keep treating the curse, imagine the worst // medical class

[michael t.]

To be honest, Michael had never really had much interest in medicine. It wasn't because he didn't believe it to be useful. No, he knew how useful medicine could be, from his several nights spent very amateurishly patching himself and Trevor up after a night gone wrong. Rather, medicine just wasn't something that he found himself often getting very enchanted with. His passion was thievery, and planning. He wasn't the type to spend his days reading medical books, or going out to pick flowers that could one day save lives. Despite this, the bobcat wasn't about to turn down free training. He and Trevor hadn't exactly done any big jobs since arriving in the Typhoon – not wanting to attract the ire of their fellow crewmates – but if they did decide to go and do something, he wanted to be able to make sure they could make it back home.

So, Michael found himself wandering over to where Raiden had set up his little classroom, pair of blue eyes scanning over all the different props present as he hid them behind his usual pair of aviators. He couldn't see half of the diagrams and all that nonsense thanks to his one blind eye, but he'd be fine. He was a fast learner, and he was sure Raiden would explain with his own words... hopefully. Sighing, Michael mumbled as he sat down, swiping one of the notebooks to look it over, "I guess I'll participate in this. Never been much of a medic myself, but... well, I guess I've gotten into the habit of gettin' myself injured. Might as well know how to patch myself up." He shrugged his shoulders a bit, his eyes darkening as he remember the state he had arrived to the Typhoon in. He really had let himself get beaten to hell then, hadn't he?

[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]