Iris Helsing loves her job. When she'd gone into medical practice, she had that gut feeling everybody wants. You're exactly where you belong.
Even better, she's got a huge list of clientele. Stressful, yes, but also more cash. She met her husband when he'd managed to break both his legs.
That doesn't stop the weird cases, of course. Pretty sure being a medical professional, no matter for what creatures, incudes a rite of passage for getting something out of somebody's ass. Or tonight, when a Shellian drags a roughed-up were into her practice. The were having a fork in his eye.
"I'm supposed to be getting ready for a date," Iris says as she pulls on her gloves.
"We were on a date," Mick, the Shellian, says, lugging the scowling were onto the exam table.
Iris sighs. "What did you do?"
"Nothin' they didn't deserve," Len sneers.
Iris looks at Mick. Mick rolls his eyes.
"Somebody saw my stitches," Mick says.
"Kinda hard not to," Iris replies.
"Yeah. And they―made some comments. Nothin' I haven't heard before."
Judging by Len's face, that's an understatement. For all his dramatics, Len never fully retaliates without a good reason. His partner's species getting a bad rep from Boris Karloff is definitely up there.
Iris sighs. "Alright, Ragetti. Hold still."
They'd obviously gone to a fancy place, judging by their smart blazers and the actual silver silverware. Despite the obvious irritation, Len's expression barely twitches when Iris yanks it out and checks for poisoning.
"You got lucky," she says after a few checks. "It's mild. I'll put a soother into an eye drop bottle. Take it over the next couple days. If you get any persistent swelling―"
"―irritation, redness, random wolf-outs," Len drawls, "I know the drill, doc."
Iris raises an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who spoiled a romantic evening, Leonard."
"They made groaning noises and stuck their arms out," Len snaps. "Called 'im Frankenstein."
Iris glares. "That's not even accurate." Shellian, named after Mary Shelley, who first brought the species to light, had rightfully depicted the original Creature as an eloquent being capable of critical thought and emotion. Frankenstein's Monster, dumb and scary, wasn't at all what Mick and his ilk deserved.
Frankenstein wasn't even a proper doctor, nor had he given his Creature his own name. Irritated Iris and the supernatural medical world.
Speaking of. Iris looks at Mick again. "You okay?"
"I missed dessert," Mick grumbles.
After a few years, Iris has learned to see the slight shift in Mick's weight. But overall, he seems fine.
Still. "You shouldn't have to deal with those idiots." She nods to Len. "While I don't condone getting stabbed in the eye, you did a good job. But that doesn't mean you should go around wolfing out or whatever it is you did."
"Oh, he wolfed out," Mick says, annoyed but, God help Len's ego, definitely pleased. "Guys ran off. It was the waitress who freaked out and stabbed 'im."
Iris grins. She's surprised Len's got a little smile too.
"Good aim, that one," Len says, "What was her name? Shawna?"
Mick glowers at him. "You're not lookin' for another pack member."
Len says nothing, which says everything. Iris shakes her head.
"Well, you need a bandage for that eye, unless you wanna frighten small children. Mick, you need any restitching?"
"Nah, I'm good."
"Good. Go to a diner or something, get each other flowers, whatever it is you do. I'm running very late."
"Yes, ma'am," Len says.
"No flowers," Mick adds.
Iris shoos them out, retrieving her cell phone as quick as she can.
"Barry, hey. I'm so sorry, I'm on my way right now. Len and Mick were on a date. Yeah, it went about as well as you think..."