After a bit of a dustup with a Caprican marine, Gage has to check in with medical. On duty, Sarita finds herself introduced to another member of the Wolves as a result.
Location: Argyros Base Medbay
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 492
The Argyros base medical facilities are a good deal more vast than what the Dauntless has to offer. One would certainly hope so, for the size difference between Escort Carrier and air base, but even so. It's a busy place and the Timber Wolves' medical staff have, at the least, been given their own area to operate (ha ha) out of. It's a shared sort of facility, so it feels somewhat like home. At the least, Sarita is only sharing a desk area with a few others rather than jockeying for space with some Caprican medico who would likely be grousing about her moving the photos of their kids about all day. Instead, it's a banged up metal desk off in the corner with drawers that function only when they want to. In short: it probably wouldn't be in use if they weren't here. Or only part-time.
Even so, it gives the surgeon a space to work out of while on rotation without knocking elbows with someone else.
Settled in during the relative quiet, she's got a few files out, lab-coat on over her duty blues, humming quietly (and somewhat off-key) as she reads. A pen-cap sticks out of the side of her mouth as she chews absently on it.
It's perhaps telling that Gage's arrival at the base's medical center is not solo, but accompanied by a stern looking sergeant. After giving a sharp look at the Corporal, the sergeant leaves Gage at the doorway, turning on a heel and departing. Grimacing after him, the Tauron marine steps inside, arms folded as he scouts the area for a familiar Timber Wolf face. He's sporting the shading of the makings of an impressive black eye, and there's a bit of blood coming from his nose, though at least it's not gushing. One of the Caprican doctors approaches him, but he shakes his head sharply -- a few terse words exchanged and the doctor shrug and walks off. He glances Sarita's way, briefly, then after a moment, approaches her with a slouching posture that reeks of reluctance. "Tilimsani about?" he asks.
There's a look up when Gage approaches and Sarita tilts her head, taking stock of things. It's just a quick look through slightly narrowed eyes before she tosses the file aside. The woman unfolds herself from the chair, standing. The pen cap only gets set on the desk as an afterthought before her hands go to the pockets of her labcoat. "Corpsman, right? Believe she's on a training assignment today." Her accent is Canceron, in that way that's tinged with a bit of Virgan as many are. That lingering colonization from their recently-earned independence. "I'm Captain Hargrave." A Virgan surname, but the woman herself lacks the look of it. "Recently transferred to the Timber Wolves. Still learning the names." She nods towards one of the beds nearby. "Let me guess. He doubted the legitimacy of your fake girlfriend on Aerilon."
There's a disappointed grunt from Gage. Or maybe it's just a normal grunt and that's just how he communicates best. "Hargrave," the combat engineer gives her a nod, after she indicates her transfer to the Wolves. "Tomak," he offers in turn. "Welcome to... well, nothing like our normal posting." He gives a shrug, his eyes tracking where she nods towards one of the beds, though his gaze returns to her without shifting his position. "Training with Capricans," he says, shortly. There was no marine ones scheduled, so maybe it was a 'impromptu' sort of one. "Nothing to worry about. Had worse, the sergeant just has an aversion to blood," he says, with a brief smirk.
"Mmhmmm." Sarita sounds disapproving as he explains. She doesn't know the marine schedules. They don't pertain to her and being newly transferred? Likely she has plenty on her plate for playing catchup as it is. The woman doesn't press the point for the bed, but steps away to one of the nearby trays with various first aid paraphernalia nonetheless to grab a few items. Mostly a pair of gloves, an alcohol pad, and some gauze. "Difficult to work with they may be," she says as she pulls on the gloves and grabs the other two items, "you are representing a SpecOps unit." Turning back she gestures for him to look up so she can examine his nose. "Plus, I imagine their brig is downright miserable."
Clearly, the marine's used to disappointing looks from officers and doctors alike; it doesn't seem to especially change Gage's demeanor or his casual slouch either. His brows, however, go upward at words about the Capricans, giving her a closer look. It's not the look of a man assessing a woman so much as it is that of someone reassessing his first impression. "Aint my style to leave a challenge unanswered," is all the marine says, though he does, after a moment, dutifully lift his chin for the doctor to make her inspection.
"You can answer a challenge with more than just your fists." Sarita's examination is perfunctory, but not unkind. She simply makes quick work of it and assumes he has no need of being coddles through any pain that comes of being checked for any breaks. Around the nose, or worse: ocular. "I just hope you left him in worse shape or you chose the wrong challenge, Corporal." In the end, it's a matter of cleanup and offering him the gauze for further cleaning. She steps back to grab a nearby clipboard, rifling around the desk for the pen that matches the cap she had once been chewing on. "Tomak, you said?"
"Could," Gage allows, with a quick smile that might have a hint of smugness to it, "But wouldn't be nearly as satisfying." That, together with his smile, might well indicate the outcome, at least as far as the marine is concerned. He bears up with grudging acceptance of her ministrations, apparently well used to the perfunctory treatment. It's when she steps back towards the clipboard that he follows her, a pace behind. "Aint much need to make a report, Hargrave. Barely a bruise." A brief pause, as his expression turns earnest. "I'll buy you a beer for your time, later." Totally not a bribe, nope.
"Challenge him to a drinking contest next time. I guarantee you won't give a frak who wins by the end." A few more files are slid around, but no pen reveals itself. When the Tauran makes the offer of buying a beer, Sarita straightens and turns to give Gage a long look. For a moment, it may perhaps come across that the Captain is about to reprimand him. In the end, however, she gives a small shake of her head. "I don't want to go hunting down a pen just for a nosebleed and I need to get to know my unit anyway." She removes the gloves, offering out a hand. "You have yourself a deal, Corporal."
"Aint gonna drink with the likes of him," comes Gage's brief growl, likely inadvertant judging by the grimace that soon follows. Taking a slow breath, he adds, "Not one to buy a beer on a whim," with the faintest of knowing smiles, particularly as she accepts his offer. He reaches out a hand to shake hers -- no macho bullshit, just an even pressure. "It's Tomak," he corrects, lightly. "The Wolves don't much stand on rank -- something that's got all those Capricans staying in BOQ all a tizzy." Something, to judge by his deepening smile, he quite enjoys.
Her own grip is fairly firm, but not overly so. A surgeon needs steady hands, after all. There's a faintly bemused smirk in response to that growl, but Sarita just gives a slight shake of her head, dropping the point. "It will take some time to adapt," she admits, with a slight shrug as her hand drops back to her pocket. "I served on a hospital ship prior to his assignment. The Colonel who oversaw things... rather stood on ceremony, as it were. A mixed unit such as this is rather unfamiliar to me, I must admit."
"Didn't take me long," Gage admits, with somewhat of a fleeting smile. "Makes things easier, especially when you could be bunking with a Captain or just as easily with a Private." He gives a brief shrug of shoulders. "There's something to it. It seems to work well, even troops from different colonies." His lips twist briefly, before he asks, "Any chance of an icepack to go?"
"Even when the colony they're from is Caprica?" Sarita can't help but grin faintly at that. "Right now I'm not bunking with anyone. I seem to have lucked out with my transfer and found myself in a room with no one else. Either I'm the odd woman out or they're waiting on someone else to show up. For the time being, I'm enjoying the extra space. I know that will all change once I'm on the Dauntless and find my bunk. I've heard it's rather... ah, mixed up there." At his request, she considers him before turning and moving to a cabinet to grab one of the ice packs often used in the field. It's tossed, easily, to the man.
Gage, right on cue, gives a grunt that undoubtedly confirms Sarita's probe on his feelings about Capricans. He eyeballs her momentarily, well aware of what she's doing, deliberately not responding on that bait. "Mostly," he allows. There's a few distinct 'pilots' and 'marine' bunkrooms, but there's mixtures here and there." Despite his black eye, his gaze and coordination is on point, snatching the ice pack from the air and giving her a nod of thanks as he presses it to one eye.
"But no medic bunkroom? However are we supposed to gab about all the stupid shit you lot do to yourselves?" Sarita tsks, locking up the cabinet behind her. "That's a damn shame. I'll have to mark a medic's table in the mess. We need somewhere to discuss the times you juggle knives or trip and fall naked onto things." Somehow, she delivers the last in a mild deadpan. "Well, Tomak. Until the unit is recalled to the Dauntless, I am on the same schedule as everyone else. Don't forget that beer and make me regret not filling out a report."
"Same way we do when we want to talk shit about air support showing up late enough to the party that we weather fire from a frakking tank -- go to our offices and do it there. I've seen you doctors, all gathered around," Gage circles his finger, "Some sickbed. Giving scores for the stupidest injuries, I bet." With a sudden grin, he says, "Sure thing, Hargrave. I'll come find you," he assures her, straightening from his slouch as he heads for the door, tossing that ice-pack briefly between his hands.