Day 2 - Recovering

[Corporal Light]

Thirty minutes later

"Listen, for the fiftieth time already, you AREN'T going anywhere until your wounds have healed!"

"You do fucking realize wounds like this take DAYS to heal, right? Guess what, bozo, I DON'T HAVE DAYS!"

Ballad let out an exasperated sigh, bringing his gloved hands up to his face, covering what was still visible completely. He had been arguing incessantly with the male doctor for well over thirty minutes, trying to get the doctor to allow him to leave. However, no matter what excuse he used or whatever argument he brought up, the doctor stubbornly refused each time. Gripping the very top of his green trapper hat, his fingers digging into the leather that encompassed the hat, he yells into his hand, the sound partially muffled by both the palms of his hands and the red-scarf that surrounded his mouth.

The male doctor, meanwhile, was standing a short foot away from the table that Ballad was sitting on. He had got himself to sit down on the table a few short minutes ago, and it thankfully didn't look like it hurt him. It was the constant arguing that was, in some regards, painful. To both the ears and his patience. He was no psychological doctor, so he didn't have the full knowledge of these things, but if he had to guess, he would go so far as to say 'Executioner Ballad' was a pure fucking loony. The fractious way he stared at people who so much as looked at him wrong (which was what had been going on for the past half-hour) was only the tip of the iceberg. He didn't even need to go into detail on the way he presented himself: sometimes trying to get up into his face as they talked, and the way his cheek-lines started to perk up whenever he talked about himself, as if suppressing a smile. Not counting the downright accusatory tone of voice he used whenever he was questioned, and he kept a cocksure aura around him no matter what. However, it wasn't that that frightened the poor doctor. In contrast, it was the feeling that the green man could confirm his feelings that he was practically insane. The way he talked to him whenever he questioned him sent chills down his spine far more than piercing, almost murderous glare that he gave him... or was currently giving him.

"Hey fuckface, are you deaf? Your bitch wants to speak to you," said Ballad in a fatigued tone of voice, hand-waving his right hand towards the door to the infirmary as he removes eye contact from the doctor. As the male doctor looks towards the door, his eyes occasionally darting back to Ballad, he sees his assistant standing in the middle of the twin doors, holding them open for him. Wasting no time at all, he rushes towards the doors, closing them behind him before turning around, keeping his weight against the door as he looks to his partner.
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"He's not even fully healed yet!"

"I know that sir, but he must see the letter! I was even told it had to be delivered to him 'effective immediately.' It can only mean one thing..."

"Don't even tell me.." replied the male doctor, rubbing his left hand against his sweating forehead. It had gotten unusually hotter since he had closed the door. Probably the steam seeping through the infirmary. He didn't have a damn clue how that stuff formed in there all the time, only that it thankfully didn't effect his patients at all. Would've sucked if they did, because then he would have to go through a lot more work relocating the infirmary to a more acceptable location somewhere else in the Colosseum, which would easily take up a little more than a few weeks. The Colosseum was huge, but not that huge.

"Uh, sir? You okay?"

Doing a double-take, the male doctor looks back towards his assistant. He seriously needed to stop doing that whenever she was around.

"Oh, umm.. yes, I'm fine. So let me get this straight. Someone from Minas Tiritih sent a letter to this.. Executioner Ballad that he has to read immediately?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, write back and say that Ballad simply isn't available at the time. He is recovering from his wounds and-"

His sentence was cut off completely with the sound of a loud bang against the twin doors.
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Ballad lets out another pained grunt as he moves his left fist forward, smashing it against the wooden doors, creating another loud smack against the door that the two doctors could easily hear. The infirmary had gotten much more humid since their argument, and he didn't know if it was because of his clothing, or because his actions were literally affecting the weather. If the latter was true, then good. Another reason to prove he was simply amazing in every imaginable way.

"I'm not a dumbass! I know you two are talking about something behind there! You planning to euthanize me? You so much as cross these doors with any kind of drug like that, and I'll rip your fucking guts out of your stomachs!" roared Ballad, briefly moving his left hand towards the handles for the doors, twisting them in vain before slamming against the door some more. The force increased each time he slammed against the door, gritting his teeth with each one. At this point, he hardly cared if he was hurting himself. He wanted to get the fuck out of this musty room with no one but him and the two idiotic doctors to remind him he wasn't in a literal asylum. He wasn't crazy. Not by a long shot. He simply couldn't be. And if the doctors think he is, then fuck them.

Just when he was about to slam into the door again, it opened up, revealing the doctors once again. It took a considerable amount of self-control on Ballad's part to keep him from just barreling into the doctors and proceed to start savagely beating them. His senses sort of returning, he glowers at the two, his fingernails underneath his gloves nearly digging into his own skin as he growls "About fucking time. What were you two talking about behind my back?"

The doctors looked at each other, unsure of which path to take. Do they hand him the note and expect him to walk all the way there in his current state? Or do they pretend that is just important medical stuff and risk invoking his wrath? It wasn't that hard of a decision, when one thought about it for a few seconds. It was stunning how shouting and threatening to break random objects can convince lesser minds of their own lack of importance when compared to a greater man.

Gulping hopefully, the male doctor cautiously steps forward, nearly tripping on the first step as his partner grabs onto his left arm. The warmth of her touch reassured him, finding himself face to face with Ballad.

Forcing himself to make eye contact, he lifted his right hand upwards, containing a single piece of parchment. Ballad adjusts his eyes to stare at it, remaining silent for a few moments before swiping the note out of his hand. Unfolding it, (which takes a little while, seeing as his right hand still hurt to move,) he slowly scans the words on the paper, not saying a word. Meanwhile, the male doctor was still staring at him, his heart thumping beneath his chest. As Ballad looked up to him, he hissed, closing his eyes and bracing himself for whatever was to come.

Nothing came. He felt nothing. Slowly parting one eye, he finds that Ballad had simply left. Without a word. And he wasn't dead, which was even better.

"He, umm.. left, sir. You know, down the corridor," said his assistant, pointing to her left down the hallway.

Sighing in relief, the male doctor replies "Good... let's just.. prepare for the next wounded. I hope we never, ever, ever, get a man like him here again, my sweet."