- Character Biography
- Click Here
Arthur moved at a determined -- but comparatively leisurely -- pace towards the infirmary. As he ducked under the bulkhead into his workspace, he marveled. For the first time, he was treating a casualty with a skilled assistant. There were no other beasts to triage or treat, no chaotic battle underway, no one to yell at. Things were going... ...well. Too well, perhaps. But Arthur wouldn't question the small mercies. He'd appreciate them while they lasted. Amnesty was handling the transport of the wounded mouse up on deck, which left him ample time to prepare.
Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast...
Once in the infirmary, he briskly shut the windows and hatches, and turned to open the vents to flood the infirmary with warm air. "A fine job as usual, Mr. Fairpaws..." remarked Arthur to himself, holding a paw to the vents. The towels and bandages were only an arm length away, and the marten quickly staged them before donning his apron.
His little workspace was taking shape quite nicely. All that was left was to fetch his tools from his chest. The marten stored all his surgical implements in a simple roll of pouches, and with a brisk flick, they rolled out perfectly along the cot. At a glance, every pouch was filled, and every instrument clean and ready.
And with that, he sat there, waiting.
GATES, but felt strange being so prepared! Normally everything was chaos, and... ...and things were going so smoothly. The marten wished there was someone else who could have... ...witnessed things, and perhaps appreciated them. But alas, he would have to enjoy the beautiful moment alone.
Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast...
Once in the infirmary, he briskly shut the windows and hatches, and turned to open the vents to flood the infirmary with warm air. "A fine job as usual, Mr. Fairpaws..." remarked Arthur to himself, holding a paw to the vents. The towels and bandages were only an arm length away, and the marten quickly staged them before donning his apron.
His little workspace was taking shape quite nicely. All that was left was to fetch his tools from his chest. The marten stored all his surgical implements in a simple roll of pouches, and with a brisk flick, they rolled out perfectly along the cot. At a glance, every pouch was filled, and every instrument clean and ready.
And with that, he sat there, waiting.
GATES, but felt strange being so prepared! Normally everything was chaos, and... ...and things were going so smoothly. The marten wished there was someone else who could have... ...witnessed things, and perhaps appreciated them. But alas, he would have to enjoy the beautiful moment alone.
