OOC: collaborative post with [@wanderingwolf]

She was drinking alone, choosing to sit between two empty bar stools on either side of her. However, after her arrival, the spot to her immediate right was occupied by her medium-sized bag. Alana figured it was one less option for anyone looking to sit next to her to strike up a conversation. Shortly after gulping down the last of her drink, Alana waived at the bartender, trying to catch his attention. Seemingly busy, the man held up a finger to let her know he'd be with her momentarily. But the wait wasn't all that long. As he turned around, Alana mouthed the words "another one" as she tapped the rim of her now empty glass. Happy to oblige, the bartender smiled and nodded at her, and Alana returned the smile. Shen then leaned forward, resting her forearms on the bar top as she waited.

Down the bar, a man in a duster and a Montana fold had been quietly downing shots as fast as the barkeep could fill them. Now, another man, clearly drunk, approached him. After a tap on the shoulder and a drunken-hush, the newcomer grabbed the fellow’s collar and reeled back his fist.

The first punch caught Cal off guard, head turned to sip the latest shot glass of whiskey. The man’s poor aim hit Captain Strand square on the right ear, sending the shot flying toward the barkeep and his shelves of liquor. Having trouble keeping balance, the aggressor leaned into Cal to steady himself before mounting a sluggish second attack. In response, Strand shoved the man toppling into a table and chairs. Meanwhile, the nonplussed Captain turned back to the bar, fingers curled around the next shot and down the hatch.

Scrambling to his feet, the drunk let out a cry and rushed Strand who answered the man’s show with a swift strike to the throat. The man collapsed to the ground gasping for air. Cal stooped to pick up his hat, batting it against his knee, “Now, was that really necessary?” he asked the suffocating man. The barkeep flashed Cal a scowl when he looked to him for support. “What? He started it!”

Some tussling not all that far from her perked her right up. Alana turned her head, wary of the brawling duo with one of them who looked to be a little too drunk past his limit. She placed a hand on her bag, but didn’t necessarily pull it closer to her. Instead, she watched as the man who had been a few spots down from her ended the fight before any more damage could be inflicted. Looking around momentarily, Alana noticed the remaining patrons minding their own business once more. It was then she decided to hop off the stool and offer some help, approaching the two. 

“Excuse me, mind if I take a look?”

She didn’t so much ask as she slightly shoved the man kneeling over the downed drunk. Alana placed her bag beside her and directed her attention to her new patient, looking him over once before taking action. “Hold still, I’m going to help you, alright?” With one hand firmly placed on his forehead and the other under his chin, Alana tilted his head back to allow his airway to open. It was at that time the man grasped her wrist with a rather tight grip, a sudden look of desperation on his face before it melted away moments later as his breathing slowly evened out. “There you go, just try to relax. Come on, just take it easy now.” 

Once he was stable, Alana asked the other stranger to open the main compartment of her bag. Mid sentence, however, her hands were swatted away from the drunk's face. She then watched as he struggled to get to his feet, knocking down the only upright chair in the process but eventually managing to stand.

“Well, guess I’m done here. You alright, by the way?"

Cal watched as a concerned citizen made it her business to administer to the drunk, pushing him aside in the process. Next, as she laid hands ‘round the man’s neck, Cal figured she just wanted the pleasure of finishing him herself. “Listen, think I already gave him a dose of his own medicine--” he began, then the drunkard’s neck straightened out and he started breathing again.

Ah, she was a doctor then, whose bossy demeanor was cemented with her instruction for him to open her bag. A fine spectacle it was, her kneeling over a guy who smelled like he’d bathed in the bottle, giving orders and whatnot. Then the fella rose, or tried to at least, and stood eye to eye with them.

Captain Strand stood, too, fixing the man with a placating smile. Hard as it was to read the eyes of a man who could barely stand upright, the drunk made his feelings clear from the string of curses and middle finger waving that he wanted nothing to do with either of them. He meandered away, coughing and sucking air off and on.

By the time the doc turned her attentions on Cal, the line of blood from the blow to his right ear had made it’s winding way down his chin. From the amount he’d imbibed, Strand still felt like a million bucks, what with the adrenaline coursing. Turning to the woman, he pushed the brim of his hat back so he could see her better.

Young as she was, it struck him strange to find her here in this seedy bar off the beaten path; the sort of place you go when you want to crawl up into a bottle. Lady weren’t bad looking neither, something captivating about her face made all the more prominent by her brows. Especially the way they were furrowing at him now as he was staring a bit too long.

“I’m right as the mail. So you’re a doctor, huh?”

Her eyes had tracked the drunkard until he was quite a ways from them. Before slinging her bag over her shoulder, the young woman pulled out a dissolvable disinfectant wipe, figuring she then would pay for her drinks and leave a tip for the bartender for his troubles, not that she was responsible for any of it. With a slight head shake, she turned to the stranger, noticing he was staring after a few moments of silence between them two.

"Close. More like a medic..." she trailed off, suddenly pulled to the blood dripping from the man's ear down to his chin. Maybe it was the couple of drinks she'd had, but that sight was not one she was expecting, and it showed on her face. "Quick, you need to sit down!" Even though he towered over her, Alana guided him back onto a stool. She placed her hands on his upper arms and walked him backwards until he was off his feet. Nothing life-threatening was occurring, but ear damage often resulted in a loss of balance. Would she be able to catch him if he were to suddenly go down? Most certainly not. In fact, she was surprised he'd been fine up to that point. She smiled at him despite the circumstances. "Sorry, but you're bleeding."

Instead of waiting for a response, Alana gently forced his head to the side to examine him. She couldn't tell how deep the damage was, but the fact that he hadn't gone down was a good sign. "Is it okay if I clean you up? I'm gonna also give you some antibiotic ear drops and a painkiller. You ain't too bright in the head if you continue drinking tonight though..." Alana set her bag on the adjacent barstool, one hand on his chest in case he slumped forward.

“Really--” his protestations were waived away by the woman as she guided him into the one seat the drunk hadn’t upended. Then, as she swiveled his neck fro, his own finger traced the warm line coming from his ear. The sticky sensation between thumb and forefinger explained the look in her eye.

“Oh, it’s nothin’ really. Lucky húndàn clipped me is all.” He attempted to stand, but the woman’s hand on his chest urged him to reconsider. “Wow, full service aren’t we? I imagine you don’t get told no often,” he continued, “and you’d be drinking too if you had the day I’m having.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Cal forged ahead, “Can’t rightly say no to being shook down when the only way off this rock and to keep the China Doll from rot is to take a deal with Badger.” He waved a hand over the woman’s shoulder at the bartender for two more shots, but the man simply huffed, ignoring Strand, and turned to cleanup the mess he’d made.

“And there ain’t enough crew to keep her in working order. I may look like a hot shot, honey, but even I can’t sail the whole ship myself. Hell, no mechanic, no pilot, and no… Say,” A thought began forming as his dazed vision began to focus on Alana in earnest.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't ya tough guy?" Alana added with a bit of a smirk, reaching for a pair of gloves and some gauze. "You know I'm a transient myself, haven't been here all that long, but even I've heard of that Badger guy. It's safe to say that at this point, a bleeding ear is the least of your worries."

A moment later, Alana was wiping his face clean. She noticed some blood spots on his clothes, but there was nothing she could do about that. Tossing the bloodied wipe aside, Alana then gently angled his head in order to administer the ear drops. "Hold still for me," she added, standing closer to him than she normally would. But she was a couple drinks deep into the evening and her inhibitions weren't all there. After a few moments, once she allowed enough time for the liquid to filter down, Alana tapped him on the shoulder. "You're good to go! But sorry, what were you gonna say?" she turned away from him in order to tidy up and put everything back in its place.

“Transient?” he asked, between being turned this way and that, dabbed here and there, and finally dripped in the ear, which made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight. As she leaned in, he thought she smelled like coconut and alcohol, but that could have been the shots finally hitting his blood in earnest. 

“I was just thinking,” he said, eyeing the ‘medic’ who had revived the man he’d docked, and treated him besides, “you look to have a knack, and I seem to have a need.” He rubbed the back of his neck, picking up his hat. “Who knows when something like this is liable to happen again--tends to crop up on days that end with ‘y.’” He cleared his throat. “The China Doll’s headed for New Melbourne on a job or two. Got need of someone with your touch, and the pay’s decent. If’n you’re looking to travel a bit, that is, given your transient ways.” The Captain was on his feet, rubbing at the ear she’d been tugging on.

"Hm, as compelling as that sounds," she led him on, waving the bartender down in order to make her payment, "how can I say no?" With a small laugh, the young woman turned to complete the transaction. A few moments later, she turned back to the man and held out a hand in order to introduce herself, which at that point was overdue. "Name's Alana, though oftentimes they refer to me as doc, whatever floats your boat. What about you, Captain?"

“Cal Strand,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Welcome to the China Doll.”  He glanced through the window at the fading light, Badger’s time a-calling. “You’ll find her in slip eight down by the docks. Feel free to settle in; should be a redhead there what’s holding down the fort. She’s got info for you on the standard pay for the work we do, dohn mah?” Settling his Montana fold around his ears, Strand added, “Got some more business to take care of ‘fore I meet you there. Oh, and you’ll find the infirmary ‘mostly’ stocked,” he gave an iffy gesture. “Last doc took most of it with ‘em on the way out.” 

As the medic wound her way back to the China Doll, Cal thought to himself, [i]Hell, I oughta insult drunks to their faces more often.[/i]