2237-08-07 - Visiting Hours

Erin brings a very special guest to visit Charlie in sickbay

Date: 2237-08-07

Location: Sickbay

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 389

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The joys of being shot in the head! There are... few. Very few, actually. You get jello, for one. And lots of morpha. But you don't really get to enjoy the morpha because it mostly just makes sure you sleep and keeps the pounding headaches at bay. Charlie hasn't even been allowed to return to her bunk to see Sasha yet. Evan's been spending time with her as his schedule allows, but he must be away on a mission or another shipboard duty because for the moment, the area around the sniper's bed is empty of visitors.

The bedside table is rolled up across her lap area. There's a cup of water with a straw, a mostly eaten jello cup, and a vidplayer with some movie going quietly. The woman herself isn't even really paying attention. Her eyes are mostly closed and she may be somewhere between asleep and awake. A bit of her bandages have come loose to fall down over one of her eyes.

"Herro?" comes a voice. A question. "Chuck. Chuuuuuuuck." It could be a dream, but, then, dreams don't usually come in gunmetal with the smell of oil.

"I'm sooooo sorry, Chuck. I let -- I let someone else oil me up!" comes a hiccupping, chittering little voice from beside the bed. And then, should Charlie look, she'll see the barrel of Sasha pop up. "But I'm here! And it's okay. Sometimes, you have to -- you have to let someone oil you up to get what you want, right?"

"Do you still love me, mama? Do you? Do you love me now?"

It's kind of funny, and kind of creepy. Just like Liza Minnelli.

"...don't make me go to lollipop junction!" The startled proclamation comes a fair bit louder than Charlie would ever intend and alongside a jerk of her arms. One hand knocks into the table, rattling the jello cup and its spoon. The sniper blinks a few times, lifting an arm to scrabble fingers in a dopey way at her bandaging to push it a bit higher one her forehead. That familiar scent of CLP is a bit stronger and draws her attention to the side of the bed. She blinks a few times and reaches a hand out towards her rifle. "Sasha?" Is it a dream? Surely not! Even her addled mind wouldn't taunt her so.

"How'd you get past the nurses?" The woman yawns, angling to push herself upright a bit as she reaches towards the weapon. "C'mere, before someone sees you."

With a snicker, Erin lets Sasha go, so that Charlie can cuddle her rifle adorably. "Aww," says the raccoon Marine. "Look at you. All bandaged up. Hugging your favorite toy." Sigh. "This -- this is something that needs to be put on a postcard. 'Thinking of You'. Something like that." Snicker.

The Aquarian waggles her eyebrows, and then puts a hand on Charlie's forearm. She's kneeling by the bed, so only her face appears. "Hi. You look like you could use a pick-me-up." Snort. "Also, I smuggled in some food. You want some real stuff? I gots it, babe."

It's not quite cuddling- at least not in the sense one might cuddle a puppy or a stuffed toy. But Charlie does stroke her rifle gently. "I'm sorry we didn't get the big bad sniper bot," she mumbles to the gun. "We tried. Next time." Nope, instead sniper bot got Charlie. Apparently they recognize the human snipers now. She maneuvers herself slowly upright so she can start checking the gun over; more out of habit than a distrust of her fellow marines and their care and treatment of her weapon. "Postcards I can send to the cylons. Reminder of what's coming for 'em."

There's a look over to the other recon lady when the hand lands on her arm. She affects a small smile. "I wish, but I'm still getting pretty sick when I try to eat. They think that'll pass by tomorrow though."

Erin is not a lady. She is a trash panda, through and through. Probably bites, and probably has rabies, but it horribly adorkable nonetheless.

"Mm. Y'know -- " She clears her throat. " -- I'll bring something by when you can eat, Chuck. Only fair. I mean, I think you were the only person 'sides Katja that ever came to visit me." Snort. "Ingrates, right? Take a blowtorch to the vagina, and all I get are two guests. And a medal. Still -- " She laughs. " -- company's nice."

Break. "So, what did the docs say? You going to be okay? We going to need to put a helmet on you all the time?"

"Most of us hate the sickbay," Charlie explains, flashing a tired -- morpha-dopey -- smile to Erin. "Only visitor I've had other'n Evan was Logan and I think that's just 'cause he was here to be treated himself anyway." She closes her eyes for a moment, but doesn't let go of the rifle. It's not fully re-assembeld yet, anyway. She just needs the room to stop spinning. "Food would be nice. If they don't let me go tomorrow. If they do, you can raid the Mess with me, yeah?"

Once she's got her eyes open and is fussing with her gun again, she snorts. "I'll be alright. Gonna have one of those music video half-shaved hairstyles for a while. They had to pull a lot of bits out of there. But I shouldn't be out of things too long, I don't think." She pauses and frowns. "I hope not, at least."

"Just don't rush it, Power Girl." Erin pats Charlie on the arm. "You know, what you told me the other day, that all sunk in. Finally." Snort. "Getting over being, you know, embarrassed about what happened. So, same here, right? Take your time, get better, no one'll think you're a pansy." Shrug. "Get on out, ride Evan for a few hours, and you'll be back to normal, you see, you gun-toting, man-wrangling, bush-hiding sex-pot."

The raccoon winks. "Besides, I may or may not have procured some alcohol for your consumption. Good stuff, you see; some idiots left it behind for sale, and I was, like, yo, I know that stuff, Imma gonna get it." Head-bob. "So, I did. Stuffed it in my footlocker. Told Kat I'd bite her if she touched it, so it's yours, yeah?"

"What I said the other day?" Charlie's clearly trying to remember and it's not until Erin fills in the details that she does. She blinks a few times and her mouth forms a silent 'oh' of understanding. She smiles for the raccoon. "Good. 'Cause you're pretty great and anyone who would let what you went through get in the way of that isn't worth your time anyway, y'know?" She goes giggle a bit at the mention of riding Evan; the morpha making her a bit more outwardly emotive about it than usual. "I plan to," she affirms, giving a little bob of her head that leads to unfocused eyes and a quiet moan. She closes them, then, tilting her head back into the pillow.

"Booze'll be nice. Once... my stomach is all better and stuff."

"Yeeeeeah. Nothing says, like, don't frak me than puking on the poor guy you're bouncing on." Erin giggles. "Or, so I hear. That's never happened to me. Ever."

The other Marine pats her friend on the arm again. "Listen, you should get better. And soon. Because we've lots to do together, and lots to talk about. Lots of toasters to pick apart. And then, like, lots of time to fuss over your kids because, like, they are totally in your future if you keep things up, yeah?" Snicker. "Little, itty-bitty recon marines. Like kittens."

"I haven't puked on anyone I'm frakking..." Charlie stops herself before she says 'ever' and finishes with: "...in a long, long time." She finally finishes with Sasha and gets the rifle back in working order. To her satisfaction. She won't be getting any medals for this work, but at least she knows her baby is intact. There's a look over to Erin and a small smile. "Gotta take out all those frakkers. Pew pew an' all that. Plus there's like, museums and temples and shit down there." Caprica and all.

To the last, however, she sputters. "Frak no! I take the pills and everything." She reaches down and drags up the tanks she's wearing, patting her abdomen. "See this? I ain't ruining this with no spawn. Little screaming parasites. Nuh-uh. Evan and I haven't ever talked 'bout that. I think he knows better."

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Well -- " Erin rolls her eyes. " -- we'll see, right? Some day I'll bet you're going to want a little thingamajig following you around that isn't Calhoun, and you'll be all, like, 'how could i ever have lived without you, my little precious mushkins!'." Yes, she's making fun of Charlie, but she can, because the latter is stuck in a hospital bed.

Fortunately, no sausages around.

"Listen, I'd better get your girl back to Daddy. He's probably wondering where she is." Erin reaches out for the weapon. "But, I promise you, I'm just taking her out for a stroll, maybe a movie, and then some light petting. That's it. She'll be home by curfew, I promise."

"Nuh-uh. Kids ruin bodies. It's a fact. And then they ruin houses. And cars. And bank accounts." Charlie sticks her tongue out at Erin. "Not to mention sex lives. I like my sex life! There's a lot of it." Hopefully whoever is in the bed next to her is either sleeping or too drugged up to care about what they're hearing. The nurses probably hear plenty worse from those drugged up.

When the other marine talks of taking the rifle back, Spectre briefly clings all the tighter to her gun before sighing and relinquishing it into Hayes' care. "Yeah, doc prob'ly wouldn't be too happy to find Sasha in bed with me." She does pout a little to see the weapon go. "But thank you for bringing her. It's good to see her taken care of."

"Oh, she's a good girl." Erin licks her lips slowly, and then snickers. Because, you know, she can do that, and not look completely ridiculous.

"I'll catch you again, then, Chuck. When you're a little better. We'll get you nice and fed and plump. Ruin that stomach of yours, bwahahahah." She tucks the rifle under an arm, and then slowly disappears down the side of the bed.

Presumably, she sneaks out after. She doesn't say anything else. And, damn, if she ain't as quiet as a raccoon.


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