[@TheMinorFall]

When he said that he was close to dying, Amuné’s expression turned distraught.  “No!  You won’t -- you won’t, Dr. Max will help you and everything will be fine.  Okay?  Okay?!”  She grabbed his hand when Cain reached to touch her cheek, her own fingers shaking.  The doctor arrived just in time to keep him from hitting the floor as he passed out.

~~~

Outside the hastily converted broom closet was the same hallway he’d been taken to a few days before, this time from a different angle.  Voices spoke softly in a nearby room, a murmur just loud enough to hear but not clear enough to understand.  Then the sound stopped, and a door opened to reveal a dark-haired woman in a simple dress.  She saw Cain standing in the hallway and a bright smile lit up her face.  “Darling, he’s up,” she said to whoever was in the room she’d just left.  “Huh?  No, I mean up-up.  Mhm, I figured.  I’ll tell him.”  With a soft laugh, she approached the former assassin.  “Doctor Thomas will be out in just a moment, but we need you not to move around too much.  An exam room will do for now.”  Light green eyes danced with amusement.  “He said if you don’t sit back down right this minute he’ll have me sit on you to make you stay put.”  She placed a hand lightly on Cain’s shoulder and guided him to one of several small rooms, the kind every clinic had.  “Just go ahead and sit on the table.  I’m Malie, by the way.  I help the doctor with...well, with whatever he needs, really.”  Another wide smile.  “And I’m glad to see you conscious -- you really did mess yourself up quite badly, you know.  I won’t be the only one, either.”  For a brief moment, Malie’s expression turned crafty, but her words were sincere.  “At any rate, it’s about time to change your dressing too, so Max is likely going to want to take care of that as well while you’re in here.  Tell me, how are you feeling?  On a scale of one to ten, what would you rate the pain in your chest?”

The doctor’s assistant went through a set of fairly standard questions, jotting notes on a sheet pinned to a board, and after a few minutes, the doctor joined them.  “That was excellent thinking, that metal tube, though very roughly done,” he said without preamble.  “But you were still very lucky.  Much longer and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything for you.  You’ve been out for just over three days, and you’re healing well -- faster than I would expect from the average shifter, but I have no medical history for you, so I couldn’t say if that’s normal in your case.  However you are still injured, and it is my professional opinion that you should /not/ be up and about.  Honestly, I would think someone in your state would have had the sense to stay in bed when he woke up.”  Maxwell fixed his patient with a very pointed stare.  Unruly children who hated being cooped up withered under it, but the man before him was hardly a child.