn't have curves in all the right places. She gives a little nod and then heads off to go bully one of the nurses in German.

At a loss as to what to do, the wounded Highlander, sags helplessly into his chair and presses the proffered scarf to his wound. Watching the un-comely yet helpful stranger bustle about the ER room, Magnus charitably muses: " I s'pose I've shagged worse..."

Seeing nothingand hearing nothing out of the ordinary, Magnus sits down while the strange woman tries unsuccessfully to help him.

"Will it now done," says the triage nurse briskly to him in broken english before walking off. She pauses a few feet away, turns, and taps her foot impatiently.

Puzzled, Magnus attempts to discern the nurse's intention.

OOC: Do you mind if I make the die rolls for my character? I'm old school that way.
Would this be an idea roll or psyche roll?

Feeling light headed due to his trauma and blood loss, Magnus stands up uncertainly, the nurse's intentions inscrutable to him.

The triage nurse gives him a foul look and flaps her hand upwards, talking in a rapid clip in German.