In Dire Straits

Unhappy patients were an occupational hazard that the seasoned doctor was fortunately accustomed to dealing with in his life, and the change in locale did little to change what he had come to accept as a universal constant specific to his profession. Bedridden Inarians harangued on little catastrophes to distract themselves from their various ailments. As the maddening effect of their confinement pressed deeper, the erosion had a way of reducing personally reasonable wolves to whining, temperamental brats that would piss and moan over any serviceable molehill. Emergencies in a peaceful kingdom such as Inaria were rare, so Setebos was not often deluged with patients with more troubling conditions than a dislocated limb or a virus, but the grove that was used to house long-term patients was not always vacant.

Like a true, hardened professional, Setebos took the chip on his shoulder and used it as his armor. Most doctors learned to abide by the abuse lobbed by their charges; when brushing them off failed to work, Setebos met blow for blow. It was what made him so impossible to deal with. When the dazed, pissed off, stressed-out patient started antagonizing him for pain medication he didn't need, hurling insults and demands, he promptly discovered that Inaria's Medic was not someone who simply stood and passively endured insults.

Needless to say, the collision was so powerful that it almost leveled the grove and everything in it. Usually, a few choice words were enough to send a misbehaving patient scuttling back to their den, but this one was almost as tenacious as Setebos himself. Instead of buckling with his tail between his legs, the patient retaliated with a few choice words of his own, and then that back and forth continued into eternity. Both had energy that would last them for decades.

Two unstoppable forces careening through space had to meet their immovable object eventually. What Kieran lacked in assertiveness he made up for with the sheer intimidating size of his bulky frame. Cowed into silence, the once-obstinate patient withdrew and silently disengaged from the confrontation, leaving the shattered remnants of his pride at Setebos's feet. Setebos watched the other man leave, making sure that he filed back to his designated space rather than casting himself into the unknown to lick his wounds, before turning back to his savior. From a formerly disgruntled patient to an unofficial assistant of sorts, Kieran's transformation was tremendous indeed. They made an odd pair, and Kieran's muscle was an invaluable enough asset that Setebos did not always refuse his charity on principle.

However, Kieran didn't show any of the satisfaction that Setebos may have felt on his behalf. He looked chastized -- the expression on his face reminded him of how Sycorax would look when he knew their father was going to catch onto some new shit that he created. (But Sycorax always looked more... scared.) "Don't tell Haylyn," Kieran pleaded with him, the weight of his ex-mate's name looming like a vengeful schoolmarm.

"Seeing as she isn't Queen anymore, tellin' her wouldn't do anything anyway," Setebos reminded him. After a moment, he added, perhaps revealing a hint of gratitude for Kieran's intervention, "But even if she was, I wouldn't tell her 'cause it's none of her business. And you did me a favor."

It seemed that this secret would remain between them.