[Kieran~]

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The right side of his face didn't seem to be tight anymore. The scars had healed under the miraculous care of the Medic, his skin knitting together neatly under the salves and bandages that had been generously applied. The clinic had been quiet, thankfully, barely anyone trickling in in the weeks that Kieran had been an inpatient. His food was delivered on time daily, keeping his belly full and warm, as well as his pain relief. The bandages had come off his eye yesterday, allowing the man to see with both eyes as he lumbered about the gardens.

He wandered further at times, but always returned promptly. He was... not afraid, but wary. He was wary of the Monarchs, caging himself to the confines of Setebos' garden; as if they couldn't come in to get at him if they so wished. Brushing past the hedges, the man made his way back into the clearing, charcoal ears perking up at the sound of rushed voices. One being... an unknown, and the other belonging to a certain Medic.

Rumbling, the Omega made his way forward, chunky paws eating up the distance swiftly as he approached the arguing duo. Something about medication? The Medic was withholding pain relief for a patient who didn't require it. If that was correctly assumed from all the shouting and screeching. A huff escaped his maw as he came closer, colbalt eyes narrowing at the two men that were practically nose to nose as the argument escalated further.

The Omega came up on Setebos' side, loud footfalls hopefully enough not to startle him. A growl thundered in his chest at the other man, his hip nudging into Setebos' slightly as he loomed over the white wolf. He had no time to think about his actions, or even that this wolf could, and probably was, a higher rank than Kieran could hope to be in the coming weeks. But he was big, and could be intimidating without really knowing so. For a moment he forgot his position, a deep desire to put an end to this before it escalated any further.

“Leave.” He'd demand, ears pushed forward as he pulled his head down to invade the white wolf's space, almost forcing the other man back with his bulk. A huff left his lips as the other man backed up and left, Kieran's stance remaining unmoving before blinking owlishly at what he'd done. Taking a step or two back from the smaller Medic, Kieran lowered his head in a bow, remembering his place. Ah shit.

“Setebos... sorry. Shit. Don't tell Haylyn.”

[Setebos]

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.