McCoy

Leonard McCoy stared incredulously at Kuro'o Hazama, prepping his instruments for a quite unfortunate dragon lying still on the cleanest surface available to them. That said, he barely registered the jab made at his appearance.

"It'll be fine. Relax, or I might have to help you with your ongoing aneurysm."
"Fine? FINE? That poor son of a gun has a-"

Kuro'o cut him off.
"I am aware of what's happening, and I know just what I'm going to do to fix it."

Leonard could barely take his eyes off the sanitized implements glinting in the ample light. You could cut even the air with a blade that sharp. Wonder where he got those sharpened- hell, smelted, I didn't even see any identifiers on them... he mused to himself as he pulled his tricorder free for one more pre-op scan.

"Seriously? You're going to do that again?"

"Well, yes, better safe than surprised." Leonard blinked.
Kuro'o rolled his eyes.
"Yes, yes, of course... But is there really no way to turn down that godawful noise? It's very hard to concentrate-"
"It's not going to stay on! Just give me a couple more seconds, lords almighty. Y'know, you can get used to it after a while..."

The machine whirred and blipped as it laid the dragon's health bare.

"Mmmhm." Leonard sighed. "You know, I have the means to do this without opening him up like a fish on our-"
"We can't move him now, and we don't have time. And from what I've gathered from your... "teleportation" nonsense, I can't say I trust it. He was brought to me after all."

"...Whatever you say. I have heard tales of your legendary medical acumen, but this is just so.. medieval" Leonard grumbled. "I do agree with you about the transporter though, makes me nervous every time. Many a horror story about beaming mishaps."