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“Skizz? I’m gonna need you to knock that off.” Impulse muttered, reaching up to adjust his trilby.
“But…c’mon, man! We’re doing a secret mission!” Skizz protested, the giant ten-gallon hat jammed over his head doing literally nothing to contain the angelic glow from his hidden halo.
“Yeah, and if you keep humming the mission impossible theme, we are totally gonna get rumbled. Just…let me do the talking, got it?” Impulse said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his face mask. He slipped it on, throwing the cords over his ears, and Skizz did the same.
Both reached into the pockets of their long trenchcoats and pulled out a pair of sunglasses each.
“Man, do we gotta wear these sunglasses? They fog up with my mask!” Skizz grumbled, “We don’t need to hide our eyes, right?”
“Skizz. Dude. I’m here to rob these idiots blind. Don’t really want my eyes on camera.” Impulse said, his demonic tail giving a little flick that pushed up the back of his trenchcoat oh-so-subtly, “Just, like, deal with it. We’re cool. I’ll do the talking, okay?”
“Okay,” Skizz grumbled.
Just as they approached the door, Impulse pulled out a pair of leather gloves and slid them over his hands, concealing his razor-sharp claws and the few yellow pustules visible on the backs of his hands, as well as the ill-coloured black patches of skin that traced along his veins. Covered up, he smirked behind his mask.
The hospital doors slid open, and they both stepped inside.
The first smell that permeated the masks was a strong scent of cleaning fluid, antiseptic and harsh; Impulse’s eyes watered at the horrid stench, and he ambled over to a front desk in an alcove, surrounded by tired-looking people in cheap plastic chairs.
Behind a plastic shield was a pleasant-looking nurse wearing pink scrubs and a face mask, who looked a little taken aback at two large men in trenchcoats and sunglasses approaching her desk.
She glanced down at something stuck to the counter, well out of Impulse’s sight, and then over at where Skizz had once again flexed through the arms of his trenchcoat.
And she smiled, her eyes crinkling up behind the mask.
“Well hello!” she said brightly, “And how can I help you two today? Do you have an appointment for bloodwork?”
“Not really,” Impulse said smoothly, “Can you direct us to the, uh, infectious disease ward? My, uh…”
Impulse glanced at his palm.
“-My cousin is in. I want to visit him.”
The nurse grinned.
“Down the hall at the end. First left. Please check in with the head nurse before you visit your cousin!” she said brightly, “Have a lovely day, you two!”
Impulse grinned, even though she couldn’t see it. This was too easy.
“Thank you so much. You take care!” he said cheerfully, “Come on, dude. Let’s go see my…cousin.”
As the two men walked away from the check-in counter, the nurse glanced at the photo pinned up under the desk.
It was a simple snapshot from a security camera, featuring two men dressed identically to the two she’d just spoken to. Glowing light under the ten-gallon hat, unnatural bulkiness under the longcoats. The nurse smiled as she looked at what was written in sharpie next to the picture.
IF YOU SEE THESE MEN- LET THEM GO WHEREVER THEY WANT.
Skizz leaned to duck around a large Christmas tree someone had set up in the lobby of the ward, smiling at the small pile of presents underneath it. Most were decorative, but a few weren’t- he could tell from the different wrapping paper and the labels with actual names on them. Skizz shook his head and kept walking.
They’d gotten stopped at the entrance by a smirking nurse, and been forced to change their masks- something both men complied with while ducking away from the security cameras. That done, they’d basically been given run of the ward- a privilege Skizz very much intended to abuse.
At no point did he consider that that was at all unusual.
A faint feeling of ill health filled the air as he walked, and Skizz shuddered. Underneath his coat, his wings puffed up uncomfortably.
This ward reeked of filth and disease. He could smell it in the air and it rankled- every atom of his being was unsettled by this place. He had to make things better. He had to make things right.
“I love this place,” Impulse chuckled, “Best place in the whole world, right?”
“If you say so, dude.” Skizz said as they elbowed past a nurse, “Can you at least be a little discreet about things this time?”
“I’ll try my best!” Impulse said cheerfully.
They turned left down a hallway, and Skizz could feel the waves of sickness emanating from behind every closed door. They had a lot of work to do.
“So, mister angel, where do we start?” Impulse said, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, “I’m good for wherever.”
“Uh, first on the left, I guess?” Skizz said with a shrug, “Let’s go for it!”
And he twisted the handle and stepped inside.
This was an older hospital, Skizz noted. Older, and thus, the isolation protocols were…well, they weren’t entirely up to his standards, say. Three beds to a room, separated by curtains, with one toilet to share. It really ground his gears- if he could, he’d provide a floor plan to the hospital, the optimum way to isolate-
But, money. Humans and money. They didn’t have the unlimited resources that he did.
And anyway, he was here to help-
A rattling noise behind him caught Skizz’s attention, and he turned to see Impulse holding the sharps bin. He’d pulled it off the wall and was rattling the container of used syringes around, holding it up to the light and peering at it.
“Dude. Remember when I said ‘Try to be discreet’? That’s not discreet!” Skizz hissed.
“It’s fine!” Impulse insisted, prizing the top off and shoving a leather-gloved hand inside, “There’s a strain in here I don’t have in my collection, let me just…”
Impulse pulled out a specific syringe, and then dropped it back in the bin.
“Actually, I’m keeping this whole thing. There’s a ton of goodies in here!” Impulse said eagerly.
“You’re impossible.” Skizz sighed, and he stepped into the room.
Skizz stepped up to the first bed and drew the curtain back, walking up to the bed. Drab, dated, but clean enough; a young woman was laying in a mountain of blankets, fiddling with an ipad and looking very bored.
She glanced up and quirked an eyebrow.
Skizz took in the half-eaten lunch tray next to her and the IV line plugged into her arm, and he smiled behind his mask, reaching up and taking off his sunglasses.
The woman shrank back.
“Uh,” she said, “Who…who are you?”
“I’m…uh…I’m- I’m a…phys- I’m a healer.” Skizz said honestly, after a moment’s deliberation, “I’m- I can heal you. Who, uh, what’s your name?”
“Michelle.” She said flatly, staring him down.
Skizz grinned. “Okay! Hi Michelle. So, uh, I’m here to help!”
“Uh-huh. Right. And…what kind of…’help’ did you have in mind?” She said, one hand emerging from under the blankets to jab the ‘call nurse’ button.
“Uh,” Skizz said, “Well, I’m- See, I can- I can heal people, like I said. I can-“
Oh, good going, Skizz. Smooth as butter. She didn’t look incredibly panicked at all.
A loud sigh from behind him drew both Skizz’s attention and Michelle’s.
“This,” Impulse said, the entire sharps bin under his arm, “Is my friend Skizz. And he can make you better. Look.”
Impulse grabbed Skizz’s hat and lifted it up, revealing his halo.
She gasped.
“You’re a-“
“Shh! Not so loud, okay?” Skizz said, “We’re doing this, like, sneaky-style. This is a stealth mission, okay?”
“Doctors don’t like it when miracles happen.” Impulse said idly, “by the way, are you done with that tissue?”
Michelle and Skizz both stared at the dirty snotrag on her food tray.
“Uh, sure?” she said blankly, “Wha-“
“Don’t mind him.” Skizz said gently, “Okay, Impy, what have we got?”
Impulse lowered his mask, sniffed the air, and put it back up.
“…Yeah, a really unexciting strain of…That-Which-Makes-The-Flesh-Seethe.” Impulse’s words slipped into Demonic, the vulgar burn of the language striking at Skizz’s ears. He nodded once- translated into English, the name of the disease was meaningless, but in Demonic it was extremely specific. He knew exactly what he was dealing with.
“Anyway. Strainwise…Doesn’t matter what. Boring.” Impulse said with a roll of his eyes (not that anyone could see behind the sunglasses.) “It’s in the left foot, mostly. Hasn’t gone too far.”
Skizz nodded.
“Okay. So, here’s how this works- I need to take your hand. You’ll feel all warm for a minute, and then the infection should be gone. Then we’ll help the others in here, and you call the nurse when we’re done. Sound good?”
“What’s the catch?” she asked, as Impulse shuffled over and swiped her used tissue off the snack tray and threw it in his sharps bin.
“There’s no catch. Well, besides letting my friend take your noserag.” Skizz said with a smile, “That’s it. I heal you, and you’re better. Great, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…pretty great.”
“So. Consent. Do you want me to help you?” Skizz said, leaning forward seriously.
Michelle laughed.
“You kidding? It’s almost Christmas. My parents are at home, I gotta look after them. I don’t care if this is a dream. My foot hurts. Get me out of here!” she said, and Skizz nodded.
He peeled off his rubber glove, and took her hand.
Impulse grumbled and turned his back.
“She had it on the ropes,” he muttered, “I mean, she did with the antibiotics. Spoilsport.”
The bed was glowing so brightly it was illuminating the other beds in the room, waking the other two patients up.
“What’s happening?” an older woman called, and the woman Skizz was treating laughed.
“A Christmas miracle!” Michelle said, “My foot doesn’t hurt anymore!”
Impulse rolled his eyes again.
The vile angelic glow stopped, and he turned around again.
“Okay, Impy, how’s it look?” Skizz asked, letting go of her hand.
Impulse lowered his mask again and sniffed.
“Nah, all gone. I mean, the germ is. Nice job.” Impulse said.
“Should I call the nurse?” the woman in the bed on the end called, and their patient laughed.
“No! Just let these guys help you. I’m cured!”
“Ugh.” Impulse said. He lowered his mask and sniffed the air again- and he wrinkled his nose.
“Okay. Skizz, lady on the end has That-Which-Insults-The-Sinuses and the one in the middle’s got…another incredibly boring strain of That-Which-Blasphemes-The-Skin. Wow. I’ll go wait outside. Thrill-a-minute in here…” Impulse said sarcastically, despite the smile on his face.
“Thanks, Impy.” Skizz said with a big smile.
“Yeah, no problem.” Impulse said, stepping out into the hall.
And right into a big cart with several bright red bags full of treasures!
Impulse’s eyes lit up, and the plague demon started picking up the red trash bags. Each one was double-layered, and all marked with the lovely and inviting BIOHAZARDOUS WASTE symbol.
That smile faded as he sifted through the sealed bags one by one.
“Boring…” he muttered, dropping one bag back onto the cart, “Boring…” he muttered to another.
A few minutes of rummaging later, and Impulse was rather put out. He hadn’t even needed to open any of them- Just a quick sniff test was enough. Every single one of the little bags was something he already had- or worse, perfectly “clean” waste.
(Well, clean from his rather skewed perspective.)
He’d have to keep looking to see if there was anything fun to add to his collection.
Skizz emerged from the room a minute later, and Impulse shook his head in disappointment.
“All stuff I’ve already got.” Impulse said sadly.
“Awww! Well, that’s a shame!” Skizz said in that cheerfully sarcastic way that never failed to make Impulse roll his eyes.
“Anyway, we got a bunch more to get through. You wanna hit the cancer ward after this?” Impulse said idly.
“Yeah, that’s a must do. Lots of people needing help down there. Wait, since when are you eager for the cancer ward?” Skizz said, doing a double take.
Impulse took off his sunglasses so Skizz could see his smirk.
“I’ve been…testing something new.” Impulse said, pushing his sunglasses back up.
Skizz shuddered.
“Okay, well, NOW I’m worried. Okay, fine. Anyway. Next room!”
Impulse lead the charge to the next room in the hall, turning the handle to find a large ward with six beds separated by more plastic curtains.
Skizz wrinkled his nose. Every screened-off bed had its own CRT television, and with all six TV’s going at once, the high-pitched whine was absolutely deafening. He shuddered, and glanced over to see Impulse also shaking his head at the awful noise.
“I got a computer virus for the occasion, if you want…” Impulse muttered, and Skizz shook his head.
“One, I can’t cure those, they’re not alive. Two, if it gets loose and wipes everyone’s medical records…” Skizz let the sentence hang, and Impulse sighed.
“You’re no fun.”
“Yeah, but like, dude. We got a job to do. Okay, so. Diagnosis?”
Impulse lowered his mask and sniffed the air.
And his mouth instantly shot up into a big, BIG smile.
Skizz’s stomach dropped like a stone and cold panic began to creep into his chest.
“Okay,” Impulse said, putting his mask up, “Along the left… That-Which-Bubbles-The-Skin, That-Which-Dissects-The-Throat, and That-Which-Scorches-The-Lungs. On the right, we got…same sort of thing, slightly different species and locations- guy in the middle’s got something, I think last I saw it was surgery related? That-Which-Eats-The-Surgeon’s-Mark… But it’s pretty weak, and the antibiotics they’ve got him on are working a treat. Anyway. Easy enough for you to fix. But on the end…”
Impulse rubbed his hands together eagerly.
“Oh, that thing is RESISTANT! I’ve got to introduce myself to this guy-“
“Impulse!” Skizz cut in, “Okay, triage. Who’s critical?”
“Guy on the end.” Impulse said without hesitation. He lowered his mask again and took another sniff of the air.
As he put it back up, Skizz caught the frown.
“Actually… Hey, I don’t…Huh. Okay, so that’s…That-Which-Boils-The-Blood, alright. I know the smell anywhere. But that’s a strain…I don’t have that strain. Okay, we gotta talk to this guy.”
Skizz swallowed as they walked past the row of beds. That name was never, ever good news, and it meant he was probably useless for this outing.
“How bad is it?”
Impulse stopped for another sniff of the air.
“Bad. Real bad. Uh…No estimates, but…it’s…oh, dude. You might want to let me handle this one.” Impulse said.
He took his sunglasses off and put his mask back up, and Skizz swallowed.
If Impulse was offering to step in, this guy was in dire, DIRE straights.
“Do you even have a-?”
“For this? No. But he does, I’ll bet.” Impulse said with a nod, and he pushed aside the curtain.
Lying on a bed was a man, blankets up to his neck, asleep. Banks of monitors were hooked up to him, and he had at least a dozen IV bags plugged into a port on his chest- Skizz watched his heart rate monitor for a few seconds. Elevated, and he could sense the fever from here.
Skizz bit his lip. He could...He didn’t have a lot of options. Some sicknesses fought back against him, and in those cases his only option was totally obliterating every germ in the patient’s body. Which, considering that the human body relied on the microbiome in the guts to function…was not exactly ideal.
“They still got him on generalized antibiotics?!” Impulse growled, “what kind of clown show is this hospital running, here? Jeez, make my job easy, why don’t you!”
That outburst had the patient stirring, and Skizz shot Impulse a withering glare. He glanced at the patient’s chart- they still hadn’t identified the infection. Of course.
“They don’t know what it is, dude. The doctors are doing the best they can.” Skizz said, putting the chart back.
“Ugh. Well, guess it’s up to me, then.” And Impulse pulled up a chair and sat down next to the patient.
The man woke up with a grunt, eyes flicking open. He looked like he was in serious pain.
Skizz reached up and took off his hat, letting the man see his halo.
“Oh.” The man grunted, “Fuck. It’s fucking Christmas. Can you fuck off for like…a week? My kids are…”
The man groaned in pain. He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings.
He grunted, “Look, just…It’s not my time yet, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” Impulse said cheerfully, “What’s your name?”
“Mitch.” The man grunted, “Who are you two?”
“I’m Skizz, and this is Impulse!” Skizz said brightly, “We’re uh…here to help.”
“Right. Sure. You guys doctors? You can’t be. You’re here for my soul, right?” the man sighed, and Impulse chuckled.
“Actually, no! We’re here to help. So. Here’s the thing. I can probably make you better,” Impulse said, “but unlike Skizz here, I don’t work for free.”
There was a moment of silence.
The man stared at him, and then rolled his head over to look at a backpack propped on the bedside table.
“I got,” he grunted, “Debit card. Just- take it. I’ll give you the PIN. You can clean me out. If I get to live, you can have all of my-“
“Uh, no. I don’t want money.” Impulse said, shocked. “No, so- Skizz, am I doing this right?”
“Sort of.” Skizz said, “Patient consult, dude. Explain the treatment you’re offering, then explain the risks and complications, and then you explain the drawbacks and the odds of success. Then ask for consent, and prepare for them to say no. At least, that’s how I generally do it. I’m not really a doctor, though. I just do the healing part.”
“Right, got it. Okay. So, I’m…You’ve got an infection of…uh, I genuinely don’t know what it’s called in English, but I- trust me, I know what it is.” Impulse said lamely.
“Then, like…tell the doctors. They can’t figure out what I’ve got.” Mitch grunted.
“It’s, uh- I’d honestly rather not…Anyway, I know what you have, but I’m not much help to the- doctors. Yeah. Again, I don’t know what to call it in English. It’s antibiotic resistant, and they need to- well, I’m not sure if they have the right stuff…Actually, Skizz, can you add some notes to that chart?” Impulse said, and Skizz nodded.
He grabbed a pen from Mitch’s bag, clicked it, and wrote a list of symptoms, making a little drawing of the bacterium in the corner. He knew what Impulse was talking about, even if neither of them knew the binomial name for it.
“So I’m gonna die, then.” Mitch grunted, “I’m gonna die, and that’s why you’re here. For, like, my soul. Right?”
“Uh, no, actually.” Impulse said brightly, “We’re here to help you get better. So. Um. Basically, you have two treatment options. My friend can kill every bacteria in your body, which isn’t…ideal. It’ll really mess your guts up for months to come. Or…uh, I can help.”
“What…do you want to do?” Mitch asked.
“Well. So, bacteria are often preyed on by viruses called ‘bacteriophages’. If you let me take a sample, I can…uh, ‘cultivate’ some bacteriophages that should wipe out your infection- or at least severely weaken it so the antibiotics the hospital has can do the rest.”
The man stared at him.
“The catch?” he said.
Impulse scratched his chin with his leather-gloved hand.
“It’ll leave one hell of a scar and I’ll have to, uh, drink your blood.” Impulse said awkwardly, “Which is also my payment, by the way. Not- Not like vampire-style! I just poke you and lick the blood drop. Okay?”
“…How are you gonna avoid getting sick?” Mitch asked, and Impulse sighed.
He reached up and pulled his hat off.
Revealing a pair of horns protruding from his skull.
“I’m not exactly a normal person.” He said gently, and Mitch nodded frantically.
“Oh. Okay. I get it. Uh, now, when you go back down, you, uh, don’t- take me with you, okay-“
Impulse laughed.
“Don’t worry,” he said gently, “That’s not my department. I just do disease. So. Are you okay with this? You can say no.”
Mitch rolled his eyes up to look at his collection of IV’s, and then down at his swollen, heavily infected arm.
“I don’t want to die.” He said flatly, “Do it.”
“Alright. I’ll help with pain.” Skizz said, taking Mitch’s hand.
Impulse pulled off his leather glove, revealing his long, sharp claws. He reached up with his other gloved hand and lowered his mask.
“This’ll pinch a bit,” Impulse said gently, stabbing a claw into Mitch’s arm.
“That’s not sterile,” Mitch grunted.
“No. But I can take care of that.” Skizz said gently, “Besides, that’s the problem with this guy. Everything he does is gross.”
Impulse licked the drop of blood off his claw, and put his mask back up. The other two watched him swallow. Mitch gagged, and Skizz shuddered with revulsion.
“You’re insane.” Mitch said, “That’s not medicine, that’s just-“
“Shhh.” Impulse said, “Okay, so, got it. Yeah, you got a good crop of phages here. Just…okay, yeah. So, I got something for you. Do you want me to give you a dose? It should be a one-and-done shot.”
Mitch turned to look at Skizz.
Skizz just nodded.
“He’s done it before, and it’s healed people.” Skizz said gently.
“Alright. Go for it, then.” Mitch said, “Wait, how are you gonna administer-?”
Impulse shoved a hand under his clothes, rummaging around with his talons in the depths under his t-shirt. There was a horrible squelching noise, and Impulse hissed. When he pulled his hand out from under his clothes, three of his claws were dripping with yellow…ooze.
“I’ll scratch your arm with this,” Impulse said, “And Skizz will clean up anything that’s not a phage. This WILL leave a really nasty scar, though. It’s not clean and pretty when I do it. You okay with that?”
Mitch took a deep breath.
“Yeah. Fuck it, I don’t care. Do it.” He said with a sigh.
Impulse sank his claws into the man’s infected arm and dragged them down, three identical clawmarks that instantly welled up with blood. Skizz reached over a second later and sent a pulse of white light into Mitch’s arm, sealing up the wounds; all that was left were three raised scars, huge and white.
Mitch stared at his arm.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Now you just sit back and wait.” Impulse stood up with a grin, licking the blood off his claws, “And it’s-“
“Impy. Stop doing that. It’s unsanitary.” Skiss hissed, practically hurling a bottle of hand sanitizer at his head, “Clean your claws and get your gloves back on. We’ve got five other people in this ward who are all probably calling-“
It was at this point that the plastic curtain slid aside and Skizz and Impulse found themselves staring at three nurses and five members of the security team.
“-Security.” Skizz said, jamming his hat back on his head, “Uh, hi!”
“You gentlemen are going to need to come with us,” the head security guard said, shoving his way to the front, “You’re disrupting-“
“Wait.” The nurse they had with them said, “Wait, hold on. You two…”
Impulse and Skizz shared a look.
“Me?” Impulse said, slipping his glove back on, “what did I do?”
It was at this point that a doctor walked into the room, and burst out laughing when he saw the commotion.
“Oh! Merry Christmas, you two. Paul!” the doctor said, at which the head security guard turned to face him in shock, “Let these two be.”
“But- they’ve been running around- We’ve got this guy on camera rummaging through multiple sharps bins and a biohazardous waste cart-“ Paul protested, and the doctor shook his head.
“And that’s his own stupid fault if he dies of a flesh-eating bacteria or HIV, then, isn’t it?” the doctor said, “No, these two are fine. It’s alright.”
A few seconds of tense staredown followed, and the doctor sighed.
“And I invited them here to do this.” He lied.
The guard’s shoulders slumped,
“You sure?” the guard said, and the doctor nodded.
“Yeah. Leave them be.”
Paul sighed, and he turned to glare at Impulse.
“You. Stop causing chaos. And stop rummaging around in bins of medical waste, you lunatic!” He said.
“Wait, that guy was rummaging in WHAT?!” Mitch yelled, and Skizz turned around.
“It’s fine. I- I fixed it. And he had gloves on while he was doing that. I promise.” Skizz said rather frantically.
Under the doctor’s withering stare, the team of security guards and nurses filed out of the room.
Leaving Impulse staring at the doctor in shock.
“Doctor Skelding,” the man said, offering a hand and shaking both Impulse and Skizz’s startled hands, “Pleased to meet the both of you in person. And you are? The truth, please.”
“I’m, uh, I’m Skizz.” He said, and he elbowed Impulse.
“I’m- Impulse.” Came the strangled reply a second later.
“Good, good.” the doctor stepped forward, checking Mitch’s chart, and sliding it back into place.
“Right, okay. Ah, so that’s what it looks like? That’ll be a big help.” Doctor Skelding muttered, ambling over to the IV lines.
“Uh,” Skizz said, “dude, are you like…are you gonna check that with the lab, or like…?”
The doctor shook his head. His smirk was visible behind his mask.
“Oh, of course. These notes will be a huge help down in the lab. But next time, get a visitor’s pass, you two.”
“Wait, hold on. Stop. You know us?” Impulse said, holding his hands up, “Are you-? What?”
The doctor chuckled.
“We have security cameras in every hallway!” he said with a laugh, “And I know you two are big on asking my patients to not tell anyone, but the thing is, when someone makes a miraculous recovery from a life-threatening illness, they do like to tell the team that helped them along the way. It’s just nice to put names to our two little guardian angels-“
“Demon.” Impulse blurted, before clapping a hand over his mouth.
“And THAT explains your weird habit of stealing biohazardous waste…” the doctor said with a grin, “Anyway. You two keep doing what you’re doing. You’re welcome back here anytime.”
Silence.
“Man,” Impulse groused, “There goes my fun of sneaking around in like, mission impossible gear…”
“I would keep the hats on, though.” the doctor advised, examining Mitch’s arm, “by the way, what did you do here?”
“Phage therapy.” Impulse grumbled, folding his arms.
“Ahhh, clever. It’s not really licensed for use by hospitals, I’ll have you know.” the doctor said, carefully examining Mitch’s new scar.
Impulse huffed again and folded his arms.
“Well that’s stupid.” Skizz said, “Why not?”
“Lots of very complicated reasons, but suffice it to say it’s a lot harder for us ordinary people to make phages obey our will than it is for your friend there.” Doctor Skelding said with a soft smile behind his mask.
There was a moment of silence.
Impulse picked up his sharps bin off the floor.
“…Can I have that IV line when he’s done with it then?” he asked innocently, and Skizz facepalmed.
The doctor turned to look at him.
“Don’t push your luck.” He said, gesturing at the sharps bin, “Thank you so much for your help- really- but you’re going to put that box right back where you found it, got it? Or I really will call security and get them to escort you out. Medical waste isn’t a toy, sir.”
Impulse’s shoulders sagged sadly, and Skizz patted him on the back.
“There, there Impy. It’s alright.” Skizz said, barely-restrained glee on his voice.
“You’re all jerks.” Impulse sighed, tucking his box of goodies under his arm, “Fine, I’ll put it back.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” The doctor said, “Now, stop messing with sharps bins, and enjoy the rest of your day.”
Impulse sighed and looked around the room.
“Okay, Skizz. The rest of these guys are all you. I’ll go…put this back.” Impulse grumbled, “Jerks…”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Impy!” Skizz cackled as his best friend walked out of the ward.