estdeus_innobis | 'Cause I'm just a girl, little 'ol me / Don't let me out of your sight

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jarmyn,
tess

'Cause I'm just a girl, little 'ol me / Don't let me out of your sight

Day 352, Tuesday May 18th
Just before lunch
The Apothecary

There's water on my cheek, which is strange. I wipe it off on my apron and go back to heating the tincture of belladonna. There's a few women as want it t'look nice fer their fellas, and it's got plenty 'a uses 'asides that. The fumes could be a problem, though, and so I keep an eye on the glass as I go open up the windows. I smile as I see Kate sweepin' dust out her front door, and wave. I'm glad she dunt have no hard feelings 'bout it all, but I needed t'grow up, 'n she understands.

Family's got t'come first, after all.

I go back t'check the tincture, 'n start wipin' down the tabletop. You've got t'be careful workin' with belladonna, and soon 'nough I'll have t'be more careful with what I'm handlin', once we manage. At least my family dunt have too much trouble with that. It'll be nice t'have a child 'a my own. Johnny's pretty well grown, and Ma's got Mary well in hand. And the town could do with a birth - they always make people happier. Could bring the town 'n the farms closer, too. It's a good thing I married a townie. 'Sides, I'm happier here. I love my family, but 'f I'm t'do right by 'em, I can at least live with the man I love.

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My hand kept me up most of the night. I knocked it against the taps while I was closing up and nearly bit my lip through with the pain. Not much to be done for it so late, though, so I stood the throbbing through the night, thinking about what could be done about it.

No way in hell I'm going to Lucien or all the way out to the Carnival or the Abbey, so I'm here, after just a couple hours sleep after dawn. Not really in the best of moods, what with my left hand feeling like it'll explode at any minute, but I've had coffee. I can at least speak nicely to people.

I've never been in here before, but I'm hoping that whoever's working knows how to use the herbs and not just how to sell them.

A shaggy-haired man comes through the open door, and I notice the lines 'a pain at the corners 'v his eyes and mouth. "Good morning," I say brightly, turnin' down the flame under the tincture and walkin' over t'the counter.

"Mr. Aeresteade, right?" I ask him. There's been a number 'a scandalous rumours goin' around about him, but he dunt look too bad even with the way he's clutchin' at his hand like he caught it on the stove. "What d'you need today?"

"Good morning," she says, though it really, really isn't. And how she knows my name I don't know. Small town, I guess.

"Just Jarmyn," I tell her and try for a smile. "I need something for a poultice." I think about unwrapping my hand and showing it to her, but decide to wait. "My sister was good with herbs, and she used to use onions or dandelion to draw out infection, but those...haven't worked so well." They helped, but the skin's still angry red. It's not oozing though, and I think Lucien was just being a bastard about having to have it cut off.

"Just Jarmyn," he replies, tryin' t'be friendly, but I dunt know him that well. I suppose it must be a foreign thing, since he's not from 'round here. "I need something for a poultice." He dunt show me his hand, though. "My sister was good with herbs, and she used to use onions or dandelion to draw out infection, but those...haven't worked so well."

I frown. "Those ain't ideal," I tell him. "I'd wash it regular with iodine 'r distilled spirits, 'n bandage it up with honey. We've got some medicinal honey from Jamie's hives, and I can get you a tincture 'v iodine fer washin' it." It shouldn't scar much neither, dependin'. "Can I take a look? How'd it get hurt?"

Joanna's not here to argue with her about poultices, and I'm not going to tell this girl her business. "I put iodine on it when it first happened." Should have tried vodka or something, I guess, but it would've stung like hell. Never heard of putting honey on wounds, but I guess it makes sense. Honey doesn't go bad ever, that I know of. And maybe it won't sting so much.

I take the wrapping off and lay my hand on the counter gingerly. Hope she's not squeamish, because it's not a pretty sight, with the skin around the scab all puffy and red. "Someone bit me." You can kind of tell that from the shape, so there's no use lying to her. "About a week ago."

"I put iodine on it when it first happened," he claims, and I try t'think 'f I heard a bit 'v a whine there. "You need t'keep puttin' it on," I reply tartly. "These things dunt clear up after the first washin'." At least he wrapped it up. "Have you changed this bandage since?"

He unwraps it and sets his hand down. "Someone bit me. About a week ago." I raise an eyebrow as I look over it. "You get in a fight, then?" He ain't a small man, but he dunt look like a hard case neither. The wound's infected fer sure, though it dunt have much red streakin' away from the cuts. I'd be more worried then. Still, it ain't good.

"You might want t'see the doc 'n get him t'cut this open 'n drain the wound," I tell him, "though I could do it too. At least you ain't festerin', 'r I'd suggest maggots t'clean it."

Well yes, I know now I should've kept putting iodine on it, but that knowing's come a bit too late. "Yes, I've changed it. It's just that it's hard to keep it wrapped up when I'm working." Asking to get it grabbed in a fight is what it is.

"Something like that," I say to her question of fights. Don't really feel like spinning her the whole story just now.

Not a lot of hope in the way she's looking at my hand or in what she tells me after. "Lucien and I--" I stop, considering her. Don't know her from Adam and here I am thinking about letting her take a knife to my hand. "Sure he's a fine doctor and all, but I'd rather not have him near me with knives or needles."

"Yes, I've changed it. It's just that it's hard to keep it wrapped up when I'm working."

I shake my head 'n ask him "Where're you workin' again, Mr Aeresteade?" I'm sure he's the one as works at the 'Boy now Reed ain't, but I can hardly just say that, now can I? "Anyways, 'f you do it right it shouldn't come undone, and it'll be better 'n a glove 'f you're using your hands."

Could be he was takin' privileges, the way he says he might 'a bin fightin'. I'll keep an eye on him, anyways, but I doubt he'd want t'tangle with my husband.

"Lucien and I-- Sure he's a fine doctor and all, but I'd rather not have him near me with knives or needles."

I'm raisin' an eyebrow again, 'cause sure there's gossip here. "Well, have it your way," I tell him. "I'll do it myself - it's just a bit 'v a nick, really, since you dunt really need stitches, and then I'll clean it 'n wrap it proper, and sell you the honey 'f you've already got the iodine."

She asks me where I'm working, shaking her head and offering me all kinds of advice. She has a point, and I can't take much offense at the way she says it. "I work the front door at the 'Boy some nights, and the rest of the time I'm at the Whitechapel tending bar, which it why it's hard to keep it wrapped. The bandages get wet. But I'll see what I can do from now on." Going to have to, I guess.

I don't miss the way her eyebrow goes up when I mention Lucien. Sure she's heard something about him and me, and I want to know what it is. Can't just ask, though, not with her still talking to me about my hand. I think about what she's offering. Sure she knows her business, but....

I swallow hard. "Is it something you can show me how it needs to be done?" Not into knives or blood, never have been, but this is about as far from sex as you can get. I spread my good hand on the counter beside the bitten one. "My hands are steady, and I'm not bad with a knife, and I...think I could stand to do it." Or I know someone I could ask to. And think of girls and knives and green hair. Not green anymore, now. Would she do that for me? Does she know I'd trust her to?

Well, if Ri doesn't want to, then I'll do it myself. I do think I could stand to. I look up at the girl, my jaw set.

"I work the front door at the 'Boy some nights, and the rest of the time I'm at the Whitechapel tending bar, which it why it's hard to keep it wrapped. The bandages get wet. But I'll see what I can do from now on."

The 'Boy and the Whitechapel? Well, I suppose the Whitechapel's become more respectable since Mr. Laclos' marriage, but it's still a rough sort of place. "Well, you'll have to be excused from washing up," I tell him. I certainly hope that's what he means.

He seems uneasy about the doctor, who has his own set of rumours, but even so I can't imagine he'd be worried about goin' t'him fer his hand. "Is it something you can show me how it needs to be done?" He looks a bit queasy, and I wonder if he's weak 'round blood. Not much good in a bouncer, I imagine. "My hands are steady, and I'm not bad with a knife, and I...think I could stand to do it."

I sigh 'n shake my head. "Come on, just have a seat at the table back here while I get set up. 'N dunt touch nothin'." Honest, men can be such babies. 'R maybe it's just him. "It'll take less than a mark, 'n it'll be over faster than 'f you're wincin' and pokin' at it with your free hand."

Don't say anything to her comment about washing up, because I'm not here to explain my job to her. Am here to get my hand looked after.

I don't think I'm going to be able to get her to show me how it needs to be done. And maybe this is the sort of thing I shouldn't go asking Ri to do for me. I don't know, and the not knowing hurts as much as my hand.

So when she motions me back to the table I follow, still none to sure of letting this girl I don't know take a knife to my hand. Ease into one of the chairs and lay my hand out in a patch of sunlight. After a minute I think to lean on my forearm with my other arm. That'll maybe help keep it still.

I look up at her. "All right."

"All right."

He's all braced on the table 'n it makes me want t'laugh. I set out a bandage, iodine, honey, clean cloth, 'n a small sharp knife. "Dunt twitch 'round," I warn him, and I take the knife and cut quick and light into the middle 'a the bite, on both sides. It ain't like an animal bite, but it's deep 'nough that it broke skin.

It's over quick, and I get a good grip on his wrist. "This part's goin' t'hurt," I tell him. It's important t'clean out the deep parts 'a the wound. I splash the iodine on and grab the cloth, scrubbin' over the wound and payin' no mind t'his gasps. It'll hurt like nothin' else, but it dunt do any real damage, 'sides maybe clearin' away some 'a the dyin' 'r infected flesh.

"Give it a minute," I tell him, sittin' back, "and then I'll bandage it up."

It might be my imagination, but I think she's smirking a little as she sets everything out. I try not to pay her any mind and not look at the knife, just sort of breathe and think about how much better it'll feel when it's healed. And really, it's not I haven't been cut by people with a lot less in the way of concern for my health. But somehow a fight, where you can at least try to give as good back, and your blood's up so you don't feel things so much is easier to think about.

Don't twitch, she tells me, and I roll my eyes. "Not going to twitch, sweetheart. Just get it over with." And, to give it to her, she does do that. Two little slices, and then the pain, but a sharper, deeper pain than the hot throb from before. I set my teeth in my lip hard. Well all right, then.

Frown a little as she grabs my wrist and tells me it's going to hurt. Thought we were over with the worst of it, but no, she feels the need to daub iodine all over the blood welling up over the bite before she attacks it with a rag.

I don't shriek. I really don't think anyone could call it that. It's more like a strangled explosion of breath that turns profane really quick. Sure I've felt things that hurt worse. Hot iron and the crunch of bone. My knee, that time with Joshua. But this, this is here. "Jesus Christ," I mutter, after she takes her hand away. "A minute, yeah."

"Not going to twitch, sweetheart. Just get it over with."

I suppose I could 'a bin a bit more gentle. My husband always rolls his eyes when I go off on him, and I'm trying t'be a bit more mild, but I've got my limits. "Jesus Christ. A minute, yeah." I frown, even though I've got a satisfied sort 'a grin fightin' it.

"Watch you language, Mr. Aeresteade. I thought you tended door for the 'Boy 'n bar at the Whitechapel. I'm sure you've got all sort 'a bad influences, but you ought t'be able t'stand a little pain." I wonder 'f my husband 'll be home fer lunch? I ought t'cook somethin' up quick.

She gives me a little frown, but the corners of her mouth are twitching like she's trying not to smile. Just not seeing a whole lot of comfort in this girl. I sit back in my chair, looking at the mess of red and yellow-orange on my hand as she lectures me. Wonder if the sting of it will die down ever.

"Just didn't expect you to go at it like that, is all." She really doesn't know anything about me and pain. Look up at her. "And I wish you wouldn't show me the sharp edge of your tongue when I'm bleeding in your back room." And then tell me to watch my own language.

"Just didn't expect you to go at it like that, is all." He's poutin', he really is. "Well, there's no point in dabbin' gingerly at it. I doubt the doc'd be more gentle. 'Sides, I learned healin' on my brothers 'n the farm animals. Better t'get it over quick."

He looks up at me as I tidy up my tools. "And I wish you wouldn't show me the sharp edge of your tongue when I'm bleeding in your back room."

I smile at him. "Well, next time you'll wash it proper and regular, won't you?" I shrug and scrub the table where he bled a touch. "There's no sense in bein' too nice when it's at least some your own fault." I sit back down and dig one rag in honey, wrappin' it firmly 'round his hand, but not tight 'nough t'cause problems. "You'll want t'leave this on 'till tomorrow at least, and then replace the bandage every day or two. Earlier 'f you get it too dirty." I wrap two more clean strips over his hand so the honey dunt leak out, and examine my work.

"I'll ring you up, 'n you can either pay now, 'r I can send the bill t'your lodgings."

Really don't feel like having a conversation with her about farming, so I don't put in that doctoring the animals was Jacob's skill, and that I never wanted to touch anything that was his.

She feels the need to lecture me as she bandages me up none too gently. Girl must have a heart of ice, and I pity her husband for it. Her brothers, too, if she did practice healing on them. I nod to her orders, knowing that answering back will just get me another tart suggestion.

She sets out honey and another roll of bandages on the counter, and what she's asking isn't too much more than I think they're worth, so I don't try to dicker with her over the price. Besides, a girl with a tongue like that could probably bargain a cat down from a tree.

Do thank her, but don't say much more before I gather up my things in my good hand and leave. I think about poking my head in the salon to see if Verite's in the mood for me, but I don't think I could stand it if she's not. Not with my hand still throbbing and my ears full of how I shouldn't have let it get that way. Maybe tomorrow.

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'Cause I'm just a girl, little 'ol me / Don't let me out of your sight

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