vicodincrutch | Dial Tone

Peeta stares at the doctor for a minute, and he's not sure what to say. Not becaues House has a cane but because he's both not used to doctors and because he's never heard a doctor be so brusque.

Not that Peeta knows many doctors in the first place.

"I'm Peeta Mellark. I need advice about my leg." Peeta pauses for long enough for it to be considered stopping. He's never discussed his prosthetic with anyone, not even with Katniss. She knows it's there, of course, but they don't talk about it - it makes Katniss feel guilty.

"What about it."

House leans forward and threads his fingers together around the curve of his cane. First glance diagnosis: young, Aryan, peculiar last name possibly Eastern European. Nothing to work with. Nothing interesting yet. Is he rusty? Or is he gazing to hard into the abyss with it staring back?

A glance downward to the floor has him looking at the kid's shoes.

Peeta takes a breath and kicks off his shoe, then rolls up his loose baker's pant leg to the knee. The metal of his prosthetic is dull in places and shiny in others.

"I don't...." he pauses. The fact that he doesn't have one is obvious, at this point, so he's trying to find out a way to finish that sentence without making it sound more stupid than it feels in his head. "I don't really know how to take care of it. The doctors, they didn't explain anything, and I...I'd like to go swimming. In the ocean."

There. That should explain it, right?

Speaking of staring into the abyss. He sticks out his cane to poke at it. It looks as though whoever made it had a sense of physiognomy. What metal is that? Oh, wait. It's a good reason to get up, so he heaves himself across the room and grabs a cute hygiene magnet and places it close to the kneecap. Will it stick?

"There's no swimming, not with that." Is that even ergonomically wise to use metal? House looks down to see his shoes, examining where the soul is worn. "You should get something lighter by far. For one thing."

Back to the chair he goes, and he wheels it closer. "Can you at least take it off?"

Peeta looks down at it, and finishes rolling up the pant leg to the top of the prosthetic, where it meets his thigh. There's a bed, where the leg meets the flesh, and he nods. "It can come off, but I've never really messed with it very much."

The truth is that it makes him a little sick to look at it, let alone mess with it. "It's pretty low-maintenance, I guess."

He reaches down and detaches the leg, carefully, the sudden unfamiliar lack of weight on his leg surprising and uncomfortable.

House let's his cane drop across his lap to grab this hunk of metal with both hands. He's not an expert of prosthetic parts by any means, but he can recognize that someone knew the knee bends, and the same goes for the ankle. Metal. Really.

"How long have you had it?" Because without it, he looks like it was yesterday. How defeatist. House sets his jaw, trying to be helpful in his way. "Two days? Three? It's going to be a part of your life. Treat it like it is. I can tell you how to wash it, store it and where to find repair but I need you to not act like it's a zit that won't go away."

Peeta frowns, slightly irritated at the suggestion. "I've had it for ten months. I know exactly what it is. But no one ever bothered to explain things about it to me. They don't exactly care about if it sticks or if I'm happy with it."

Peeta tries not to think about the Capitol.

He's jerking your chain, kiddo. Then again, when they don't know a person gets the best reaction. "Why? Were you unconscious? Did you not ask questions?"

The leg comes to rest between both of houses, making him feel something like a seated tripod.

"Yes," Peeta replies honestly. "I didn't have a choice in the matter. I took an injury out in the wilderness, and when they found me, it was gangrenous. I was barely awake when they found me." It's not exactly the truth, but then the truth involves explaining the games and this is far more believable.

"And they did it at the scene? They didn't airlift you?" Sorry, Peeta. It's not going to go down like that. Not so easily.

Airlift - that must be like a hovercraft. Peeta's lips purse a little, his mouth flattening. "I was airlifted, and then they operated."

He stares at the leg for a long time, and shakes his head as if to clear it. "They said it was the only way to save my life. That it was beyond fixing. But that was after I woke up, so I don't know..." He doesn't know if that's true. Capitol medicine is amazing, and their doctors can do things like transform people into whatever they want, so it always made Peeta bristle at the idea that they couldn't do more. He doesn't say anything to Katniss.

Katniss feels guilty enough.

"Generally removing rotting limbs is a good coarse of action, in case if you were doubting." There are doubters. And in some circumstances when the necrotic muscles are eroding amputation is not necessary. Oh, perfect. Look at the personal history lurking here. Keep yourself together House, it's a just a one legged boy.

"And you woke up after. Then what? Physical therapy?"

"I don't doubt it," Peeta says carefully. He just wishes he knew for sure.

"After I woke up they gave me a cane and did some work with me, but I was sent back home to my district after a week. I don't use the cane anymore, because I'm more sure of myself now." He doesn't mention that after he woke up he had to gain back almost 30 pounds of muscle, but then Peeta doesn't look like he almost starved to death once upon a time anymore.

Yes, the cane was in the equation. Houses' own sits to one side. "Any chafing? Any phantom itch? Do you take it off when you sleep?" All of these are important even though it's one after the other. It's the boy and his leg, both of them co-existing. While he's coming closer to the threshold of being strictly clinical in words, he's looking into an eerie fun house mirror.

Peeta answers quietly, as if the words will actually matter more that way. "Sometimes it hurts. I don't know how to describe it. It just hurts, and I know that the pain is below my thigh, but I can't fix it. It's not chafing, because I'd notice, but it just...hurts."

Peeta rubs the stump a little self-consciously. "I don't take it off to sleep. It doesn't bother me, or my fiancee to sleep with, so I just leave it." He's not sure why it doesn't bother him - some fantastically amazing modern Capitol advancement, maybe

"The brain receives and sends signals to the body constantly. Nerve endings register the experience and the brain sends how to respond. If something is hot we move our hand away. When a limb is removed, the nerve ending is obviously gone. The brain on a functioning level doesn't know that and sends a pain or itch. That's weird but natural. It will go away with time." He rubs the bridge of his nose. That much is textbook. Hooray.

"They say massaging what you've got left and putting it under warm water helps. It could be over use of your knew kicker that's agitating the phantom itch. Visibly you can see and recognize that you're missing a leg, your brain is still slow on the uptake." Somewhere there's a pamphlet. He read it once before. Boring, useful information none the less. In fact, this would clear up so, so much. All the cleaning details and parts about sunshine are worth giving him, but to talk about all of it?

"As for the swimming, I'm sure there is something extra you can use that's lying around."

Peeta listens - at least this is normal. He reaches his hand for his leg. "So I can swim, just not with this leg, is what you're saying." He wonders if he can swim missing a leg entirely. He'll have to ask Finnick, surely the District 4 citizen will know.

"I appreciate you talking to me about it," he adds after a moment.

"You could swim without it. Probably in circles. But yep. That's it." House hands over the metal leg, again with both hands. If he bench presses that leg, he'd be ripped in no time.

"It's my job to talk to you about it. Anything for you and the little woman." He is about to say something about the likelihood of young marriages ending in divorce but looks can be deceiving. He could be an 8,000 year old demon, vampire, goblin or over grown leprechaun.

Peeta frowns again. "I don't know if I would call Katniss that, but thanks." He moves to put the leg back on and lets his pant leg drop, standing up and making sure everything was on properly. "Or if she's appreciate the sentiment, but yes. Thank you anyway."

"Not a girl, not yet a woman. Got it." Only not. Maybe she's the one who's a mutant of some kind. House digs for a pen in a drawer and for a pad of paper. Ha, well supplied rooms are a treat. He scribbles on the pad.

"Head to this room and they'll figure out the swim leg situation. And give you some literature that could be of use."

Are we done yet? Please, please don't ask about strange feelings and sensations.

Peeta raises both eyebrows and thanks the doctor, taking the note. He's remarkably uncurious about this man with the cane, but only because his own leg injury has made him more aware of the feelings behind having a fake leg. He doesn't want to ask and make this meeting more awkward than it has to be.

Dial Tone

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Ahem. You saw no fail. (I really need more variety in my keywords)

i saw nothing <333

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