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Post by Owen Harper on Feb 12, 2011 21:42:17 GMT -5
The way Gylfie handled his wounds he figured she had done this procedure many times with her team in Australia. Owen was mostly prepared with tools of his trade as a doctor on field jobs.
Owen had been rude and did not give Gylfie a pair of surgeon latex gloves he carried in his pocket. He had two white cloths with him too that was for blood. He pulled them out, handed one too her. Wearing a half smirk, Owen gave her a look that said I forgot to give it to you. He dabbed his cloth over the areas where he felt the pain. He had another piece of tool. He had alcohol for cleaning wounds. He ripped a pack open, placed the little pad. It burned of course but it was clean the wound or be infected. He was not planning to have infections.
Taking a deep breath, “Thanks Gylfie,” he said breathing out. He had meant it. She had helped him. He could have done it himself but he had decided to let Gylfie do it. It was a gamble to bring a little working relationship.
Gylfie was kind and helpful. It was as if Gylfie was a mother. He would not mind having her to care for him. Comfort him and love him. He really never had a good relationship with his mother. She had wished he had a mother liked that and not sick, twisted mother who shouted at Owen and almost destroyed Owen.
There's no need to think of punishments right now. Why don't we head back to the Hub and see Jack about all this? I'm sure Tom could give us a lift.
Her touch was magical because it had calmed Owen and he did forget about the flat tire. He blinked his eyes, “No! He will be punished! I swear that cod head is going to wish he never messed around with Doctor Owen Harper!’ It was pride. To be defeated and teased by an alien was a hit under Owen’s ego’s belt. He was not planning to be played a fool by the young fish head.
It was late. The idiot would be gone far off now. He was swearing and punching the air with his fist in the air. He had walked the direction of the blow up mail box but he stopped. He quickly decided to go back to his car. He let a loud sigh escape when he saw the flat tire he did.
He swore again. It was very personal for Owen and he had a problem with the fish head. It seemed Tom had agreed to take them to Owen’s place. Turning to Gylfie, “It was my place. We don’t need little police officer trying to poke around for Torchwood.”
Owen brought her up to his bare flat. It was top, nice view over the Cardiff bay. He had about three chairs in the whole flat, not counting the toilet seat in his bathroom. He had a couch, a coffee table and a nice plasma television that was on when they entered the flat. It was far from being cozy. Magazines are on the floor near his couch.
The answer machine had dozen calls or so. Most calls are from women. “I actually got juice in the cold box,” he said leaving to his bathroom. He closed the door and gone to tend his wounds and cleaned up. So he had eventually had a woman in his flat by the end of the night.
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Post by Gylfie Murdoch on Feb 18, 2011 19:24:31 GMT -5
Gylfie accepted the cloth from Owen and took a seat next to him on the bench. She cleaned her hands, never taking her eyes from Owen's hands as he removed an alcohol wipe and cleaned his face. Oh, how those burned! Yet despite the sting, Owen dabbed at the gashes with nary a flinch.
At his thanks, Gylfie just gave him a small smile and turned to focusing her eyes on her now clean hands. A short silence fell between them, bordering comfort instead of awkwardness. Eventually, it was disturbed by Owen's outburst. Gylfie jumped, her eyes wide.
As Owen carried on with his spiel, she sighed. It looked like he wasn't going to let this go. Well, it didn't concern her too much - she would leave within the next two weeks and travel half way around the world. It would be very hard for her to listen to Owen's chattering then. Of course, she had doubts that she would ever hear his moaning cease. If she was lucky, he'd shut up by the end of the night.
But this is Owen, she thought sadly, standing and trailing after him. I bet this is how he copes, how he deals with his losses... and I respect that. She reached out towards him, considering touching his shoulder, but she decided against it. That would be weird.
Ooc; I didn't really understand who drove them,
so this might be a bit vague on the details.
Instead, she hopped into the car beside him and hummed as they headed towards his house. She had half expected it to be in the slums of Cardiff, despite knowing that the Torchwood 3 members received a hefty paycheck. She didn't expect to be brought to a lovely building and then a room with a gorgeous view of the bay.
She stood at the window, looking at the bobbing boats and the people walking along the docks. It was absolutely beautiful and this view out-shadowed the lack of homeliness inside the flat. There were few photos laying about, no trinkets or goodies from various adventures - only simple furnishings and a few essential items.
Turning her back on the view, Gylfie walked slowly around the apartment, looking for something to clean or help with. The only thing she could find was the stack of magazines, teetering haphazardly. She straightened them and then looked around once more. Nothing else to do. But... oh!
Oh no, her eyes went wide, a hand covering her mouth. I came home with Owen. Jack will kill us... no, he'll kill him.
Her brown eyes gazed at the door longingly. She should leave, while Owen was in the bathroom, but she knew she couldn't. He had just been hurt. There was a strong likelihood that he'd experience trauma or shock. How could she consider leaving a wounded boy after he had treated her to a nice meal, anyway? She couldn't. With a sigh, she plopped down onto the couch and began watching the football match on the television.
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Post by Owen Harper on Feb 18, 2011 23:25:09 GMT -5
Looking at his injuries in the bathroom, he was pleased. He was not the happiest bloke right now. He saw he had to put a few stitches in his brow area. It wasn’t Gylfie’s fault. She had done a good job. Pulling the medicine cabinet open, he had his own little stitch kit in there. It was due the bar fights he had. He took the needle to numb it. It was painful like one can’t imagine. He stitched it up. It was well done job.
After he was done, he placed everything back. Staring at the beauty products he was tempted to fix himself. Instead, he put cologne for his sake not for Gylfie. He smirked at his reflection. She would assume he put it on for her sake.
He saw the drop of blood on his collar. He was unhappy because the shirt he was wearing was actually new. He left the bathroom and gone to his closet. He could hear Gylfie was watching football.
“Love, Australia has no chance against UK,” he yelled to her from the other room. He took the bloodied shirt off and tossed it to the corner with the other dirty clothes. He took a long gray sleeve shirt and put it on.
Walking where Gylf was watching football, he could see she got to his magazines and placed them in a neat pile. He was aggravated that she touched them but it was nice. It did make the flat more cleaner. He saw she had no drink, “You want a juice?” he did bother asking if she wanted beer. “Choice is apple juice, orange juice,” he said. He opened the cold box door. “And there is Green Tea that Toshiko left behind on her last visit.” Toshiko had sometimes decided to make visits as she attempted to chat with Owen when he allowed her in on some occasions. He regretted it every time because Tosh can talk. But it was nice to have her visit when Owen was blowing off the world. This was way before he was dead. “So, what you like?”
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Post by Gylfie Murdoch on Feb 27, 2011 7:59:38 GMT -5
Ooc; I'm sorry, Owen. I was really looking
forward to replying to this today, but it's almost
midnight now and my response would be too
long to write at this stage. I may reply tomorrow,
but it depends on my motivation and the amount
of homework I get.
Again, I'm sorry. I really did want to reply to this
today. :c
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