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Amélie wasn’t one to get hurt too badly on missions, seeing as how the only way she’d get banged up too badly was if she got flanked or did the wrong thing- like being on the front lines rather than at a comfortable distance away from the action to snipe.
Most of the time she ended up just needing to disinfect and wrap some scratches and gashes at home but nothing she’d have to worry enough to go to the base clinic. Because of this and the fact she didn’t have any sort of ointments to prevent scarring, she did have light speckles here and there from old skirmishes that were worse than others. The majority of the peppered scars were where her suit covered them (she always moved enough so bullets and scratches wouldn’t hit her chest or face, wanting to keep the appearance of smooth and neat skin where people could see it.) so she was comfortable with the placements.
But when a hand-to-hand scuffle during a mission had the enemy raking their nails across Amélie’s clavicle as a desperate last attempt, she knew she’d much rather prefer Angela taking care of the almost flayed skin than herself.
Widow made sure to bandage and clean the wound as well as she could while on the ride back to base, if she were to just let it bleed out and get worse the scar would be more ugly. If she could feel pain more, this would definitely be more than a slight sting that she was experiencing now. Thanking past trauma for her lack of sensitivity, she kept applying pressure to keep the skin sort-of together till she was dropped off to be treated.
The clinic smelled faintly of bleach, with a light lavender spray to cover the scent to the best of its ability. Most hospitals and clinics smelled like pepto bismol, chalky medicine, and pine sol, but here most people only came in for broken bones and wounds(with the occasional about-to-die emergency.) Walls were standard pastel, some being white and others an unsaturated blue with no stains in sight. The only place where it wasn't neat was where dust gathered in hard to scrape corners and floor linings. Chairs littered around tables in a decently large (and empty) waiting room to the left of the check-in desk.
Hearing Angela give light instructions to a nurse, Amélie walked gracefully to the sound trying to pronounce her feminine gait more than usual, despite not knowing if Angela was even behind the glass protected check-in until she saw the doctor pop out from behind the wall to give a warming smile. Mercy opened the door next to the office which led into a long hallway dressed in blue paint and white tile.
“Hello, Amélie! I’ll escort you to a room, we aren’t busy today so I’ll patch you up myself if that’s okay.” Taking a clipboard and placing stray hairs back in place, Angela stepped in front of her patient as a guide. The mutual clicks of heels against the floor felt somewhat endearing.
“More than exceptional to be in your company, mon chérie.” Widow took note of how well Angela has been looking recently, just a few weeks ago some of the soldiers were talking about how stressed and strung-out she looked. Widow pondered on giving a visit back then in case she needed company that wasn't some soldier who broke a leg or two from his own wrong decisions in battle. She decided against the visit though, Mercy probably wanted to relax alone when she could. On the walk to their room and on the examining table, Amélie filled out paperwork with the pen given to her after being taken from behind Angela's ear.
Getting into the routine of scrubbing her hands and slipping on latex gloves after getting the files, the doctor made an effort to put up some small talk. The basic place to start was to ask about the wound, but answers could give her more information to help them with addressing how to treat the wound in case there was more to it than the appearance.
“So, what happened? I heard you and some others went to Numbani and everything went smoothly. Gabriel and Mccree already called earlier but they didn’t say anything about you.” Leaning back slightly as Angela got close to examine her upper chest and neck, Amélie winced at having to recount the memory.
“A girl who decided acrylic nails are fit for fighting got too close to me right when I was about to finish her off, I guess I didn’t expect her.” She just stared down at the woman below her, admiring her features while she prodded slightly. Mercy had a blue scrunchie today, cute.
“That’s unfortunate.” Angela said sympathetically, looking up to meet eyes with her patient for a second before turning around for disinfectant and suture. Amélie's breath hitched during the moment, glad to catch some air while the doctor's back was turned. That's sort of embarrassing- to freeze over something so minuscule as eye contact. She took to looking at her own legs instead of Angela's.
“Come back in a week for me, okay? We’ll give you a call the day of your appointment to make sure you’re ready.” She started on her work, carefully taking off the bandages and analyzing the work done to preserve the skin's integrity. Giving an impressed hum she began cleaning up and injecting a numbing solution, not that it was too necessary. Angela's hair smelled sweet- vanilla maybe? It also looked soft, few dead ends in sight and fluffily bound in a pony tail. She kind of wanted to feel it, maybe just tuck Mercy's baby hairs and fringe back as they always seem to stray.
“What time?” Amélie said through her observation.
“I don’t have any appointments that day so come by whenever. If things change you’ll know from the call.” Angela carefully pricked through Amélie’s skin and pulled it back together, using gauze for any blood as she went. She made this seem easy, and with practice it probably was. Amélie was glad to hear everything has been slow lately, great time to let Mercy catch up on sleep and deserved off-time from the string of missions Overwatch has been pulling.
“What are your hours?” Amélie's eyes lazily followed Angela’s nimble fingers, how the doctor did the stitches swiftly with a professional smile. It wasn't as much coldly professional as it was almost sugary to look at, especially with this new angle where Angela's puffed cheeks seemed more pronounced. The smile paired nicely with thick lashes and slightly furrowed brows in concentration.
“Well, on that day, I’ll probably get off after some paperwork and your checkup. So, depending on when you come by I might get off early.” She was really comfortable with how close they had to be, Amélie sort of hoped she would at least be a little flustered or bashful. Her blush was cute, not that she saw it often aside from in battle if she got out of breath. Angela probably held her own emotions more than she let off- how many times has she had to hold a smile and swallow frustrated sighs and comments? Amélie wished she would be more close- trusting enough with only Amélie here where she would lightly banter about her day or maybe just say something more intimate(platonically or not) than "paperwork"
“I don’t have any missions or plans next week, just our appointment.” Widow smoothly said, careful not to directly say anything along her plans, wouldn’t be very cool to push a date on someone like that, would it Amélie? But she had to make a move to get a point across, the point being "You're cute and I enjoy when we talk" and not the more detailed description of how much she was infatuated right now that it was almost upsetting how out of character she was getting over some lush lips and an accent.
“And what are you implying with that?” Angela laughed the question lowly, taking a second to meet eyes with her patient, eyes slanted with a playful smile. Okay, okay... She wasn't disgusted or close off from the flirting, or maybe she was professionally holding her tongue from saying any declination. Nice soft paranoia, Amélie.
“Well, I very much admire your skills in your field, so I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time here. But if you’re going to be off, then how about a dinner?” Tilting her head with a pointed smile, Amélie relaxed more and leaned back, appreciating the slight bloom of color on Mercy’s cheeks. She was hoping for this since the start and surprised this cheesy set-up was working, Angela probably deserved a more formal and enticing date proposal.
“That sounds… Okay.” Angela coughed to set the subject aside and focus on her work, facing downwards to hide her face and bandage the wound. They were both too embarrassed to say much more other than thanks and Mercy's advice on how to take care of the stitches till next week.
Once Widowmaker left, Angela propped herself on the examining and looked over the paperwork, trying to find the phone number Amélie had written.