This is McCoy. Leave your name and a message, and I'll get back to you when I can. If this is a medical emergency, hang up and proceed to the nearest medical facility immediately.
[He says this with some bemusement, but hey, it's not the worst he's had and McCoy... knows that. Kyle stills, and listens to his heart pounding in his ears (it had stopped, once, when the Qwardian blade went through him, and the whole world had stopped with it), and pays attention.]
Right there, I thought I just pulled a muscle. Apparently not.
I'll make it as quick or slow as I damn well please! Can't rush perfection, kid!
[ Placing one hand above Kyle's heart to stabilize him, his other moves along his back until he can find the right angle against his palm. ]
Now breathe out.
[ As soon as Kyle does, Bones shoves his palm into the rib to force it back where it belongs. Technically, it's no longer message therapy when you forcibly pummel the thing into submission, but Kyle did say quick. he always tries to follow his patients' wishes. ]
[ He lifts the top off and can't help but whistle with appreciation. ]
Sure is some pretty fine whiskey here. I'll hafta make you one of my famous mint juleps sometime...
[ Taking each bottle out, he finds dark spiced rum, and one bottle of tequila which will be immediately shelved. Bones doesn't need to go anywhere near that stuff. ]
A li'l Romulan ale and we'd have a real party on our hands.
Are you kiddin' me? Doctors make the best bartenders!
[ All that chemistry forced down their throats had wonderful extracurricular potential! There's also the fact that doctors are the ones drunk most of the time, but Kyle doesn't need to know that. It's not something he can talk about with a level head yet. ]
Remember that...
[ Yes, okay, you can come over and get drunk with Bones if you need to talk about your feels. DOORS ALWAYS OPEN, KID. ]
[ The doctor pauses for a moment at his comment and snorts, squatting down like he hadn't stopped at all. ]
Yeah, get that side.
[ With both hands securing the edge of the crate, Bones waits for Kyle to get a hold before lifting it up and into his house. ]Goddamn this is a lot! Alright, alright, let's put it in the kitchen.
[ They put it on the floor out of the way so he can rummage through it once he finds time. ]
Ha, yer hilarious, kid. Listen, don't tell Jim about this until I've hidden it all well and good. That man's like a goddamn pig on a truffle hunt sometimes.
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[ Thumb and index finger press lightly against the last rib on his back. ]
Well, shockingly, they can float around where they really don't belong.
[ He follows the the seam of the rib to his spine, poking gently along the way. ]
They hurt at all? Pressin' against somethin' they shouldn't?
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[He says this with some bemusement, but hey, it's not the worst he's had and McCoy... knows that. Kyle stills, and listens to his heart pounding in his ears (it had stopped, once, when the Qwardian blade went through him, and the whole world had stopped with it), and pays attention.]
Right there, I thought I just pulled a muscle. Apparently not.
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Alright. Well, there's a pretty simple way to fix that: Good ol' fashioned elbow grease.
[ Is Bones going to enjoy this? Yes. Yes, he is. ]
Breathe in.
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Just make it quick.
[He's got to play up being young and reckless, doesn't he? 8D]
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[ Placing one hand above Kyle's heart to stabilize him, his other moves along his back until he can find the right angle against his palm. ]
Now breathe out.
[ As soon as Kyle does, Bones shoves his palm into the rib to force it back where it belongs. Technically, it's no longer message therapy when you forcibly pummel the thing into submission, but Kyle did say quick. he always tries to follow his patients' wishes. ]
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I think it worked!
[Then his expression becomes pensive, and casually:] You know, I usually break people's noses for calling me kid.
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[ He moves around the other side of Kyle and lays his hands back on the young man. ]
Well [ McCoy's eyebrow slides up his forehead. ] Good thing I'm a doctor, then.
Breathe in again.
[ He follows through on the last rib, pressing it back into place where it belongs. ]
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Fine. I suppose you can.
[You were kind to me.]
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There. Good as new--Woulda been a lot earlier if ya hadn't dug yer heels in like an Alabama tick! Stubborn'll only ever get you dead.
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[It's a mild chastisement, and he grins up at Bones, bright and earnest.]
Thanks.
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Yer welcome. [ It's gruff, but the good doctor slaps him on the shoulder to tell him he's all done. ]
And thank you for the liquor. Though, it makes me wonder if you take me for some kinda alcoholic...
[ Seriously, a crate?! NOT that Bones is complaing! ]
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[He gets up, and stretches.]
Thought you might need it. That's not native alcohol, I got it last landfall. Probably the only crate of its kind in the city, so use sparingly.
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[ He lifts the top off and can't help but whistle with appreciation. ]
Sure is some pretty fine whiskey here. I'll hafta make you one of my famous mint juleps sometime...
[ Taking each bottle out, he finds dark spiced rum, and one bottle of tequila which will be immediately shelved. Bones doesn't need to go anywhere near that stuff. ]
A li'l Romulan ale and we'd have a real party on our hands.
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[He smiles, fondly as the bottles are examined.]
What, you're a mixologist too?
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[ All that chemistry forced down their throats had wonderful extracurricular potential! There's also the fact that doctors are the ones drunk most of the time, but Kyle doesn't need to know that. It's not something he can talk about with a level head yet. ]
Remember that...
[ Yes, okay, you can come over and get drunk with Bones if you need to talk about your feels. DOORS ALWAYS OPEN, KID. ]
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[He walks over to the crate.]
Need any help carrying it in?
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Yeah, get that side.
[ With both hands securing the edge of the crate, Bones waits for Kyle to get a hold before lifting it up and into his house. ] Goddamn this is a lot! Alright, alright, let's put it in the kitchen.
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Don't drink all at once!
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[ They put it on the floor out of the way so he can rummage through it once he finds time. ]
Ha, yer hilarious, kid. Listen, don't tell Jim about this until I've hidden it all well and good. That man's like a goddamn pig on a truffle hunt sometimes.
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On one condition. I don't get any more checkups.
[He's actually joking. He didn't mind.]
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[ SARCASM™ ]
How 'bout this? Stop bein' a stubborn ass and you wouldn't need check-ups.
[ But lulz that's never going to happen so CHECK-UPS FOREVER AND ALWAYS. ]