Bit 3.2

This is the worst day of my life.
This beats the day I went out with Handysides for a lunchtime drink "or ten" and bumped into Kate. And she took weeks to forgive me for that.
This beats everything.
They're all staring at me. Well, except for Rob, who's too busy pissing himself laughing.
Can it get more humiliating? Being examined by the boyfriend of your unrequited love, while said unrequited love and friends stare at you wishing they could burn you with their eyes?

The answer you're looking for is no.
"OK, your right arm's badly bruised, but not broken. A couple of your ribs are though. I think it's a clean break with all of them, but you're going to need hospital."
Damn you for being so nice, Michael Finchley.
"Most of the rest of it's superficial, it'll clear up in a few days. Apart from that cut above your eye. You're going to need stitches on that."
"Maybe a scar'll remind him not to be so stupid." Oh that hurts more than anything. Maybe if I prostrate myself in front of her she'll forgive me?
"You're pretty lucky though. No teeth lost and your fingers are fine, so once the swelling in your lip goes down and your arm mends you'll be back to playing trumpet in no time."
It takes effort to hate someone who's so fundamentally decent.
"Fanks ma'"
"What were you doing out in Guinevere anyway?"
Come through for me Rob.
"They were out doing some research." Or Dmitri. Either of you would have done. I love you.
"Research for what?" Kate, I love you more, but please shut up. "I thought IPC banned any non-essential staff from the area?"
"I'm helping out with sports desk during the quiet season." Ah Rob, finally you prove some use. "They wanted us to do some research on attitudes to football around the city."
It was going so well.
"I thought you hated football?" Oh piss off Finchley.
"'fort I'd 'elp".
"I needed someone with higher clearance to get to a suburb pub. We figured that one was near enough the borders that it's be pretty safe." Oh God, he's going to make me suffer for this.
"A safe suburban pub. Good one." And I think Dmitri's going to make me suffer too.
"Yes." Kate's voice could freeze Hell over. I think I may have comprehensively blown any chance I had with her. So much for sympathy over my war wounds.
"Anyway, come on, Michael's going to drive you to hospital. He's due to start his shift in a couple of hours."
Oh cruel fate, why do you mock me?
"'m fine. 'onest. Jus' need rest." That's pretty poor by my standards.
"You really need your ribs checking out Remi." Oh, thank you Dr Finchley. I can't actually think of any torture worse than sitting in a car with you and Kate watching you carry on your date in the front seat and not being able to shove you out of one of the doors into oncoming traffic.
"It's alright. I'll drive him." I swear Dmitri is redefining the word 'saint' tonight. "You two get back to whatever you were doing." Scratch that, he's a git.
"If you're sure D? It would mean we'd actually get to spend a bit of time together for a change."
This is so unfair. I'm sat here broken and bleeding and she's actually kissing him in front of me. Why didn't Trawlerman just put me out of my misery?
"I need a lie down first." Picking myself up off the sofa, I limp feebly to the stairs. I don't care about the pain. Anything's better than watching my heart get torn out and ruthlesslly trampled underfoot.