She stood idly in the empty room.
Greyson was leaning against a white cabinet. A black compression shirt hugged his frame with grey cargo pants hanging from his hips.
The man was fidgeting with a device that looked like a temperature gun. He was typing into the device's screen; his brows knitted down with concentration as he nibbled his bottom lip irritably.
She patted her hands on the hospital gown, her nose scrunched with distaste.
"Can we get this over with?" She groaned impatiently, "Let me sit under that stupid machine like a mummy already."
Standing up, the buzz-cut man slowly walked toward her while eyeing the device.
"Hold on..." He muttered.
Calamity folded her arms, "I've been holding on." She remarked.
Suddenly- the metal collar around her clicked.
Looking toward him- she noticed the device was pointed at the collar as it beeped. Lowering it, Greyson pulled the collar off her neck.
It felt like her skin could breathe.
Slowly placing her hands on her neck, Calamity's skin felt raw, moist, and sensitive. Although temporary, indents from the collar were imbedded into the surface of her skin. Her neck felt free of restraint- like she could finally breathe properly.
It felt so freeing.
She felt like a person- not an animal.
Unbeknownst to her, Greyson eyed her reaction with uncertainty. Emotions were swirling inside him- unsure of how to feel about a woman, regarded as dangerous, showing joy and comfort about being unrestrained for the first time in decades.
"Uhm-" She regained her composure, "Why're we... taking this off?"
Blinking, he took a moment to eye the collar in his hands before clearing his throat, "Any metal in an MRI machine will burn you alive."
She'd nod, "Fun."
Before she knew it, Calamity was subjected to an MRI machine.
Unfortunately for her, the mohawked woman had to take a long trip back to the hospital to be subjected to patient-like treatment. She was scrubbed clean, forced to shower, and stuck in a hospital gown like a confused toddler wanting to go comando.
Laying inside it- she felt the undeniable urge to twitch, readjust, and move, but the explicit instructions were to not move an inch.
Despite this, it was hard to not complain.
"Am I done yet?" She droned on annoyingly, "I don't want to know if my brain is a balloon!"
The she-wolf was irritable and bored. It felt like she was in an alien experiment.
There was a soft click before a voice, smooth like honey and gentle like a bee, made her heart skip a beat, "If the neurologist and I notice inflammatory symtoms- we can give medication to quell it."
His voice made her relax. It was impossible to not feel soothed by his thick Canadian accent- especially when she knew the face that beautiful voice belonged to.
With her relaxed body- Calamity was slowly pulled out of the MRI machine.
It slowly pushed forward on the automatic MRI bed, the dark room making her flutter her eyelashes from the stark contrast of the bright interior of the machine. It was like night and day.
Sitting up once the machine stopped, she was met with Greyson standing nearby.
Sporting a Seattle Seahawks baseball hat- he idly scrolled through his phone. His muscular arm held a bathing suit against his right peck.
"What's with the hat?" She remarked, "It looks stupid."
Greyson rolled his eyes at her audacity, "I went outside and it was raining."
"Boohoo." She poked.
Narrowing his eyes, the buzz-cut man scoffed, "Not so princess-y of you."
Just as she was about to question him- the lulling scent of Lóthurr wafted through her nose. She whipped her head to the left, eager to catch a glimpse of him.
Clad in a long white coat, tight grey button-up, and white dress-pants was the man she dreamt of.
They stretched over his tight muscles- the fabric bunching up whenever he'd lift his strong bicep to tuck strands of hair over his ear. Lóthurr's platinum hair was tied in a loose man-bun.
Her brows raised in realization of what Greyson meant.
Was he fucking with her?
She shot the man a glare, who only responded with a brief snicker before looking back at his phone.
Lóthurr gestured to the male, "Is it alright he hears your results?" He'd ask, "HIPPA and all."
Calamity shrugged, "He'll be hearing about it anyway."
She hated to admit it- but Greyson was becoming a fantastic form of comfort and social connection the past few days. They had started to poke and prod at eachother- throwing remarks often perceived as rude but taken as jokes.
As if he were... a friend.
Nodding subtly, he interlaced his fingers and leaned on his right foot.
Those thighs were bigger then her head... She'd love to get crushed between those.
Though, Calamity distinctly noticed the he-bear had the distinct inability to make eye contact with her. His moon-like eyes darted across the room- desperate to avoid hers.
Her heart stung and throbbed with the reminder of their rocky acquaintanceship.
"Your brain stem is visibly inflamed," He'd begin, "But, it seems to be quelling on its own. That's a good sign."
Calamity nibbled on her bottom lip, "What else?"
Lóthurr pursed his lips and looked toward the wall- flexing his fingers as he'd clear his throat, "Well... there seems to be an inflammation in a spot between your frontal and temporary lobe." He'd explain, "Which may be causing your symptoms of bad decision making, memory, and emotional control."
She clenched her fists- feeling ridiculed and ill. Did he just call her emotional?
Desperate to ask more questions, Calamity opens her lips to speak, but her voice dies in her throat as she watches Lóthurr scurry away.
"Hey!" She'd wobble onto her feet, "What the hell? I have questions!"
The door clicks shut as the doctor leaves them be.
Digging her fingers into her scalp- she grinds her teeth as her eyes begin to water. The she-wolf felt like vomiting at the idea her brain was swelling... is that why she's been getting headaches?
Greyson cleared his throat awkwardly.
Her harsh glare makes him look away, but he double takes when he notices the desperation and panic swirling inside them.
"At least you're... alive?" He'd attempt to soothe.
Calamity exploded, "Alive and suffering!" She yowled, "My brain is a fucking oversized walnut!"
The woman paced the room- her hospital gown swaying in the wind of her quick pace. She circled the MRI machine with deep anxiety.
It wasn't just the diagnosis that was stressing her out- it was the fact her dream man was avoiding her.
"Why is he acting so weird?!" She exclaimed, "He's- just-" The she-wolf gripped her hair, "He's acting like a teenager too scared to talk to girls! Am I fucking ugly or something?"
Whipping back for any form of reassurance- she found Greyson zoned out whilst deep in his mind.
As soon as her gaze sweeped him, he whipped his head up and nodded, "Uh- Yeah."
Greyson bit his bottom lip in a self-soothing habit, "He is." The man agreed.
Desperate for a distraction, she waved her hands around dramatically, "Why're you even following me around?" She asked, "What am I- a dog?"
The man scoffed, "I need to constantly survey you to ensure you don't run, and-"
"-And to impress your dad." She finished his sentence for him, "Yeah, Yeah, alright... I get it."
Lifting her hands and letting them fall to her thighs with a light smack, she finally relented. It has been a long day, a stupid diagnosis, and stupid boy problems that were only worsening her anxiety. What an awful day.
Strutting up to him- her mohawk bounced with every step. She swiped the bathing suit from his bicep.
"Pool." She'd demand, "Right?"
Greyson stared at her briefly, thinking, before nodding, "Yes... pool."
Sassily tossing the bathing suit over her shoulder, she uplifted her chin dominantly, "Then let's go. Me and my inflamed fucking brain need to detox."
Groaning, he rolled his eyes.
"I still don't know what detoxing is."