“Yes, some heroes got hurt badly enough they wouldn’t recover, they knew they had no more income from their costume career, so suing, it was a way-” she stopped, closed her mouth deliberately, as if reminding herself to stay silent.
A way to stay afloat on the restitution money.
But what does talking to the patients have to do with that, anyway?
“You can’t tell me if my back’s broken or not?”
She shook her head, “No.”
That’s… kind of dumb, honestly.
“I won’t tell. I won’t sue.”
“Saying that isn’t legally binding,” she frowned, again, “and It- it’s not that. I’m just a nursing student. I haven’t even graduated.
Nice, we’ve got her talking about herself now.
They recruited us to help meet demand, to do the paperwork and check that patients weren’t coding, so the people with experience could focus on handling the patient load.
Coding? As in trying to communicate with each other via code? Or as in “code red” and such, maybe?
I don’t have the training to diagnose you on any level, let alone your back.”
That’s fair.
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