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xxxlocation: bar xxxxxxxxxoutfit: here
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xxx"Heroes can be found in the most unlikely places.
xxxPerhaps we all have it within us to do great things,
xxxbut may simply lack the circumstances
xxxor the reasons to be heroic."
x
Max's eyes stayed focused on Spectre's ankle, but her mind's focus was on the woman's words. When she mentioned an ambush in the middle of the night, a snarky--and a little flirty--comment rose to her lips. Something like What kind of ambush did you have in mind? followed by a wink. But she bit it back as she worked on examining her wound. Spectre was beautiful, and Max swung both ways, but there was a time and place for everything and this wasn't the time. Nor the place. Plus the woman was a complete stranger. So, she focused on the task at hand instead. It was definitely sprained, but Max doubted it was broken. She didn't feel any crepitus--or bone movement--when she touched the area. She touched just enough to feel for deformities, but not enough to cause a significant amount of pain. She was probably in enough pain already. The last thing Max needed to do was make it worse.
"Pretty sure it's just a sprain," She said, grabbing a hold of the ace bandage and beginning to wrap Spectre's ankle. Max thought a moment before answering her question. "Honestly? A little of both. I've been trained, but I've had to patch myself up more than a few times." With one hand she held Spectre's ankle. With the other, she lifted her shirt just enough for the woman to see the neat scar just at the base of her ribs. "Got stabbed a few years back from a drunken robber. Managed to sew myself up pretty good, but the scar is still there. Damn dull knife." She realized the last statement probably didn't make a whole lot of sense so she explained. "When you have a wound, you want it sharp and you want it to slice. It heals better. Your body's clotting factors work better that way too. If the wound is torn or jagged, it's uglier and takes longer to heal."
She finished wrapping up her ankle, elevated the foot and placed it on a pillow she had moved to the table, and placed the bag of ice on top. "There," She said, "Good as new." She sat on the chair near the couch and noticed Spectre starting to... fade a bit in consciousness, so she rose, went to her linen closet and grabbed a large, soft blanket and draped it around her before returning back to the chair.
Without hesitating Max answered. "I'm Max." There was no need to lie if they were going to be working together. She understood the perks in being unknown, but when you need to be sure someone is watching your back, you need to be able to trust them. And trust starts with just one door open for someone else. And this door was small. It wasn't even her full name. Just Max. "Should I continue calling you Spectre, or are you going to trust me with that bit of information?" She asked with a raised eyebrow and a confident smile.