The events that ensued after Faustus had seen to it that Dorset be taken to the hospital under another auror's supervision made him glad that Dorset had not been there. While they'd apprehended many a criminal with less trouble, Faustus had wanted to see to the man's incarceration himself, and had gone down to handle the paperwork. The steady exhaustion that had worked its way into his expression had only eased slightly with the knowledge that they had found the man and he would be properly punished. The man had known it too and done the stupid thing to try to escape. While not necessarily the most alarming thing in the world, Faustus was embarrassed to admit it had caught him off guard as the man had practically burst awake and attempted to lash out at anyone who came near. With no wand on his person, he had only been able to flail his feet wildly around and managed to deliver a rather sturdy kick to Faustus' ribs. He had been dealt many a kick to the side, so Faustus hadn't been too alarmed by the soft crack! that emitted from his ribcage as the foot connected with him, but he knew it would warrant being seen to by someone. It was by no means an ideal situation, but it gave Faustus the excuse to immediately stun the man perhaps a bit too well and the man fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.
With the excitement over, Faustus managed to process the man without any further hindrances — unconscious men were rather easy to deal with, and Faustus would kick himself for the next few days at letting someone revive him in the first place. It was only when he mentioned he had heard something crack and was headed to the hospital that someone had told him it was just as well because Dorset had been left alone there. Had he not been so elated at finally having the Florist Potts' shop attacker in custody, Faustus would have glowered, wondering why in Merlin's name Dorset was left at the hospital alone.
There really was nothing to it but to head to St. Mungo's, and Faustus soon arrived there ignoring the protest his ribcage was putting up. Cracked ribs weren't much to panic about, and he'd dealt with many a worse injury. After making a few inquiries, the head auror realized Dorset had made his way to the Spell Damage Unit, and suddenly there was someone else at the forefront of his mind other than the young police constable. As he walked through the halls to the Spell Damage unit, Faustus reminded himself of who exactly he was here to see — well, first to get his ribs taken care of, and then to see that Dorset had been seen to properly. Though if Miss Skovgaard was on duty, there was not a single doubt in his mind that the constable would be taken care of.
As he rounded the corner he heard two familiar voices fading off in the distance and knew his instincts had been right. Walking slowly so as to both let Miss Skovgaard get on with her ministrations and to keep his own injury from being exacerbated, Faustus made his way toward the wide wooden doors he'd just them disappear into. The sound of someone calling his name diverted him and he was suddenly faced with an old healer friend whose expert eye caught him trying to sneak away unattended to. The obligation to chat (and be healed) kept Faustus only briefly, given his excuse that he needed to check on another patient who had been admitted just before him, and with his ribs feeling much better, if only slightly bruised, he made his way to the room he'd just seen a familiar face disappear into.
He strolled up to the doorway and let the frame take his weight as he leaned against it, observing the two. Dorset was looking properly worried — not to mention pale — and eyeing Miss Skovgaard with the utmost caution, as if she'd just told him he would have to have a limb removed while Miss Skovgaard, though her back was to him, he knew would be sporting a calmly stern expression and likely looked like she wouldn't have even dreamed of delivering to him any such diagnosis. The scene caused him to chuckle softly. "There's no need to look so worried, Dorset." He said finally, looking to the patient, but not before letting his eyes linger for the briefest of moments on the healer. "You're in good hands."
With the excitement over, Faustus managed to process the man without any further hindrances — unconscious men were rather easy to deal with, and Faustus would kick himself for the next few days at letting someone revive him in the first place. It was only when he mentioned he had heard something crack and was headed to the hospital that someone had told him it was just as well because Dorset had been left alone there. Had he not been so elated at finally having the Florist Potts' shop attacker in custody, Faustus would have glowered, wondering why in Merlin's name Dorset was left at the hospital alone.
There really was nothing to it but to head to St. Mungo's, and Faustus soon arrived there ignoring the protest his ribcage was putting up. Cracked ribs weren't much to panic about, and he'd dealt with many a worse injury. After making a few inquiries, the head auror realized Dorset had made his way to the Spell Damage Unit, and suddenly there was someone else at the forefront of his mind other than the young police constable. As he walked through the halls to the Spell Damage unit, Faustus reminded himself of who exactly he was here to see — well, first to get his ribs taken care of, and then to see that Dorset had been seen to properly. Though if Miss Skovgaard was on duty, there was not a single doubt in his mind that the constable would be taken care of.
As he rounded the corner he heard two familiar voices fading off in the distance and knew his instincts had been right. Walking slowly so as to both let Miss Skovgaard get on with her ministrations and to keep his own injury from being exacerbated, Faustus made his way toward the wide wooden doors he'd just them disappear into. The sound of someone calling his name diverted him and he was suddenly faced with an old healer friend whose expert eye caught him trying to sneak away unattended to. The obligation to chat (and be healed) kept Faustus only briefly, given his excuse that he needed to check on another patient who had been admitted just before him, and with his ribs feeling much better, if only slightly bruised, he made his way to the room he'd just seen a familiar face disappear into.
He strolled up to the doorway and let the frame take his weight as he leaned against it, observing the two. Dorset was looking properly worried — not to mention pale — and eyeing Miss Skovgaard with the utmost caution, as if she'd just told him he would have to have a limb removed while Miss Skovgaard, though her back was to him, he knew would be sporting a calmly stern expression and likely looked like she wouldn't have even dreamed of delivering to him any such diagnosis. The scene caused him to chuckle softly. "There's no need to look so worried, Dorset." He said finally, looking to the patient, but not before letting his eyes linger for the briefest of moments on the healer. "You're in good hands."