All plot ideas check in here please

Scar was eating cookies on the table while tending to her cut-up arm.

Mal walked in and stole a cookie from Scar. "What happened to your arm?" he asked while nibbling on the cookie.

Scar poured straight alcohol on all the cuts; it appeared as if someone tried hacking it off. "Got in a fight." She munched on cookies and rum, a bottle of Advil on the table beside her, empty.

"Geez, what was it over? That's no little cut," Mal said, taking another cookie.

Scar pokes at her bone, wincing. "Oh...it was with my step-grandmother/bimbo b*tch."

"... Geez, she must not be all that old for a grandmother if she managed to do that," Mal stated, raising his eyebrows at the cut and sitting down across from Scar.

"She's only a few years older than me. Grandad is engaged to her, unfortunately it's lasting longer than usual." Scar poured more alcohol on the cut, clenching her teeth.

"... That's weird..." Mal stated, watching Scar pour the alcohol on the cut. "Maybe you should go see a doctor or something..."

"And he's millions of years old, immortal blah blah blah. The problem is she thinks she can rule the kingdom, blah blah, hence the fight." Scar giggled. "And say what?"

"You know, a doctor? People professionally trained to treat wounds and illnesses and stuff?" Mal asked, surprised that she didn't know what a doctor was. Actually, he was a lot more than surprised, since to him a doctor was common knowledge.

"..I know what a doctor is, but seriously what the hell would I say? Oh hello I just need my arm fixed, no I do not need surgery oh yeah my blood is black and yeah not completely human either!" Scar said sarcastically.

"Hey, I didn't know." Mal held up his hands in innocence. "There are magical doctors, though."

"That aren't crappy?" Scar raised her eyebrows.

"Well, I don't really know any..." Mal didn't go to the doctor all that often, especially not since his sister had healing magic. There was really no need most of the time.

"Uh huh. I think I'll pass." Scar sighed, pouring another bottle of alcohol on it.

"Are you sure dumping alcohol on it is gonna help?" Mal asked, having his doubts.

"I dunno, it's supposed to sterilize it right? Cause she used a lovely rusty sword..." Scar grimaced, having no clue about healing.

"... I don't think alcohol's gonna help..." Mal said. He didn't know all that much about healing himself, other than the basics.

"Oh." Scar tossed the five bottles in the trash, sighing.

"Besides, I think that you need some sort of shot or something when you get cut by a rusty stuff," Mal said, thinking he should have paid better attention when people talked about this kind of stuff.

Scar turned pale. "Sssssssshot?!"

"Like a needle?" Mal said, shrugging. He, fortunately, had no issues with hospitals or needles, so he didn't think much of it.

"Oh devil." She passed out cold, falling backwards.

"Geez!" Mal exclaimed, getting out of his chair and going over to her to help her out. "Guess someone's not a far of needles."

Scar woke up, scared. "Nuneedles." She muttered, for once accepting the help.