estrogenandspite

There was a discussion about the idea of a doctor treating both Podenco and the First Aid Kittens, and, well, how could I resist?

"Okay," she said, hands in the pockets of her lab coat, shoulders hunched as usual. "Viral screen came up clear. You're clean to keep slutting it up." The puppygirl on the table whined. "What do you want, a headpat? You know where the back door is."

She pulled a lighter out of her pocket and proceeded to add to the haze of smoke in the air. The puppygirl whined again, all big eyes and pleading. "No, I'm not going to put it out on you. Waste of a cig. Go on, get, before I put my boot up your ass." She fixed the girl with a severe glare, which only seemed to intensify the blush on her face, but leave she did. The doctor ran a hand through her short, graying hair, letting a long draft of smoke escape her mouth. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

She walked out of the front door into the main office. "Greta, who's next? It's not one of those catgirls, is it? I don't wanna have to vacuum the whole-" she stopped when she saw her assistant. Greta was short, chubby, and cheerful - the polar opposite of herself. Normally, she had rosy cheeks. Right now, they were pale white.

"Doctor Salina," she said, in a strangled voice, "there's someone here to see you."

Salina followed her gaze to a man in the dingy reception area. Not quite as tall as she was; muscular, under a heavy black trenchcoat. Face concealed under a dark N-95 and a black hat. Shined shoes, and a dark barrel pointed at her assistant. "Ah, Doctor," he said, smoothly. "Glad you could make it. We have a few things to discuss." He gave her an appraising glance without moving the gun. "Not quite what I expected, I'll admit."

Salina took a long, slow puff on her cigarette and let the smoke hang in the air. "Rate's two for a screen and a checkup, four if you need stitches, eight for bullets or burns. Cash up front." She put her hands back in her pockets. "And we got a strict no-guns policy." Greta continued to sweat as the ceiling fan did little to disperse the smoke or the tension.

The man laughed. "Amusing, doctor, but not why I'm here. I need to know something about one of your clients, and you're going to tell me."

"If it's not on the list, you can't buy it. Hard rule." She rolled the cigarette around in her mouth. "Two strikes, pal."

The man's eyes hardened, and his grip on the gun stiffened. "I wasn't offering to buy the information, Doctor." Greta swallowed, but avoided whimpering. Salina knew there was a reason she liked her. "A simple veterinarian doesn't hold a lot of cards in this situation. I assure you, I'm not bluffing."

"Never said you were." She took the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. "You're not the first flatfoot to come in here waving a gun around, and you won't be the last, I'm sure. Men like you are always very serious." She turned towards him. "But strike three is threatening my assistant, and if you're not going to back down, then there's only one option."

The man's eyes had a chance to widen, briefly. The gun went off. Greta screamed. So did he.

"I'm so tired," Salina said, "of men presuming that vet means veterinarian. Of men presuming that because I'm a woman, they can just push me around. But most of all," there was a sickening crack, and the man screamed again. "I'm tired of people coming in here, to my office, where I regularly treat super-powered assholes, and assuming that I can't handle myself." There was a shuffling of cloth and a few more muted screams.

"There," she said, hands back in her pockets as she looked at the man's makeshift sling. "Now keep that wrap on and don't use that arm for at least two weeks. And tell whoever sent you that my office hours are Monday through Friday, 8 AM to 5 PM, and they're free to call me if they want to talk business."

As the man retreated back through the door, she turned around and looked at Greta. She was still pale, and her cheek was bleeding. "Lemme see that." Salina grabbed her chin and positioned her face to examine the bright red line across it. "Minor burn, surface level laceration. Help yourself to the medical supplies and take the rest of the day off. I'll reschedule our non-criticals." The flush began to return to the younger woman's cheeks. "First time's the toughest, but you'll get used to it. See you tomorrow, Greta." Salina gently pushed her away from the computer chair and spun it around to take a seat herself. She was too occupied by the phone and the new cigarette she was lighting to notice Greta reach out, swallow, and then turn around and leave, blushing furiously.