The Morbid Medjack.

Clint had seen enough bloody fingers to last him a lifetime. He'd stitched enough thumbs and bandaged enough wrists that they had started to make an appearance in his dreams too. That irritated him. It was bad enough that he had to spend his days looking at them, taking over his nights was a step too far in his opinion. The Slicers were his most frequent visitors for that. If they weren't cutting themselves in some bizarre accident, then they were being bitten or scratched by the animals they looked after. The Builders and Bricknicks were a close second though. Apparently no one was capable of being careful.

The heat was another problem. Often going hand in hand with dehydration, it was actually his number one pet peeve. Because no matter how many times he had griped to the others about how important it was to stay hydrated and to keep cool, some slinthead always came down with heatstroke. One of the hazards of living in a place that was eternally sunny really but that was grating on his nerves too.

Of course, it wasn't always like that - and admittedly, if everyone was more careful and actually took his advice he would be incredibly bored. It wasn't really that bad, Clint just enjoyed a good whine every now and then just like everyone else. Most of the time there was plenty to keep him occupied and that was the way he liked it.

There were days however, where he was barely needed. Those kind of days had mixed reviews - mostly because on one hand, he could relax - which was obviously a luxury that not many Gladers could afford. On the other hand, he didn't really like relaxing. Taking it easy sure, but sitting around doing absolutely nothing wasn't something that appealed to him. And there was only so many times that he and Jeff could completely reorganise the entire hut.

But through all his griping, Clint really wasn't one to be grumpy, or pessimistic. He was much more of an optimist though he often liked to play devil's advocate too. He was usually found smiling, or making a joke of some kind - which, considering his job was rather helpful. Everyone could do with something a little more lighthearted in the Glade.

Instead of complaining, he would make the most of his spare time and think of all the different ways in which he might be helpful. Ways in which he might be needed as a med-jack - all the what if's and could be's. Because, surely if it's possible to be trapped inside a gigantic concrete maze, then anything could be. He would strategise even the most impossible of scenarios because why not? What if his expert planning and forward thinking could save someone's life one day? That was his job after all. It was rather noble of him actually.

But then, if he was honest, Clint would imagine these scenarios and wonder these things also because he was growing tired of the mundane injuries he had to tend to and morbidly yearned for something a little more exciting. It wasn't that he wanted something bad to happen though, he just felt he wasn't quite using his full potential. It wasn't a concept a lot of people seemed to understand though, so he kept that more to himself. And Jeff too, obviously.

Jeff, who wasn't quite so imaginative and more of a practical sort, was always an audience for his strategies, rantings and theories. It was actually one of his favourite things about Clint which was just as well, seeing as they were best friends and worked together every day.

It was on one of those quieter days that Clint flopped down onto one of the empty beds with a sigh.

"Hey Jeff?"

Jeff, who was re-rolling the longest bandage they had - only because it was slightly crooked, turned his head idly, finding his friend staring at the ceiling. "Hm?"

"If you were going to amputate someone's arm off, how would you do it?"

The other boy snorted, shaking his head lightly, unable to keep the smile from his face even if he wanted to. "You're whacked."

"No, just - how would you do it?" Clint smirked, coaxing Jeff into humoring him, not that he had to try very hard.

"No clue. Sounds like you've given it a lot of thought though so go on. Enlighten me." Jeff, by this time, had abandoned the fabric in favour of listening intently to whatever half-baked idea his friend had come up with.

"Well -"

He was interrupted by the door swinging open with a resounding bang, diverting his attention. Clint huffed when he saw Gally stalk through the door.

"Clint, stitch this up would you?"

With a roll of his eyes, Clint hauled himself up from the bed, eyes flicking to the hand wrapped in a blood soaked cloth. "What is it this time?"

"Caught it on the saw."

Nodding to himself more than anything, he glanced over to Jeff who began rummaging through the drawers for the things they would need.

"Lets have a look."

It had looked worse than it actually was because of the blood. It didn't take long for the two med-jacks to fix up his hand - it hadn't even needed stitches, just a good clean and wrapping up.

Examining the bandage, Gally hummed, satisfied with their handiwork. "Thanks."

Clint got to his feet, stretching out a little before he nodded, frowning down at the offending hand. This was the fourth time this month Gally had been in his hut for the same thing - and that was only for the more serious injuries. He knew most of the time, Gally just shrugged it off and carried on.

He was going to let it drop, knowing it was useless to go on about it, but as he made his way into the back room, Clint turned back to Gally, the curve of his lip betraying his intentions. "Y'know, if I cut it off, you wouldn't have to worry about it getting hurt no more."

"What?" Gally spluttered, brows knitting together in concern, but Clint was already gone. He looked to Jeff who, upon seeing the other boy's distress, let out a snort of laughter, not bothering to make any excuses for the other med-jack

With a halfhearted shrug, mainly for Gally's benefit Jeff supplied, "He's decided he wants to amputate something."

Gally nodded only once and said nothing, deciding that the less he knew about it the better. Perturbed, he made his way back to work, catching the sound of laughter from the little hut as the door swung shut behind him.