Margo was not the “eyes flutter open” type of girl.  In fact, she was usually completely the opposite, flailing out of bed and falling onto the floor with twisted sheets.  St. Mungo’s, however, had changed some of that.  Or, at least the drugs did.  It was the closest to fairy tale princess wake ups every time some idiot came in to check on her she would ever have for the rest of her life. 

Truth be told, she was kept floating in the midst of cloud nine ¾ most of the time because if she wasn’t it was practically unbearable.  Her shoulder had been repaired; her ribs repaired (though they still ached with each cough), and cuts sealed shut.  Her burns were being treated – slightly less “easy fix” as one of the mediwitches had told her, since there were magical properties involved.  Margo knew it all already, which had surprised the mediwitch.  “Dragon researcher,” was all she had needed to say.  Suddenly things had started to click. 

So, now that she had the whole slightly parted lips, fanciful eyelid flutter, and tiny whine thing under lock and key as a set of skills she never would have thought she needed, Margo’s vision readjusted – figure coming into full view.  Instead of a mediwitch it was a healer – Hughes.  Childhood target, absent from early adulthood (she figured like most people from school), and now mid-young adulthood reappearance of some definite importance.  Plus, they were neighbors.  And Margo’s roommate was his friend… and now he was pressing his fingers into her wrist… or what would have been a wrist if there was actually a hand attached to the end. 

At this rate, by fifty she'd be more metal than person.  If she even made it that far.  "Can you even get a pulse from a stump?" Margo slurred.  Greetings were not really necessary, all things considered. 

Flynn was checking Margo's vitals, and generally looking her over to see how the healing was going. The thing he was most concerned about at the moment was the smoke inhalation. The fire had magical properties. The burns and the effects of the smoke were what kept patients in the hospital, though. The potions that he and a few healers had concocted seemed to be effective, but the healing was slow-going.

His wolfsbane project had been put on hold.

Let's face it, all of Flynn's plans and priorities had shifted to accommodate this disaster. Thankfully, his cousins would be fine... It could have been much worse. He had seen much worse.

Margo woke up, and spoke that typical Margo venom.

"Glad to see you're awake." He gave her a smile, "You're improving. And you're healed enough for us to start constructing a new hand for you. We can't very much do that without your input, hm?" He raised his eyebrows, "How are you feeling?"

He paused,  neighbor-Flynn instead of healer-Flynn kicking in, "Also, I think my cat is pregnant."

Margo was usually the one annoying people with her demeanor, but right now with Flynn smiling… she felt very annoyed.  Maybe it was because he could stand there and check her pulse and smile at her because he wasn’t essentially deformed.  She had scars everywhere and now in addition to the one stump she had just started truly getting used to after a few years of dealing with it, she had a new one to learn to deal with.

Flynn had all of his limbs, she lamented in her own head as she squirmed to sit up better.  Not only that, but his hand was warm.  Letting her shoulders drop, Margo sighed.  Why was he trying to be so pleasant?  There was nothing to be happy about. 

Even talk of healing and a constructed hand couldn't make her feel butterflies or whatever.  "Fantastic," she responded flatly with a tiny sigh.  It wasn’t her’s so it didn’t feel like it really mattered anyway.  “Just make it match the other one, I guess,” she groused, pout still fully in tact.  Again, it wasn’t as though it mattered much.  Settlng back into the pillows, she relaxed her neck and trained her eyes on the ceiling.  She could ignore some small talk.  He could probably guess how she felt. 

But when he said something about his cat being pregnant, Margo turned her head slowly, eyebrows furrowed for a moment (there was a cut on her face – that hurt).  She coughed – very common – and opened her eyes, relieved that there was no blood on her pillow.  That symptom was finally going away.  Whatever was in that smoke was some nasty shite. 

“If you’re trying to invite me to a weird cat baby shower, I’ll pass,” Margo retorted.  “Not much for parties right now.”   

She was grumpy. The woman had just been in an explosion, of course she was grumpy. His smile quickly relaxed into a more neutral expression. Flynn felt like the choice for her hand was... Really up to her, but if she wanted to wait, he would. It was ultimately Margo's choice. 

Flynn raised his eyebrows at Margo, "I promise you that I will make you a hand that everybody will be jealous of." He said, "Myself included." It wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be her real hand.  And the time it would take for her to get used to it... Well, it varied from person to person. Margo had the experience of learning how to work with a prosthetic. In this, she had experience. Flynn hoped that this experience would allow her to become accustomed to it faster. But did someone ever really get accustomed to something that wasn't really part of you?

"We're going to be fur-grandparents." Flynn said before letting the subject drop. He was here to be her healer, not her neighbor.

The promise was  a nice gesture, but Margo didn’t necessarily know if that was true, considering she’d just be jealous of everyone who had their real hands.  Sure, eventually she’d be able to do everything anyone else could do, but it was never the same.  She still fell out of bed when she was startled awake and forgot she had to go through an entire ordeal to just get up.  Then there was the chaffing and if anything was off… there was discomfort and imbalance.  She wondered what the complications with her hand would be.

Would she be able to live a life that she wanted?  She didn’t need a seer to say probably not.  So, if she was a little crusty, it wasn’t her fault.  It was basically her entire life changing… again.  For the second time in three years.  Did it ever end? 

Apparently not! 

Margo’s head slowly turned toward her healer-neighbor.  “Really?” she asked skeptically.  It seemed ridiculous, ridiculous enough to at least lighten her mood.  Fur-grandparents.  She couldn’t exactly remember if she’d ever gotten Lizard fixed… she sort of doubted it considering he wouldn’t let anyone really grab him at all… so transport was probably not an option…  Honestly, she didn’t even realize Flynn had a cat, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun with it.

She was an invalid.  She earned this.  “I mean, I heard that cat of yours is a bit of a run around.  Lizard is an upstanding citizen…”