xp_logs | Mutants and Molotovs

During the rioting, Clarice helps respond with RedX. Unsurprisingly, she has to deal with people from both sides of the rioting, but maybe, just maybe, she can get through to someone without violence. And a little glitter ;)

Clarice pushed the curtain back in the makeshift triage center distracted from reading the information on a clipboard in one hand. "So, Mr. Long..." she began, not really looking at him. According to the all-knowing clipboard, he'd been knocked down in the riot and the doctor who had seen him earlier suspected a concussion. It was now Clarice's job to clean the gash in his forehead and see if he needed any stitches.

"Oh fuck no!" he declared, starting to get off the chair he was seated on, "No fucking mutie is coming near me!"

She looked at him blankly over the clipboard before reaching up to turn her RedX baseball hat around so the logo was in front. "I'm not a 'mutie'," she replied calmly as if this were a common mistake anyone could have made, "I have a rare skin disease called "puerperal sepsis."

Internally she was seething, but that wouldn't do anyone any good. She wouldn't be able to treat him, remain objective with anyone else and she would just end up justifying his hatred. Didn't mean it didn't hurt though.

"'Puerperal sepsis?'" he asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word, unsure now if she was telling the truth. "That's not...contagious?" he asked, cautiously still suspicious.

"Of course not," she replied, smearing betadine on his cuts and pulling sterlized tweezers of the plastic case, "But I don't get it. Why do you hate mutants? Whatd they do to you?"

That was the right, or wrong depending on your point of view, thing to ask as he launched into a tirade against mutants, gesturing wildly and getting himself more and more excited. Obviously, he was very passionate with his hatred. If only he had that passion for something slightly less prejudiced, like finger painting.

Clarice nodded along, pretending to care when in truth, all she wanted to do was be rid of the man. She picked some dirt and debris out of his cuts none too gently. This was Clarice being unopinionated and treating everyone equally. Oh yes.

"Well, here's something to think about, Mr. Long," she said as she finished bandaging his head. He didn't need stitches. "A mutant just treated your cuts, despite you getting hurt in an anti-mutant riot. And I'd do it again. Puerperal sepsis is an infection after childbirth...it just sounds like 'purple.'"

He stared at her dumbfounded for a minute while she cleaned up, before trying to launch himself to tackle her. Clarice deftly sidestepped so he could not get a good grip on her and pushed him back down. Despite being significantly larger than her, she had no difficulties thanks to the self-defense classes Xavier's offered and her medic training for making difficult patients sit down.

"Stay down," she advised, her voice cold, "You'll start bleeding again and I don't want to get your blood on my t-shirt when I make you sit down again," she paused as she headed out of the little cubicle type room, "The next time you decide to beat up on mutants, think about this. I helped you even though I knew coming in here you hated mutants. But I don't hate you, I pity you. I pity your fear and your ignorance. And because of that, I help you even while you want to kill me."