"You're here," said Ocelot, announcing the obvious.
He turned back to the bed, crossing his arms.
"The Colonel's been poisoned. They think it's arsenic. Since no one knows where the good doctor has gone, the nurses have taken charge."
He shrugged.
"Better than I could do."
Ocelot frowned, watching the young Svetlana and the older chief of nurses ready an unpleasant looking device with a long tube.
His eyes narrowed.
"What end is that going in?" he demanded, uneasily.
"Hush," said the older nurse. "It's just a tube for gastric lavage."
"For what?"
"A stomach pump," she said, firmly. "It's been less than an hour-" here she looked at the elusive Lynx, who nodded affirmatively, meeting her gaze with troubled blue eyes, "-therefore, most of the poison can be retrieved before it even passes into his system."
Ocelot made a face that eloquently expressed his feelings on gastric lavage.
"You don't have to watch, Major," she said primly, prying Volgin's jaw open.
He cringed and glanced at Rakitin, who didn't seem the least bit bothered. Anxious, maybe, but not repulsed.
"When the patient is unconscious, we always intubate for breathing before intubating for the lavage pump," the Head Nurse explained, now inexplicably directing her comments at Rakitin, perhaps sensing a kindred spirit in unsavory tasks in the name of Science.
Svetlana eagerly held another wicked-looking length of rubber tubing by his lips.
"All right, Svetlana, like we practiced. If you hear gurgling, you know you're in the esophagus. We want the trachea, dear."
Svetlana beamed as she tiptoe-eye peered into Volgin's throat, threading the tube past his lips, concentrating prettily like she was brushing a doll's hair.
"That's it. No- now put some arm into it, dear! You'll never clear the esophagus without some force."
Svetlana obeyed, like a good soldier, furrowing her brow and shoving for all she was worth.
"I've only done this to seals before," she told them, beaming.
no subject
He turned back to the bed, crossing his arms.
"The Colonel's been poisoned. They think it's arsenic. Since no one knows where the good doctor has gone, the nurses have taken charge."
He shrugged.
"Better than I could do."
Ocelot frowned, watching the young Svetlana and the older chief of nurses ready an unpleasant looking device with a long tube.
His eyes narrowed.
"What end is that going in?" he demanded, uneasily.
"Hush," said the older nurse. "It's just a tube for gastric lavage."
"For what?"
"A stomach pump," she said, firmly. "It's been less than an hour-" here she looked at the elusive Lynx, who nodded affirmatively, meeting her gaze with troubled blue eyes, "-therefore, most of the poison can be retrieved before it even passes into his system."
Ocelot made a face that eloquently expressed his feelings on gastric lavage.
"You don't have to watch, Major," she said primly, prying Volgin's jaw open.
He cringed and glanced at Rakitin, who didn't seem the least bit bothered. Anxious, maybe, but not repulsed.
"When the patient is unconscious, we always intubate for breathing before intubating for the lavage pump," the Head Nurse explained, now inexplicably directing her comments at Rakitin, perhaps sensing a kindred spirit in unsavory tasks in the name of Science.
Svetlana eagerly held another wicked-looking length of rubber tubing by his lips.
"All right, Svetlana, like we practiced. If you hear gurgling, you know you're in the esophagus. We want the trachea, dear."
Svetlana beamed as she tiptoe-eye peered into Volgin's throat, threading the tube past his lips, concentrating prettily like she was brushing a doll's hair.
"That's it. No- now put some arm into it, dear! You'll never clear the esophagus without some force."
Svetlana obeyed, like a good soldier, furrowing her brow and shoving for all she was worth.
"I've only done this to seals before," she told them, beaming.