"I am so glad I'm not a geneticist, because I'm pretty sure that would send me into some kind of fit if I were," even still, there's some part of his brain doing all KINDS of adding and subtracting of evolutionary sequences that could have led to THAT type of species hybridization (or even mimicry) and he's really not sure if he wants to jump up in down in joyful, nerdy glee about meeting a new subspecies or run flailing away from the thought of having to figure out how it all worked.
Maybe a bit of both.
But, first things first: Injury. Having become quite familiar with wing structure thanks to his pet pet church griffon, various pet coatls and more fricken dissections than he'd care to count or think about, he finds the wing joint fairly easy enough and- sure enough, the dislocation is easy enough to feel, along with tendons, muscles...
"Ideally, I'd prefer being able to X-Ray this, but given that I don't actually have access to the zoo's equipment on this short of notice," he says, apologetically. "On three- One-" and he pops it back into place before even getting to two, cruel, but effective.
"Sorry. My sister's trick." Antimony, of course. "The muscle stays more relaxed if you're not actually expecting it. I'm going to try and MacGuyver you a splint. I didn't feel any tearing in the ligaments, but chances are you're going to have some swelling and it'll be best if you keep it as immobile as possible. I'll get you some ice, too. I'd offer you painkillers, but I have no idea what would be safe to give you."
no subject
Maybe a bit of both.
But, first things first: Injury. Having become quite familiar with wing structure thanks to his pet pet church griffon, various pet coatls and more fricken dissections than he'd care to count or think about, he finds the wing joint fairly easy enough and- sure enough, the dislocation is easy enough to feel, along with tendons, muscles...
"Ideally, I'd prefer being able to X-Ray this, but given that I don't actually have access to the zoo's equipment on this short of notice," he says, apologetically. "On three- One-" and he pops it back into place before even getting to two, cruel, but effective.
"Sorry. My sister's trick." Antimony, of course. "The muscle stays more relaxed if you're not actually expecting it. I'm going to try and MacGuyver you a splint. I didn't feel any tearing in the ligaments, but chances are you're going to have some swelling and it'll be best if you keep it as immobile as possible. I'll get you some ice, too. I'd offer you painkillers, but I have no idea what would be safe to give you."