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“I’m so sorry,” the nurse—Emma—repeats. It leaves her mouth almost sheepishly, a faint dusting of pink smattered over her nose and the apples of her cheeks. She’s holding the wrapper of another butterfly needle between her fingers, tensed up and looking like she's halfway between wanting to bolt and wanting to melt into the floor.
Almost like a deer in headlights. Joy thinks it’s cute—thinks the nurse is sweet, timid in that way she used to be before med school hardened her up, forced her to elbow her way where she belonged because it was either that or spend every night reminiscing and debating if she truly missed home that badly. It scarred her up and left her tougher—it’s why she can think of far worse ways to be spending her first day in the Pitt than getting her blood drawn by a cute nurse. Dana had exited the room a few moments before, right after the previous vial of Joy’s blood had slipped from Emma’s gloved fingers and gotten smashed beneath a rolling bed. Joy figures it’d be alright to waste a little more time back here—she’s injured on the job, after all, and she could be back there with Olgivie, stamped down into his shadow of superiority and knowledge.
So, Joy relishes in it.
Emma’s gentle in her movements; had been when she first pierced the needle through Joy’s skin, when she swiped the alcohol pad over the delicate skin of Joy’s inner elbow. She’s a bundle of nervous limbs, frantic like her brain is moving faster than her hands but still stilted in a way. Joy doesn’t think she’s ever seen a nurse be so tentative. It isn’t until Emma’s tearing open the packaging of the needle that Joy speaks again, realizing she’s been quiet for a few beats too long.
“If you were a vampire, you could have just said so,” she chides, "I can be fairly altruistic if the right one comes along." She tries for lighthearted, playful, but figures she falls a little flat just like she always does. Regardless, it seems to have the wanted affect on the other girl; Emma blinks up at her, blush deepening across her nose, that nervous tension that Joy had been eyeing at the line of her shoulders beneath her scrub top loosening a bit. Her fingers fall back onto Joy’s skin pleasantly. Joy watches a stray curl fall into her eyes as she scrunches her brows together.
“Years of nursing school and my first day on the job my cover gets blown,” Emma retorts. Her tone is laced with the faintest hints of amusement, something crackling through like she’s just taken her first breath of the day.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Joy drones. She wiggles her fingers and they catch on the soft skin of Emma’s elbow. “Ready whenever you are, Count.”
Emma gives her a soft smile and a whispered “okay” before maneuvering herself like how she was before—poised over Joy’s arm, counting down softly. Joy figures it’s more for herself than for her but she’s calmed by it anyway, watching as Emma’s hands shake slightly at the wrists. The telltale pinprick of the needle enters the delicate skin of Joy’s inner elbow and the insertion is as easy as it was before, something that pleasantly surprised Joy—her veins were on the smaller side, but Emma’s gloved fingers move with a sort of practiced ease. She removes the tourniquet without being told to this time, brown eyes flickering up to Joy’s face momentarily as if she expects Joy to say something about it again.
Instead, Joy watches her; she’s prone to tucking her tongue against the backs of her teeth, mouth slightly agape in concentration. Her hands are careful as they fiddle with the vial and the connector, Joy’s blood filling the glass steadily. Joy watches the crimson red slosh against the insides of the cylinder.
“You might be the most serene I’ve ever had, Doctor,” Emma says, gaze trained on where the needle disappears into Joy’s skin. "If you're not careful, I'll end up taking all your blood from you." Joy tries her best not to squirm. Opts to squeeze the rubber ball clasped in her palm instead.
“It’s your first day?” Joy asks, latched onto the little tidbit Emma let her in on. Emma hums. Joy scrambles for anything of substance to say—something to distract herself from that churn in her stomach, the restlessness she feels underneath the other girl’s attention. Hiding in the shadows has always been easier for her.
Anything she had any hope of saying dies in the back of her throat. Emma doesn't seem to mind; she's reaching over onto the table and ripping open two squares of gauze, calm in a way she hadn't been when Dana first left them alone. She takes out the needle as easily as she put it in, leaving Joy with only the feeling of latex grazing against the inside of her forearm gently.
“I didn’t feel that at all,” Joy says dumbly. Emma glances up at her, mouth tucked into a small smile as she presses the gauze down. Blood seeps up into the webbed material, the site slightly irritated from two sticks in the same area. Emma sets the vial to the side.
“Thank you!” the girl beams. She doesn't move the fingers holding the gauze down, eyes flickering above Joy’s head as she mulls over her next words. Joy’s hand twitches towards where Emma’s gloved fingers touch her skin, telling herself it’s merely a silent invitation letting the other girl know that she’d take her place if she wanted to. “You were actually my first stick of the day.”
Emma seems to notice Joy’s creeping fingers; she lets Joy take her place, opting to grab the vial of Joy’s blood so she can initial it properly. Joy tamps down the disappointment that shivers through her. Emma holds onto the vial more firmly this time, Joy notices. They all have to learn somehow.
“What can I say,” Joy mumbles, “I’m charitable like that.”
“Definitely!” Emma agrees. She pockets her pen, fixing Joy with a look. Joy folds her elbow up and looks away. Emma’s eyes are big and round, even underneath the harsh fluorescence of the hospital, something sparkling in them like a quiet determination. “I’m gonna get you some crackers and a Sprite, okay?”
Joy’s brows furrow. Before she can open her mouth around the question, Emma’s gloved fingers are closing around the edges of the curtain and pulling it back.
“I may be a vamp,” she starts, one foot out the door, free hand still closed around Joy’s blood, “but I’m not heartless. I gotta take care of you even after I get all your blood.”
The curtain makes a sharp noise as Emma steps back into the hurried bustle of the Pitt. Joy stares at the space she’s left, something warm fizzing in her gut.
Maybe her debt could be worth it.