Sinric the Wanderer

"Among the things people should never attempt," Ragnar says, "is fencing in Sin, and fucking a vacuum cleaner."

He states that as a fact.

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The last gets a faintly horrified look from Athelstan at the concept.

"I don't think it was people fencing him in this time", he says softly. "It was Mother Nature."

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What it gets from Sin is a sweet little giggle. "I believe that's called Hoovering and came fairly high on the list of horror stories told by an A&E nurse I use to hang around with."

He nods to Athelstan. "Yes, Mother Nature had the controlling hand, at least in this occasion. Next time I'ok be staying somewhere less landlocked for winter. Never again, that much I learnt at least."

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"Must have been pretty remote if it couldn't be reached at all in winter," Ragnar says, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. But yes, I heard the same stories. May have flirted with a nurse at well, at some stage."

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"And there wouldn't have been anything anyone could do to rescue you." Athelstan squeezes Sin's hand, then turns to smile at Ragnar. "Is there a profession you haven't flirted with?"

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"I was rescued. Just not in a physical sense." Sin answers, leaning in to kiss Athelstan's cheek in thanks.

"Nurses are very important people to flirt with. You never know when you're going to need one on side."

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"And they've got so interestingly gory stories to tell!" Ragnar adds.

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"I bet they do. And stories that would embarrass their patients to death if they put names on them."

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"Oh yes!" Sin grins. "Hospital people are either heavy drinkers, great customers for recreational drugs or completely stark raving mad."

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"And most of the time, utterly cynical, using a blood-curdling jargon," Ragnar adds. "Especially if they work in the ER."

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"Working there would make about anybody cynical, however they started out."

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"They also party hard." Sin sighs, "So they make very good customers for good clean relaxation with low side effects."

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"Because once their next shift starts, they'll have to be one hundred percent present again," Ragnar says. "Not that they always are -- some function on autopilot in ways you wouldn't believe."

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"Well, I guess if they can get away with it without killing anybody..."

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"Most of them work harder than anyone alive. Autopilot and the occasional pharmaceutical steam valve are ways of coping safely."

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"You've got to have a special mind-set for it," Ragnar says. "Which includes what they call coping mechanisms. Banging scruffy bikers helps, too. Or really, any kind of wild sex. Natural drugs, you see."

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"How do the ones cope who don't go in for that?" he asks curiously.

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"Intense repression or very fast burn out." Sin muses, stoking Athelstan's back.

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"I'd have said burn-out, too," Ragnar says, moving his hand over Sinric's back, then Athelstan's side. "It's a good thing you have to study very long to be a nurse or a doctor, too. People who can't deal drop out in time."

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The touches are just comfortable, at this point, so much he doesn't think about where they could be leading.

"Yeah, I guess. And everybody does time in the ER before they qualify."

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"I'm very glad it was a path I didn't take." Sin sighs, pressing a lazy kiss on Athelstan's shoulder, draping his arm over Athelstan's hip to stroke the curve of Ragnar's thigh, equally lazily. He's content just talking and touching, being well behind sated for one night.

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"Did you consider it?" Ragnar asks.

He cranes his head to kiss each of them, just light affectionate touches to their lips.

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"It would have meant staying in one place for a very long time..."

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