xp_logs | Hank & Cammie: Poisonous Tongue

Cammie finally goes to the MedLab for her routine toxic milking and ends up matching wits with Hank.

Cammie was a regular visitor to the medlab. But for reasons that had nothing to do with the injuries she could get from fighting or had gotten in the past. She was a regular subject of tests, mostly to monitor her toxicity levels. And to have a place where she could discharge excess toxin without killing someone or having to contaminate ground water.

This would be her first trip down here for all the tests since Dr. Grey had left. This was going to be interesting, she thought, as she strolled down to medical.

"One walking plague to see you," she called out sweetly.

Hank was just packing things up to leave for the day when the green haired woman walked through the doors as they whooshed out of her way. Inwardly he cringed slightly, walking plagues never really being a good thing and his experience with them being even worse. After a moment had passed he was able to proceed as he'd recognized her as, "Miss Black, I've been expecting you, though I will say you are a tad overdue for your routine toxicological exam." Hank opened up his tattered black briefcase and pulled out his netbook, looking up her patient file, which he'd reviewed upon arrival.

"Sorry," Cammie said, "I forgot," she said. It was half true, "I mean, this is such a boatload of fun," she said sarcastically.

"It may not be fun, Miss Black, but it's very necessary. I read up on what happened in Houston- bad bit of luck that, but it should prove my point rather succinctly." Hank briskly walked over the special equipment storage, taking out the specially built machine for this purpose. "Need me to walk you through this?"

"No. I stick my arm in, poison comes out," Cammie said simply, "That poison is then used to kill countless, happy children the world over. Or is this the wrong spy movie?"

With a stifled snort of appreciation for her snark, Hank helped rig the machine up and turn it on. "I understand your reluctance in this routine task," the blue doctor tried to console. "Mutations like this can be, burdensome."

"You don't know the half of it," Cammie said, starting to unwrap her arm. Under the bindings the flesh went from light green by her shoulder to dark green down at the fingertips.

Hank brought the chamber over and clamped it to the table, "Have you been having any extraneous pain associated with your arm?"

"I don't let it fill up enough to hurt," she said simply, the increased flow of blood with the bandages off came with an increased flow of toxins. It made control a lot harder, but she managed, "And even if it hurt, I'd deal with it." It wasn't like she could take two aspirin and be all shiny and new.

Fastening the device to her arm, Hank connected one of the vacuum hoses to the end of the containment unit. "Alright, I think you know how this works, is it too loose?"

"Yeah. You practically have to cut off blood flow," she said simply.

"Sorry, but you know it has to be tight," Hank turned on the suction pump. "Whenever you're ready."

"Yeah, I get that," Cammie said and waited a moment before she let go. It always felt like something rushing down her arm, just under the skin. After four years, it had stopped feeling extremely wrong and creepy. It just was what happened. She put out as much as she could. It did have to last, after all.

The containment unit was capped off once the green liquidate substance stopped flowing. Hank removed the tank and scribbled a label with the date on it. As he was putting it away, "So, Miss Green, would you like to schedule your next appointment for two weeks from now?"

"How about I just come down here when I feel about ready to pop?" Cammie returned, "I mean, this isn't it like a doctor's office. I know where you are. You know where I am."

Hank sighed, "Miss Black, if you would like to keep to that system, I'd be more comfortable if you'd come down more frequently."

"Hey, I know my own limits. And you can give the 'Miss Black' thing a rest," she added.

"As you wish, do you prefer Carmilla or something else?" Hank helped her take the apparatus off- gently loading it back into the specialized equipment locker.

“Cammie,” she said simply, “No one calls me Carmilla. And I need new bandages,” she added. The ones she had removed from her arm were tinged suspiciously green.

"Cammie it is then," Hank smiled at his difficult patient and removed a roll of wrappings from the cabinet near-by. Moving with the grace and quickness of an expert, Hank began re-wrapping her arm, "So, Cammie, tell me a little bit about yourself."

“It needs to be tighter,” Cammie said as he started to wrap her arm up, “And hmmm, a bit about myself, let’s see… I’m five hundred feet tall and routinely destroy Tokyo.”

"That would explain the green skin and scaly demeanor," Hank snarked back with a wry chuckle.

“Yeah, once you know what to look for it’s totally obvious,” Cammie returned.

"Any tail irritation? I have a cream I could prescribe for it," Hank shook his head, this girl would be a terror in his life and he knew it; but he still had that pranksterish side to himself that allowed him to match witts with her. It was simply buried beneath his newly found paternal instincts.

“Nah, my building smashing days are done. Not nearly enough money in the overgrown lizard business.”

Finishing the wrappings, "How does that feel? Snug enough for the King of Monsters?"

Cammie wiggled her fingers, “Yeah, that will do. At least for awhile.”

"You'll come back if you feel yourself getting too full again?" Hank confirmed, eager to be done for the day.

“That does seem to be more legal than taking it out on someone,” Cammie returned, “So yeah.”

"Excellent," Hank smiled, taking the purple surgical gloves off his hands. "I think we're finished here then, unless you have some burning inquiry you'd like to thrash me with."

“Yeah,” she said with a crooked grin, “How long does it take you to wash your hair?” the tone was light, joking.