#ryan tag

Bantu knots and glasses brought Ryan his lunch, too. He spared a glance at her nametag this time, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t actually be staying long enough to need remember it. Still, he recognized that it was always better to be prepared.

Hi! My name is Dr. Hailey.

Huh. Was the bright red introductory sticker mandated by Dubhe, or had Dr. Hailey just… decided to wear that? And did she wear them for every patient, or just the ones that were rude to her when she wanted to treat them? Ryan couldn't quite recall if she'd been wearing the sticker the last time they'd spoken.

Ryan had less ridiculous things to focus on. Like eating a meal. And apparently, like convincing Dr. Hailey that she should leave. Again. Because after giving him the lunch, she didn't even bother walking away, just staying right where she was to stare at his arm.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The stab wound in my arm feels just dandy, thanks.”

“I could help you,” she offered. Ryan rolled his eyes. “You know, you don't have to just keep suffering.”

“Really?” he asked, the corners of his mouth turning up with something akin to humor. “Do you really think that just not suffering is an option here? For fuck’s sake.”

“It is an option,” she insisted. “I could treat the wound. I could give you pain medication.”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you, idiot? I'm your prisoner. Pretty sure I've committed more crimes under Dubhe's laws than anyone ever managed to commit under mine. I don't get to stop suffering, no matter how much influence I still hold over pathetic servants like you.”

She smiled, almost guiltily, as if they were in on a secret. “That's none, you know. Do you know that? You don't have influence over me, Mr. Rao. I'm also not even a servant."

"I have plenty of influence over you," Ryan sniffed. "You've left when I've told you to. You haven't said my first name a single time. You've offered me pain medication. You're terrified of me, whether you like it or not.”

“Really?” she asked, still smiling. “Oh, that's funny, actually, that you think that. No. I'm not scared of you. You're a prisoner, yeah, and this is how we treat prisoners, regardless of the crime. You're still a person.”

“Yeah, right,” Ryan sneered. “Dubhe can preach on and on about his bullshit of becoming a better person, but that doesn't actually make it work. You wouldn't listen to him if no one ever had to face consequences for not listening to him. And everyone will still listen to me because of all the people who've had to face consequences for not doing so."

She tilted her head at him. “You really can't believe it, can you? You were so mean to people, just to get them to do what you wanted. You can't imagine a world where people listen to their king without him threatening to kill us. You can't even begin to picture it, can you?”

The look in her eyes felt almost like pity.

Ryan wondered if this was how cats felt after being declawed.

“I don't want you touching my arm," he said after a moment. "You're a coward, a liar, and an idiot, and you don't understand how the crown works. But since I know you're scared of me, and I know you're supposed to fix my arm, I do have a different request. I want to talk to the angel.”

“The… what?”

“Onyx. I'd imagine he's either a prisoner or one of Dubhe's personal guests by now. You may treat my arm in Onyx's presence.”

“If I figure out what the hell you're talking about, I can pass along the request. Don't get your hopes up.”

“I won't let you treat my arm otherwise," he repeated.

"Okay, so I'll pass along the request." She rolled her eyes. "I don't care about your arm. My job is to offer to treat it, not to barter with you. I hope you’re aware that leaving that arm alone will have a lot more negative consequences for you than it will for me.”

~

taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606 @jay--o

@fuckclimatechange @cepheusgalaxy @fourwingedwriter @written-in-the-stars135 @warmfuzz-ies