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If Olivier’s life could get any worse, first he gets punched in the face by Thatcher. Now he has to wait in the sick-bay waiting for a medic to give him the all clear. Olivier, really wasn’t looking forward to having Kateb give him a lecture on how his words to their British counterpart were brash and arrogant.
“You know what Flament, if you wanted my attention all you had to do was ask.” The Norwegian accent pierced the almost silent room.
“Haugland, I am not in the mood to deal with your theatrics, so how about you get Kateb and get me out of this fucking sick-bay.” Olivier demanded.
“Fine. Have it your way. Oh and by the way the Doc ain’t examining your injuries, I am.” Håvard grinned as he spoke.
As Håvard rolled his chair over the laminated floor, to become face-to-face with Olivier.
“Olivier, can you tell what month it is?”
“Really?” Olivier began questioning the Norwegian’s practices. Håvard just stared back at him, egging him to respond to his question.
“The month is September, are you happy now?”
“Yes and can you tell me what the date is today?” Håvard once again asking with a softer expression
“It is the 21st”
“What year is it?”
“2020”
“Look straight ahead and keep your head still, please.” Then a light flashed into Oliver’s eyes. “Merde, you didn’t need to flash me you know.” However, Håvard didn’t reply and just kept inspecting Olivier’s face.
As Håvard was inspecting the injuries on Olivier's face, Olivier noticed the change of expression from one of fun to one of concentration in a matter of seconds. This got Olivier thinking, how does Håvard just change with a flip of a switch. Like yes, every operator has a professional side to them, yet there is something different in Håvard, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Olivier’s thought process was interrupted with Håvard breaking the silence once again.
“Well, good news, you don’t have a concussion. The cuts aren’t that bad either, well not bad enough to warrant the use of regular stitches, so I am gonna clean the wounds, put a steri-strip on and then you are free to go. Okay.”
“Whatever you say Haugland, the quicker the better.” Olivier quipped back with impatience. Håvard rolled his eyes, as he moved to retrieve equipment needed for the quick procedure.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what made Thatcher, you know, hit you in the face?” Håvard asked while motioning the punch. Olivier gave Håvard a questioning look, but decided it would be better to answer the Norwegian, than to leave it in the air.
“All you need to know is that I said something and the old man didn’t like it and the rest lead to me being stuck here with you.” As Olivier was talking about the incident, Håvard began cleaning and patching up the wound.
Olivier once again began studying Håvard’s face, as the plaster was being placed on the cut. Olivier started to notice, little things, like pale freckles littered across his face. Or how when he concentrates, Håvard tilts his head to an angle. Once again Olivier was ripped out of his thoughts with the sharp movement of Håvard snapping his head back into position.
“No wonder why Gustave didn't want to assess your injuries, you can’t seem to stop moving your head.” Håvard stated as he rolled away from Olivier’s proximity to the desk. The clipping of keys filled the crisp sterile air.
“Anyways, Flament. You are all patched up now and cleared for duty. So you are free to leave, unless you have any other questions for me?” Håvard questioned.
“My Hero”, Olivier stated sarcastically, further adding on “who knows i might even give you a five stars on your yelp page.” As Olivier moved towards the door as he was chuckling to himself, Håvard once again interrupted.
“Yelp page? I don’t have yelp? Should I make a yelp?, Flament, what is yelp?” Håvard going into overdrive into branching out onto a new media page.
“Relax, Haugland, it is just a joke. Please take my advice, DON’T MAKE A YELP PAGE.”
“Okay I will take your advice, if you take some advice from me.” Olivier nodded in agreement.
“Just be careful with our teammates, especially those who can knock you out. I rather not carry your ass back to base.” The worried look hidden behind the joyful gleam in Håvard’s eyes said it all.
“Who knows, Mr Influencer, I might take that advice.”
And with that Olivier left the medical sector of Rainbow, with a smile and small plaster on his face.