Snippet #2006413

Morgan nodded solemnly as Bell requested the whiskey, laying aside his tools momentarily to fetch the alcohol. He walked over to his desk, piled with papers and just about every odd and end you can think of. The desk was in chaos, but it was an organized chaos, at least in Morgan's eyes, and he knew exactly where the whiskey was. "Lucky you," said Morgan, producing a half-full bottle from the top desk drawer, "I just stocked up last week, so I'll give you what's left of this bottle."

He returned to the table and handed Bell the bottle, checking the needle again before ordering him to lie back. Taking a breath, Morgan started in on the wound, puncturing the skin and pushing the needle through. He worked quickly and with great skill, making neat little stitches across the gash. It would heal up quite nicely, he was sure of that, and as he tied off the thread he took a moment to admire his handiwork.

"Right then, all that's left is the ointment and the bandage, and I swear neither of those'll hurt a bit." He snipped off the extra thread and opened a small jar of ointment, spreading the clear mush in a thin layer across the cut. The bandage was next; a pad of cotton pressed over the wound followed by a length of cloth wrapped tight around Bell's chest.

"The stiches'll need to stay at least a couple weeks, but after that you'll be good as new. You'll have to be careful not to rip those stiches, though- they hurt twice as much going as out as they do going in. I hope any work you'll be doing won't be too...rough," he looked Bell right in the eye, a not-so-subtle hint that he was more than a little suspicious of the man.