[url=http://www.obsidianportal.com/campaigns/dresden-files-new-orleans/characters/elbridge-hardley][b]Elbridge Hardley - FP: 1[/b][/url]

"Oh, Mr. Hardy, whatever DID you do to yourself this time?" The nurse has never met Elbridge before in her life, but nonetheless mangles his surname like an old friend. Her tone is at once overly-familiar and patronising, as if speaking to a child, and delivered more slowly than Elbridge has patience for these days. [i]Senile,[/i] he realises. [i]She thinks I'm senile.[/i]

[i]Fucking gerontology.[/i]

"Windsurfing? At [i]your[/i] age?" She clicks her tongue, scolding him. "You're lucky you didn't break any bones!" Elbridge blinked. He hadn't volunteered a cause of injury. The nurse's eyes, however, kept sliding to his bloodstained attire - his garish shirt, khaki trousers, and socks-with-sandals. [i]Senile [b]pensioner[/b], on holiday in the Gulf.[/i] He simply smiles and nods amicably, as if still unsure of his surroundings, not bothering to correct her.

He'd have preferred to check in under a false identity - the dearth of options cuts both ways, and Elbridge [i]really[/i] doesn't want to bump into the Fomor in this sorry state. But he'd left the duSang estate in a hurry, without time to gather anything from his shack, so that hadn't been an option. A pity; perhaps with better (fraudulent) coverage, he'd already have something for this [i]agonising pain[/i].

"Now, I can see that you're not on any medication for blood clots or heart disease," she rambles on, oblivious to El's brooding, "so that's good! We can talk about having your operation as soon as there's an opening!"

Elbridge blinks again. "Operation?" he echoes.

"Well, yes. You see, Mr. Hardy, your skin got all tore up by the wind and sand, and you might need a [i]liiiiittle[/i] patch or two. It's called a 'skin graft', and you'll feel a lot better once it's done." The nurse flips through the pages on her clipboard. "Just as soon your provider approves the treatment-" She stops, rereading his insurance information, then smiles a weak, plastic smile.

"...well, we have plenty of Neosporin and clean bandages!"

--------

Elbridge shuffles to the Surgery waiting room, step by torturous step. Bandaged from head to toe like an Egyptian mummy, he looks every bit the classic part played by Boris Karloff in 1932, if Boris Karloff had also been forced into an unflattering hospital gown to add insult to injury. He takes the seat furthest from any delicate electronics, nods stiffly to Rupert, and sits in contemplation of hideous curses.