Bargain Basement Healer


abby_icon.gif bebe_icon.gif

Scene Title Bargain Basement Healer
Synopsis Bebe gets dumped in the basement, Abby fixes her. Ginseng Tea and Tree Lizard Soup is her thanks.
Date February 14, 2009

The Happy Dagger - Basement Room

It's a bedroom, for all intents and purposes. There's even a window, although it's high up on the wall, and barred with grill and glass. Should someone peek, they'll only see dirty alley way and the flat, nondescript backdrop of a separate building beyond that. The room itself is bleak, if comfortable. The walls are cement and unpainted, the floor cheaply carpeted and the bed adequately dressed, a single thing pushed into the corner of the room. An empty book case gapes from the opposite wall, and a heavy oak trunk, something of an antique and actual worth, rests next to it, previously empty but now filled with at least most of the room occupant's belongings.

Two doors after that, one that stays locked and leads to out, wherever out is, and the other torn off its hinges to reveal a very basic, slightly rundown bathroom. But it works, hot water running at will, a working toilet, partially cracked mirror moderately clean, and towels and bare necessities provided.

It's designed for existing. But not much more than that.

Some Valentine's day. Instead of spending the Hallmark holiday cuddled up with her boyfriend, sipping champagne, and eating chocolate covered strawberries, Bebe spent the day bartering her fulfilling someone else's fantasies and nursing a gut full of glass. A street doctor had been called in and while she'd been stitched up, it was obvious that she was going to need much more serious medical attention if anyone wanted her to stick around.

The door that leads down into the basement is unlatched and a pair of heavy boots slowly tromp down step after step until, at last, a broad-shouldered man toting a limp-necked young woman in his arms comes into view. He lays the girl down onto the bed that Abby may just as well call her own, and says only, "Fix her." before limping back up the stairs. Jack's got a body to get rid of and Logan doesn't pay him to sit around and sob over his half-dead girlfriend.

Hello and welcome to life at the Happy Dagger!

The door was unlocking at not the usual time. She still had a watch. So Abby came out of the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, toothpaste foaming around said mouth and brush, staring at the woman they dropped on her bed. What in the lords name… Fix her? The blonde turns, spitting out her toothpaste and tucking the toothbrush back where she had it stowed so she could wash her hands quickly. "Whats your name?" Called out to the woman on her bed, judge how lucid the woman is. "Whats wrong with you?"

The petite brunette now sprawled over old blankets turns her head sleepily toward Abby and says in a quiet voice that's slightly slurred and suggests someone has given her pain killers, "Hiiii. 'M Bebe…" Which really sounds more like 'umbeebee'. "You're pretty." Aw. She even smiles for a moment before the expression melts into a horrible wince and her little hands flutter in a panic to her belly, concealed though it is beneath the slightly overlarge t-shirt she's been dressed in.

"Hi Bebe, I'm Abby" She shouldn't, she should just.. not heal this woman. Would serve them right for kidnapping her. Abigail mentally goes over this and that in her mind. Heal her? not heal her? as she moves from the bathroom to her bed. Lord could they have dressed the woman a little more. The throw at the foot of her bed's picked up, unfolded. "Guess Logan found a use for me finally huh? Don't worry, you'll be fit as a fiddle soon enough" Abby's voice falls soft, the southern drawl making it a soothing croon. Over the brunette's bare legs Abby lays the blanket while she sits on the side of the bed. "Can I look? So I know what I have to deal with?"

"Hiyabby…" At least she's friendly enough for someone who looks like she got thrown through a plate glass window. The cuts on her cheeks are still fresh and open but someone found the time to clean her up with a wash cloth before toting her downstairs because she isn't sporting any dried blood elsewhere. Still, it's apparent that Bebe's been through more than her fair share of something awful very recently.

Slowly, she draws her hand away from her middle and allows the woman to take a peek at what's been done. It is not pretty. She's sporting a C-shaped gash in her gut about as big around as a fist. It's been stitched but not well — the price you pay for a good street doctor at this hour on the Island is absolutely ungodly. "Aruadockter…?" Or, in English, 'are you a doctor?'

"Lord" Abby speaks it like a curse, pushing the shirt up gently to get a good look at Bebe. "No, not a doctor. But just as good, sometimes better. Glad they gave you something for the pain, because I can't do a single thing for it, but I'll have you right as rain Bebe okay? I promise. I need to touch you though, but I'll heal you, not even a scar. That okay with you?" Not that the woman's quite in a shape to give assent and Abby doesn't even wait, just lays a gentle palm over the stitching. Someone else will have to take that out later. Unless they opt to give her tweezers and some sewing scissors.

Thy name is my healing, O my God, and remembrance of Thee is my remedy. Nearness to Thee is my hope, and love for Thee is my companion. Thy mercy to me is my healing and my succor in both this world and the world to come. Thou, verily, art the All-Bountiful, the All-Knowing, the All-Wise." Abby spills the prayer from her lips and seconds after talking, so does Abby's healing as she clicks it to "outwards" instead of just to herself. Warmth spills from her hand, comfortable warmth, and a slight tingle, not uncomfortable as the healing hits her abdomen first from sheer placement of both of the blonde's hands, but will eventually make it's way to wherever else there are hurts, and scars or things for it to fix.

Bebe can't help but state at Abby while she works her mysterious and stitchy will, brown eyes all big and wide. She murmurs something incoherent and unintelligible that may not have even been in English and fights the urge to writhe and squirm beneath the slightly awkward and uncomfortable feeling coursing through her skin. When everything's said and done, Bebe's still a bit strung out but she's certainly no longer wounded; not a single scar or imperfection left to be found. One of her own hands joins Abby's down on her abdomen as she prods the tender flesh gingerly and then asks, "How did you… do that?"

'God did it Bebe. Your good as new. Can't do a thing for the drugs going through your blood, but i've burned off what's in your muscles and your mind and it's effect" Blue eyes watch the woman poke and prod, she herself satisfied with the work if not more than a little tired. Lines at the corners of her eyes now, weight on her shoulders. She's not consuming tons of coffee or red bull. Incarceration is great for detoxing a caffeine addiction. Not so.. when your needed to heal. Abby pulls her hand back, offering Bebe the shield of the blankets. "If you don't want to accept that answer, you can take the one the government says. I'm an evolved, with the ability to heal with a touch" Abby heaves herself up off the bed, so she can go wash her hands again. "If you lost a lot of blood, I can't help with that. Someone will need to take out the stitches, they don't let me have things like knives and scissors down here"

Yeah. There's an odd sensation; little loops of surgical thread left stitched in to her now-smooth skin. Bebe sits up tentatively, testing out the healer's efficiency and seemingly surprised at the results. Not even the barest hint of pain! (Of course, that double dose of Vicodin probably went a long way for the assist on that particular play.) "That's…" What's a good word here? "…amazing."

"Still amazes me every time" The tap in the bathroom turns on as Abby washes her hands. 'You can tell Logan that he owes me a red bull now. Kidnapped or not, that's what he owes me" A sour tired face. She shouldn't have done it. Now he has a whore back in one piece and she's still stuck down here. "Or at least a stupid cup of coffee for fixing you"

…what? A… Red Bull?? Bebe looks remarkably confused. However, for the sake of being friendly, she suggests, "I could get you some ginseng tea? From next door?" As if Abby knows there's a Chinese market just down the way.

"That.. that would work. Sorta. Something to replace the energy lost from healing you" Abby's not going to argue, though she spots the confused look when she looks into the mirror. "Bebe, I don't know where I am other than a bordello on Staten island. I was too 'happied' out from John Logan's touch. I'm stuck down here until Logan gets tired of me or Muldoon comes to make me an offer to come heal his fighters again. I said Logan owed me a red bull because I don't charge money for healing people with god's gift. I charge red bulls. Cause I go through them like crazy trying to fix peoples hurts and all that" She turns, coming out of the bathroom that has no door on it. There's some origami toilet paper swans on the back of the toilet. "So Ginseng tea, would be greatly appreciated, from wherever you scrounge it up. Or a bible. I'd settle for my bible" The little gold cross at her throat probably more evident now that there's no loose blonde curls to disguise it.

If Bebe knows where Abby's bible is, she betrays no shade of recognition in her expression. Ain't a lot of bibles here, lady, though there's an awful lot of praising God to be heard overhead. Luckily, the sweet, Southern Baptist is two floors below the brothel bedrooms, else she'd be intimately acquainted with all sorts of sordid things by audible proxy. Feeling a little more herself and fighting the seemingly awkward sensation of being alone in a room with another girl her age who isn't a whore, Bebe slowly slides out from beneath the blanket and puts her bare feet on the floor. "I'll be back in just a bit, okay?" she says, heading for the stairs.

"If you are, you are. It was nice to meet you Bebe. knock on the door, it might be locked, I wasn't paying attention" Abby offers to the other woman. "I'm glad I could help you. Gives me something to do. Try not to get gutted again would you? Your too pretty to get carved up" Abby moves for the blanket once it's been discarded, and her bed. Time to straighten sheets, fold blankets, fluff pillows. leave no trace of Bebe in her bed. Permission granted for the woman to leave.

The teenaged whore slowly ascends the stairs and there's the tell-tale sound of the door opening and closing and the lock being reinstated from the other side. But, true to her word, about fifteen minutes later, the door is unlocked and opened again and, sure enough, it's Bebe, bearing a brown paper bag of assorted culinary confections from the Sheung Wan Kitchen — tree lizard soup, sticky rice, and ginseng tea… plus a plastic spoon. That's safe, right? If all Abby needed to escape her confinement in the brothel basement was a plastic spoon, then well, oops! They're all fucked. (And, well, yes… most of them already are.)

February 14th: St. Valentine's Day Massacre
February 14th: When You Gotta Go
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