"Look, Lex. We gotta get somethings straight here."
"First, you're gonna be fine. DNVs are intact and appropriate, you didn't lose that much blood, no matter what my bedspread looks like, and it looks like it must have been an FMJ round, since it passed through without too much disruption. Compared to what it could have been, anyway. Doesn't look like it needs debrided, so we'll just get you some antibiotics and happy pills for the pain, and have you stay here for a couple days to keep an eye on you. Anyone who might wonder where you are, let them know an old freind came in from out of town, and you're gonna bum around with them for a few days."
"Second, you probably already figured out you aren't gonna be going back to waiting tables any time soon. Kinda the down side of our profession - we don't trust anyone to forget what they saw. Just know we handle these situations two ways, and you're getting the better of the deals, believe me. We can talk specifics later, but I didn't want you thinking you needed to bust out or anyting stupid like that."
"Third - I can see you and this Fulhead guy have got something. I pray for your sake it just popped up now, or is Stockholm Syndrome or something, because if this goes bad, it goes bad for all of us, and if I find out you were working together before, they aren't even going to find pieces of you. But I need what Fantocini and Fulhead have got - see what you can do about getting them back here. I left Fanto a, shall we say, enticing voice mail, but no man alive is gonna ignore that little pouty voice you've got."
"Finally, in case all my reassuring failed, and you think you need to try something heroic, your nursemaid over there has two fully loaded and silenced USPs. And they pick up trash tomorrow. But I know you're a smarter girl than that, and I think you know what I can do for you, so I don't think it'll be a problem. Now, I gotta go make some calls. You get better, you hear?"