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The slide shatters on the floor of the lab neatly. "Shoot," I gripe, and bracing myself against the edge of the table, I stoop to retrieve it. I somehow misjudge the trajectory of my grab and I fumble the broken piece I was aiming for. The glass neatly slices a deep line of red across my finger tip, and blood instantly wells into the space.
I stand, a little alarmed. "Double shoot," I say, and I don't like the little wobble in my voice. I'm not usually one to faint at the sight of blood, but after having been in a coma for a decade and now I have to contend with the vagaries of space, clearly I'm not exactly my usual stalwart self.
"Friend Grace? Is okay, question?" Rocky's voice comes from outside the lab, and I detect a little concern there. Clearly that wobble sounded more drastic to an Eridian.
There's actually a lot of blood. Did I hit an artery? I tilt the finger to the side, and wouldn't you know. Of course I did. Mega shoot. "Uhhh..." yeah that wobble has permanent residence in my voice now. "Yeah I'm good, just--" I cast around, trying to remember if there was anything in the lab to staunch blood with. There's probably a first aid kit here somewhere. I raise my hand above my head in a vain attempt to slow the blood flow while I try to remember where there might be like cotton balls in here.
This was the wrong choice to make, as Rocky chooses that moment to descend. He must have walked into a spectacle: his weird leaky space blob friend, arm aloft, with a trickle of blood coursing down his appendage. He makes a little alarmed yelp. "Grace! Your fluids!" The phrasing is unintentionally hilarious, and I can't help but laugh. There's a tiiiiny tinge of hysteria there that I elect to ignore in that giggle. "Is not funny! Your body requires a certain volume of fluids!"
I'm smacking the edges of cabinets with my elbows to try to get them to open, since I'm using my other hand to try to clamp the finger. "No no, it's fine, I have to loose like a *lot* of blood before that becomes an issue. Like, two pints of blood. This is just a nuisance amount."
"??" Rocky's questioning sound still sounds a little strained. For good reason. There is now blood on the edges of several cabinets. It's starting to look like a scene from a slasher film. I find a little cache of sterile cotton wipes, and wrestle it out of the plastic package. Moor blood falls to the floor. Am I anemic? What the actual hell is going on?
"Don't worry, Rocky. This isn't serious," I reassure. My teacher voice is out. I haven't had too many instances where I've needed to use the calm but authoritative gear, since my style is more relaxed and approachable, but hey sometimes kids are accident prone. Just like stupid science teachers. My finger is now firmly cocooned in a bunch of wadded fabric. My heart is beating a little too fast, and I feel a little nauseous. That's just the fear response, surely, but I do not relish the idea of a head injury due to sick monkey hindbrain condition. I crouch where I am, and elevate my arm.
It's not enough. The world is actually starting to spin a little. I sit on my butt and ease myself backward, keeping the hand above my heart. As I do, I catch sight of Rocky in his little xenonite terrarium. He's doing a little freaked out jig-- two of his arms are up and out, as though trying to catch me, while two others are spread wide as though to provide balance for himself. The others are skittering nervously, causing him to move in place a bit. I recognize it for the human equivalent of reaching out to guide a kid who's standing somewhere high, or bracing a dumbass on a rickety ladder.
"Go team," I say faintly, and close my eyes. I try to focus on my heart rate to slow it down, coax it back from that panic. "Grace??" Rocky's tone is properly alarmed now. I wonder if there's something more wrong, and snap my eyes open. "What?"
Rocky relaxes visibly. "Your heart rate slowing."
"Yeah, that's on purpose. Fight or flight response. Earth thing. Nervous system thinks it's being attacked, so it dumps chemicals into the blood to let you run from the threat."
"While shedding blood? Inefficient." Rocky's voice is both skeptical and judgmental. I have to laugh again.
"You'd be surprised, pal. A lot of species manage to survive just by outrunning what's trying to kill them. Usually we stop bleeding sooner than this." I ease the gauze away. The blood has slowed, but it hasn't stopped. I close my eyes again, and take a deep breath. "I wish I had a styptic here. This nonsense is getting in the way of science." I actually can't remember where the glass is. I lift one leg and hear a faint tinkle as glass falls away from the bottom of the thick sock. At least I'm not lying in it.
One my nervous system comes back from it's fainting goat routine, I'll take a sample of my blood and make sure this isn't anemia or something. I guess it's possible the diet the nanny bot is feeding me might be a little short in nutrients, but unlikely. Knowing Stratt, she wouldn't have accounted for every last micronutrient down to selenium, let alone iron.
What would be more alarming is that this is due to some unknown exposure that I hadn't accounted for. I finally don't feel like I'm going to add puke to decorate the blood drops on the floor. I open my eyes and give Rocky a Competent Adult Smile. He tilts himself dubiously.
"Hey now, lab accidents happen," I try to defend myself. Rocky has been quiet this whole time, just watching me. He gives the Eridian equivalent of a head shake. "What Grace need, question? Tell me."
"Just gimme a minute buddy. I'll be okay." I hear Rocky come closer, and I hear him stop not far from me. "You rest. I watch."