2237-05-25 - Bedside Manner

Salvae swings by Sickbay to see how Geoff's doing.

Date: 2237-05-25

Location: Sickbay

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1050

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"You didn't go into that mission ripped, didya?" Salvae wonders. The last time he'd seen Geoff, was after he found that six pack on the landing pad. He gets closer and pulls up a chair, "How are ya now?" he wonders, trying to see if there's anybody under all those bandages and casts.

Geoff looks a mess. He's bandaged heavily on his chest and abdomen, somewhat on his right arm, and he's got an IV dripping and monitors attached. He's also on a good dose of morpha, so he's a little slow on the uptake at times. "It's Socks," he says, voice a little raspy. "No, when I signed this body out it was okay, think I'll lose my deposit?"

Salvae nods his head, "Looks like," he observes, peeking under the blanket a bit to survey the damage He spots a few red gauze pads covering the marine's chest and abdomen. "Looks like they missed anything important, though. Just incase you're worried, but you might miss this year's beach season." He tsks, his eyes drifting back over to the IV drip. "Ah, they got you on the good shit, I see."

"Lot cheaper than it goes for on Caprica," Geoff banters back, letting Salvae gawp his fill at his wounds. "Thanks," he says. "Think I'll get a lot of ugly scars?"

"Oh, come on, get it right. The term's 'cool' scars," Salvae counters. "Think you'll get a lot of 'cool' scars? Yeah, a few. At least better than my buddy Ray back home after he got kicked by a cow. Caught him right in the nutsack. Swolled right up till it looked like an overripe avacado. We pulled him back to down and the doc had to drain it." He winces and shakes his head, "One thing you probably never want to see is someone stickin a needle into someone's nutsack. It was under so much pressure it frakkin burst a bit."

Geoff makes a face at the idea of avocadoballs. That got through the morpha. "Kovac said he put a tube up my dick, there's that," he says. He squints at Salvae. How are you?

"Oh ya? Must be a small tube, didn't notice it," He winks to Geoff. Leaning back in the chair, he shrugs his shoulders. "Oh, not so bad. Worried about Razor, a bit. JAG's being a bunch of jagoffs about this whole friendly fire thing. It'll blow over, though, Webb'll take care of things."

"They put me out for surgery," Geoff responds, snorting faintly. "What exactly happened with that?" he asks. The friendly fire, not his surgery. Or his dick.

"Not sure yet, they have the flight dressing up purty for the press," Salvae explains "I gots ta give my recollection of the events, but they have that all on tape anyways, they'll be able to see those bozos flew right into us in enemy territory."

"Frak, I'd hate that," Geoff says. "Talking in front of all those people. What if you said the wrong thing?"

"Ya, no shit. My lawyer told me to talk like a Caprican if I can manage," Salvae says with a little grin. "Keep thinks point form and monosyllabic."

Geoff snorts softly in lieu of real laughter, which can be extremely painful in his current state. "Frak off," he says warmly. Then he adds, "Aphrodite's tits, I am dying for a cigarette."

"Only the doctors get to smoke in sick by," Salvae says. "But, don't worry, I gotcha covered," he says, leaning back, he digs into his pocket and pulls out a small puck of chaw. "Stick this under yer lip and it'll make a man out of ya." he offeres. "Just don't try it while flying a viper, puking in a flight helmet ain't pretty."

Geoff raises an eyebrow at this little puck. "Yeah?" he asks. "Wait, am I gonna puke? Cuz if I puke all my stitches are gonna pop out and I'm gonna die. And I just got high on life."

"Only if ya swallow the juice," Salvae explains. He unscrews the cap and leans forward, pinching off a small bit of the leaf. "Here, give this a try," he says fussing for a moment to stick it into Geoff's mouth. He leans back, and digs around for a little metal medical tray. "Here, ya can hork into this. Doc'll prolly think it's you clearing your lungs or somethin."

Geoff looks a little doubtful, but maybe also intrigued. It's about the most unexpected thing to have happened in the sickbay. "So don't swallow, huh?" he doesn't stop Salvae from putting tobacco in his mouth. "You know, you might be crazy, Socks."

Salvae pfffts, and tucks the little dribble tray under Geoff's chin, smirking at the sight. "Naw, what's crazy is not convincing any of the nurses to give you a squeezer while your arm's out of commish." he says.

Geoff looks like he has to try not to choke when Salvae says that. It doesn't help to be learning to chew tobacco while you're on morpha. "Don't let Kovac hear you say that, he'll be doing it just to add drama to his life."

"Ah, doc's a hero for the people, eh?" Salvae arches an eyebrow and looks back over his shoulder. "Maybe I should trip down some steps or something, hey?" he settles down again and watches to make sure Geoff doesn't throw up or anything, giving him a moment to catch the buzz and see if it's a good one or a bad one.

"I think it's tingly," Geoff says. "But it's hard to tell. Morpha's got my head like a balloon." He smiles. "You prob'ly should'a met Kovac before he got so tight with Cadmus if /that's/ what you want," he says, slurring a little with the dip in his mouth. "Seems like he mighta been more liberal with a tug in the good old days."

"That means it's werkin," Salvae nods his head, repeating the line from the commercials. He grabs a little towel and dabs Geoff's chin, "Yer leakin all over yourself," he observes. "I'll keep my eyes peeled," he advises. "So, the docs say how long you'll be here? If you're itchin for a dart, you shouldn't be too long for the bay, no?"

"Frak," Geoff says, lifting his uninjured left hand toward his face. "I can't even feel it." The corners of his eyes tighten up, a little uncomfortable. "Nobody'll say," he says. "Could be I even need more surgery. Shrapnel...it's hard to get it all..."

Salvae nods his head and reaches for the makeshift spittoon, "If yer gettin a palsy or something, might be best to spit out now," he advises. "Back in high school, I dipped on the way back to school from the dentist, looked like a frakkin horror movie when I got home, scared the shit out of ma."

Geoff laughs by snorting air out of his nose again, but that ends up being very weird with tobacco-spit in his mouth, so he spits out the chaw after all, reaching up to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. "I think...I need less morpha to...make /that/ work," he says, and his gaze drifts. "I never went to the dentist as a kid..."

Salvae grimaces at the goop being spit up, but does his best to keep it from dripping all over the patient. He sets the metal tray down on the side table for someone to deal with later. "You lucky bastard," he says. "Our town dentist had the hairiest frakkin arms you've ever seen. It was like a giant frakkin caterpiller crawling into your mouth when he was diggin around looking for cavities."

Geoff's eyes drift closed, but he gives a wonky smile at that. "You're really frakkin' funny, Socks," he says. Then he opens his mouth. "Friend made me go when I was like eighteen, I almost stabbed the motherfrakker. Can't believe I paid him money to make me bleed."

"Well, ya gotta take care of yer chompers, you don't want to end up dentally retarded, do ya?" Now that was a short lived public service commercial.

"Somebody wants to put his fingers in my mouth /I/ oughta get paid," Geoff grouses hazily.

"My avionics instructor once said, 'never put yer finger where you wouldn't put your dick,'" Salvae chuckles, and leans back watching the marine slowly fade back to sleep.

"'S very good advice," Geoff says, nodding approvingly if slowly. "But you gotta expect a difference in price."

A grudging nod is Salvaes response, "Spose that's decent, whatdya think, kinky finger shit ten cubits, blowie five?"

Geoff laughs as gently as he can. "Kinky finger shit," he replies. Morpha makes everything more entertaining. "You can do better than five," he says. "But you gotta know your mark, right?"

"Ya, next time I get down to the beach, I'll hit the boardwalk in my cutoffs and shake it for the potbelly tourists, eh?" Salvae chuckles. He leans his chair back a little bit and looks around, "You got any readin here?" he wonders, checking the drawer of the side table.

"You can knit yourself some hotpants," Geoff suggests in a lazy mumble. The sidetable features a few out of date magazines. "Preacher brought me magazines but it's hard to concentrate on 'em."

Salvae spots one and thumbs through it. He's not really into the subject matter, but does appreciate some of the pictures. "Oh, ya, now you're talkin! I was gonna go for a onsie to wear under my flight suit, but couldn't find enough yarn for that sorta thing. A pair of hotpants should be pretty easy, though."

"You'd be...distinctive," Geoff says. "What color would you go with?" The magazines are mostly celebrity gossip and fashion themed, with a few general interest issues thrown in.

"Let's see, I have some blue and gold right now, I've been pretty low on anything with pizzaz," he says. "Kunnar isn't great for the hobby," he says, "Maybe if our LZ shifts to a different province I'll be able to pick something up."

"We gotta figure that out," Geoff says. "New yarn for you. Some exciting colors."

"Ya, for real, though, everything's so ... grey on these ships," Salvae says. His previous posting had been on a planet, flying from a ground base. He hears the hour chimes over the intercom and gets up, "Well, I best be going, got CAP in thirty. Any of these nurses try any of that kinkky finger shit with you... Let me know!" he winks.

Geoff opens his eyes a little more at that comment. "It /is/ gray..." he agrees with certain emphasis. But it's clear he's floating by now, so it probably doesn't mean much. "Keep your socks dry," he bids as a sort of farewell.

"Keep yer dick up," Salvae nods to Geoff as he gets up and heads off to get ready for space command.


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