Aldrich and Gage get visited by Lyn and Salvae.
Location: Sick Bay -- Vanguard
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1120
Morpha can only keep a person down for so long. Sooner or later a person has to get up and walk around, however carefully, and apparently the time has come for Aldrich. It's a long process, but he's just in the process of finally climbing to his feet, though he remains a bit tottery.
Lyn makes her way back into the Sickbay, with the basket Aldrich requested in hand. She almost drops the damned thing when she sees him out of bed, and skitters over to make sure he doesn't fall down and go boom. "Whoa, Al. Are you allowed out of bed?" She sets the basket on the bedside table, keeping a hand on the chaplain's arm to steady him. With her bandages changed, she's in a clean Colonial Forces tank top and sweats, since she needs to wash the blood out of the other uniform.
Aldrich winces a little at Lyn's reaction, and stands still for a second to make sure he doesn't lose his balance. "Well, the alternative is not going to make whoever has to change the sheets very happy," he replies, with just a touch of grouch in his tone. "But I'm fine, thank you... I don't need to move far."
Gage has been in the sickbay since their return from Picon. His left arm has been braced and bandaged up, all the shrapnel being picked from his abdomen. He's been kept in overnight for observation, and now, having shaken off the drugs -- he's wide awake and sporting a look that every bored marine gets when they're forced to be still -- impatience incarnate, glancing around for a doctor as he paces up and down. He glances towards Aldrich as Lyn moves up to him. "Looks good for a man who took a rocket to the head," the marine comments, dryly.
Lyn shakes her head a little. "And people call me stubborn," she opines. She makes sure he isn't pulling out anything stuck to him by the doctors. She's old hat at being in Sick Bay. She gives a snort to Gage. "Right? I'm pretty sure that means they can go a couple days without changing the sheets."
Aldrich gives Lyn a dry look. "I'm not stubborn. I need to pee," he retorts, at his least Chaplain-ey. He probably does have an IV, which momentarily confuses the issue as he works out exactly what he's supposed to do with it. Gage earns himself a snort and a smirk. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't the rocket that hit me, directly. I'd guess one of the crates I was sitting on."
There's a grunt from Gage. "No-one likes being forced to lie still. Marines most of all," hard to tell whether he means Lyn should understand better than most, or whether he's implying Aldrich is a marine. His gaze swings away from the other two, towards the door. At Aldrich's correction, he responds: "Ought to wear that assertion with pride."
Lyn unhooks the IV bag from the stand and hands it to Aldrich, putting it in the arm the needle for it isn't stuck in, and holding his arm up so the drip continues to do its job. She colors a bit at the mention he has to pee and coughs a bit. "Ok well, I guess avoiding a catheter is reason enough to get out of bed with a serious head wound." She moves back to sit in a chair by his bed. "The rocket is not as much the culprit as the shrapnel is," she adds. She looks over to Gage. "I don't think we met before the mission yesterday. New to the Wolves?"
Aldrich smirks faintly and gives Gage another look. "If you say so." He takes the IV bag and moves his arm to the position she pushes it into. "Pardon me if I skip the introductions. I'll be right back," he offers, and shuffles off, walking very gingerly on that damaged leg to go find the head.
"Not much good as a story if you can't exaggerate a bit," is Gage's opinion on the matter. As he paces back towards the chair Lyn has taken up, he gives her a nod. "Tomak. Out of the Tauron Military." As if the accent and the tattoos weren't enough of a cue. "Came on board at Scorpia." He glances towards Aldrich, a not-quite-grin briefly lightening his expression as the chaplain goes to hit the head.
Lyn looks after the Chaplain with a small sigh. Her back and the backs of her arms are covered in thin strips of bandages covering up the gashes shrapnel carved in her skin last night. She makes the mistake of leaning back in the chair, winces, and turns the chair backward, to straddle it. "Lyn Arda, recon. Welcome to the Wolves. Looks like you already fit right in. We keep the Sick Bay busy."
"Wouldn't be a battle if you didn't get banged up a bit," Gage replies, with the ease of someone used to trading fire with Cylons. "Seems like that adage is as true of the CF as any military." He pauses a beat, then tips a head in the direction Aldrich went. "You two a thing?"
Lyn colors once more. "We're friends, " she blurts out, likely wrecking any believability to the statement. "And the Wolves tend to get shredded a bit harder. We get sent in for the toughest stuff. We pretty much collect our weight in sacrifice medals here." Stop blushing. Stop blushing. She turns to pour herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside stand.
Another grunt from Gage appears to expression surprise at that, though his facial expression barely changes. "Aint often seen a girl rush to a boy's side that fast that wasn't fraking him." Brown eyes rest on Lyn, undoubtedly noting the blushing. "Or wishing they were, anyway," he amends.
"No, nothing like that," Lyn says quietly. "He's just been a very good friend to me in times of need. I've kind of been a hot mess the last month or so." Or the last two years, Lyn.
Whether Gage believes that or not, it's hard to tell, his expression still not changing. "It's been a frakked up time. Heard some stories about the wolves. But then, everyone has their stories, since--" he gestures, goes silent.
Lyn nods. "Yeah. I'm from Aquaria." That says it all.
Aldrich comes shuffling back in a few minutes later, still looking pretty grim about the whole thing, and heads straight for his bed. If he overheard any of that, it's not showing on his face. "How do I get this thing back up?" he asks of no one in particular, as he approaches the IV stand with bag still in hand.
Understanding flickers in the depths of Gage's even gaze. "Being at Picon probably doesn't help." Picon being only slightly better than Aquaria. "You wish you were there, instead of here?" Nothing in his expression betrays the brief exchange between him and the other marine when Aldrich returns. He seems content to leave the IV-wrangling to the other marine, too.
Lyn shakes her head at Gage's words. "I miss it, but I was there for a week after the attack. No one should be there. No one should see what they did there." A shudder passes through the woman, but she shakes it off and moves to help Aldrich. She takes the bag from him and slips it back over the hook. "I got it, Al."
Aldrich seems just as happy to hand off the task to Lyn, which allows him to get back into bed. That in itself is a bit of a feat, since his chest was also pretty torn up in the explosion. "You should talk to Cate Rhodes," he says, though it's unclear who he's talking to until he sinks back into his pillow with a relieved sigh, and adds, "She was on Picon."
Gage gives a nod, brief, while his gaze flickers between the other two. "Think the Wolves'll be called there next?" The marine's left arm is braced and bandaged, other bandages around his abdomen less obvious other than the slight bump under his casual attire. Aldrich's suggestion earns a curious flicker of brow in wordless inquiry.
"Cate and I talk a lot," Lyn reminds Aldrich. "How much morpha do they have you on, anyway?" She smiles gently at the Chaplain, and moves to make sure his pillow is where he needs it when he eases himself back down into bed. "Did you need anything from that basket you asked me to bring you?" she asks. She looks back at Gage and shakes her head. "There's nothing there. Nothing to recover really. It's a low value target. It'll be last to reclaim if they even bother."
Salvae slips into the sickbay and grins as he sees a few familiar faces now awake. "They said we had a real life genuine hole-y man in our midst now," he jokes, spotting Aldrich on the bed, with Lyn doting over him. "Not such a bad sitch," he observes, seeing the setup.
"Not enough," Aldrich claims in a low mumble, but then the mention of the basket sinks in, and he starts to sit up again, with a frown. "Yes, actually. Thank you..." Apparently he expects her to bring the whole basket over to the bed. Then Salvae comes in and receives a weak smile for his quip. "I guess you could put it that way."
After a moment, Gage shakes his head in disagreement. "There's value in reclaiming what's been taken from us," is his view. He half turns as Salvae enters, giving the pilot a nod.
Lyn gives Salvae a smile. "Hey Socks, how are things in the air?" she asks. She gets up, achily, to retrieve the basket from the bedside table, and hands it to Aldrich. She also mouths "MORPHA" to Salvae so he knows to expect interesting conversations. She shrugs a little at Gage. "You weren't there. You didn't see it. There's nothing left. Just ice and hollowness."
"Aw, just a lopsided smile? I was working on that one all morning," Salvae comments as he makes his way over. He nods to Gage, not really knowing the marine at all. Lyn and Gage seem to be talking business, so he discretely pulls something out from under his duty jacket and sneaks it onto Aldrich's bed. "here ya go, Big Al.. Found this on your bunk, though you might want it," he says, tucking a knit up little wolf to the drugged up chaplain.
Aldrich looks at the knit wolf with a nonplussed look, maybe trying to figure out what it is. After a moment of confusion, he says, "I don't think this came from my bunk, but thank you?" He tucks the wolf into the basket, and then starts pulling out a candle and incense to place on the bedside table.
"No, I wasn't," Gage allows. And yet his expression implies an unspoken, still... that goes unvoiced. He watches Salvae's approach and offering to Aldrich with interest, brows going up for a moment.
"Not sure you're allowed to burn anything in Sick Bay, Al," Lyn cautions. "Oxygen tends to be rather explodey." She grins at the wolf though. "That is adorable. Did you make it?"
Salvae glances up to Lyn, "Ya, only the docs're loud to hack butts in sickbay, everyone knows that," he winks, leaning back against one of the empty bunks nearby, nodding his head, fessing up as his stealth mission had been noticed by everyone.
"Religious freedom," Aldrich replies, as he pulls out some matches. "Make sure they keep the oxygen tanks away and it'll be fine." So says the chaplain, but he's not exactly a medical expert.
Wordlessly, Gage eases away from the group. Almost as steathy as a recon! He's spotted a doctor, and after a few minutes exchange, appears to be cleared to leave, heading out.
Lyn looks at Salvae and grunts. "We're all gonna die in a raging fireball." She holds her breath as the matches come out, looking for the nearest extinguisher. "Al is a little cranky after waking up from his morpha nap," she notes to the pilot.
"Don't blame him, really, Morpha gives me a headache," he complains, shrugging his shoulders as he watches Aldrich working the candles and incense. "It'll be fine, he's got a clear.. meter from the nearest tank?" he chuckles, and watches to see if Aldrich loses his eyebrows or not.
Aldrich frowns. "I'm not cranky. My head hurts." He lights a match and starts the incense, but he leaves the candle unlit for now. And no one blows up, hooray! He may get yelled at by whoever is on duty, but for now, he seems satisfied, and sets the basket out of the way so he can lie back again.
When nothing blows up, Lyn looks relieved, and she straddles the backwards chair beside Aldrich's bed once more. She's in a loose CF tank top and sweats, and thin bandage strips are visible on the backs of her arms, and her upper back, from the shrapnel wounds she received in last night's supply mission. "Sorry your head hurts. Been there myself, a lot." The fact she has no head wounds this time around is a small miracle.
Not really in the incense crowd, Salvae was always puzzled with how people use it to relax. He sniffs, trying to recognize the scent, but it's beyond him. "Well, that ended well," he grins, and looks over Lyn and her catalogue of bandages and wounds. "Yall really went through the thresher, hey?"
Aldrich nods a little, as he relaxes and closes his eyes again. He seems to be drifting off again, probably worn out by the brief excursion.
"The toasters set up an ambush for the supply trucks we were escorting. Not just that, they had rockets, aimed specifically for the vehicles, and retreated when they'd blown both up. It was planned, coordinated, and tactically sound. They're evolving strategically," Lyn says with a grimace. She looks saddened when Al drifts off again, and she looks over to Salvae. "He's going to be ok, I think."
Salvae nods his head, "yeah, we got some good docs on board, he'll be right as rain in no time at all," he gives a confident smile, everyone's looking pretty good, better than Geoff did, at least.
"I dunno, Socks. He was saying weird things earlier. I thought it might be the head wound, but maybe it was just the morpha. He seemed a lot more coherent this visit." Lyn pushes up from the chair and returns it to where it belongs. "I should probably go get some laundry done. It's cold water to get out blood, right?" Hey he knits, he might know this stuff!
"Yer pre-treating with a Dr. Jiffy's Spot Jabber, right?" Salvae wonders, not knowing if anyone else has heard of the cleaning brand used by all proud Minotoans "Otherwise, might be best to just dye everything red."
"What the frak is a Dr. Jiffy's whosawhatsit?" Lyn asks. Military brat. She's not used to delicate cycles and such. She looks truly perplexed, like she's missed out on some great universal secret of laundry.
"Oh, Lords, how'd ya get outta basic without the help of Dr. Jiffy?" Salvae laughs. "Standard kit on Aerilon, lemme tell ya. That shit'll melt the stains off of anything, but ya can't use too much, otherwise you'll have a buncha white dots on everything. If ya need some, I've a jabber in my footlocker."
"Thanks Socks, I might take you up on that. Just drop it on my rack and I'll get it back to you as soon as I'm done?" Lyn looks tired, but she's also look back at the sleeping Chaplain with a crease in her brow and a bit of a faraway look in her eyes.
"You betcha, Sarge," Salvae nods his head. He glances down at the slumbering chaplain, and pulls Aldrich's blanket up a bit so he doesn't catch a chill before heading out.