2237-11-04 - A Little Bit Of Bother

Gage visits sick bay. Happy day.

Date: 2237-11-04

Location: Sickbay

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1537

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The sickbay is about Gage's least favorite location on the ship. Even when he's injured, he spends as little time here as possible. His wounds being relatively minor by comparison to those who were medevac'd, he's had one of their medics dress either arm and his leg. He's dressed in off-duty uniform, hovering near the entrance for a moment before he slouches in, trying to look like he doesn't need attention and has somewhere to go, glancing in at those abed as he moves in.

Abigail, seems, for her part, entirely irritated that she's in sickbay at all. She has a record total of three light bandages, barely larger than band-aids. She was barely injured herself! So what if she has a concussion and some deep tissue bruising, she can still walk, damnit. But here she is, settled in a bed, flipping through a tablet. They're not even letting her read a magazine, damnit. Alas. But she had earphones as well, so she might not actually be needing to hold the tablet for much besides selecting her book of choice.

Although he doesn't linger, Gage does look in on each of his fellow squadmates -- Martinez first, then Arda and Westlake, then finally, with a slowing of pace, Walker. He folds arms across his chest, and slouches in place as he regards her -- maybe waiting for her to notice him, or not, perhaps -- since he's starting to turn away when he notes her attention focused on the tablet and whatever she's listening to.

"Don't think I don't see you there, Tomak." Abigail looks up from what she's swiping through, a hand reaching up to tug one of the earbuds out of her ears, "I heard you coming in from the hall, you have a particular cadence to your walk." She lifts the earbud, "I just keep them in so people think I'm busy and don't bother me. Glad to see you avoided being in here."

There's a brief scowl, that's perhaps only partially feigned -- the sickbay doesn't put the other combat engineer in the best of moods. "Weren't looking to bother. Just wanted to make sure you all weren't dead yet." Such sentimentality! "Just a few scratches," he reports of himself, despite the bandages. His weight shifts, like he wants to keep moving, but after a moment, he slouches over to stand beside her bed. "You seem fine," he adds, unnecessarily. "How're the others?" he jerks a thumb back towards their fellows.

"It's never a bother to see you, Tomak. If you can't spare a few minutes for your fellow engineer, where are you?" Abigail sets aside the tablet, though she moves with a bit of strain to put it down on the table beside the bed, as though straightening her arm hurt, "I think we're all surviving. I haven't heard much from the other two. They've been in and out of surgery a few times, I think. Mostly they've kept my curtains closed, so I've just had to guess at what's been going on. Oh me? I'm right as rain, just full of aches and pains. Few days I'll be back in the rotation. You'll see."

"Drinking," Gage supplies, far too quickly for it to be a falsehood, especially coupled with an unrepentant grin. It fades into another scowl at the news the others have been in surgery, scratching at his stubbled beard. Despite the dubious expression at Abigail's assertion she'll be back on roster in a few days, he doesn't voice it aloud. His expression probably says it all. "Aint much right, after that shitshow."

"Seems to be a theme for most of our time on this planet. I suppose some people just hate each other too much to put old enemies aside to fight a common one. A lot of arrogance going on on that planet." She lifts her shoulders in a light shrug, "But then, I suppose I have the luxury of being from Picon. And Micah's not much help. Well, I suppose he is. He's spent most of his life experiencing the hatred people have for Caprica, even if he's never done anything to them." A curious expression, as she studied Gage's face, "Not alone, I hope?"

"From all sides," Gage agrees without a pause, "Going back decades. Aint gonna fix their problems. Best just to get the frak out of dodge and somewhere where at least our allies won't try and frak us over." He sounds heated on that point -- not that that's too much of a surprise. No small surprise a Tauran wouldn't be a big fan of the Virgans. There's a lift of brows for her mention of Micah, the name unfamiliar to the Tauran. He shakes his head to the latter question, but doesn't elaborate. No surprise there either, more than likely.

"Exactly. They couldn't even stop killing each other long enough to push the cylons back." Abigail shakes her head, "Never made any sense to me. But all I can do is hope that we won't be here much longer, or I'll be forced to just find a way to carpet bomb the place and start from scratch." The tone of her voice isn't quite serious enough to make you think she'd actually do it, but...it's close, "We've been seeing each other for the last few months," she offers, in answer to the raise of the brow, but doesn't remain on that topic. Engineers tends not to talk about feelings to each other, "So can I ask you a question, Tomak? Why don't you just buy your own smokes?"

There's a shift of shoulders from Gage, dismissal, as if he doesn't really care; he still doesn't know the name, either way. "As long as he's not an asshole Caprican." Or a Caprican in general; the asshole is just habitual addition. The question earns surprise from the Tauran. "Why bother? Someone always has one." Maybe it really is just as simple as that.

"No, he's not an asshole. Well, I suppose we all are when we need to be." Such is life, not just in the military, "But that Caprican thing isn't going to go away." A curious expression, as she looks towards the man, "Well, maybe so that you can also offer other people a smoke if they need one?"

Gage's expression tightens, since he reads between the lines that his flippant guess is unfortunately on the mark. "No accounting for taste," is all he says, flatly, on that score. As for the latter, his brow furrows: "They can ask as well as I can." He clearly doesn't comprehend the line of questioning.

"I, personally, think I have great taste. He's quite a catch." Abigail seems nonplussed by the response, and seems more interested in the actual conversation at hand. "Yes, but then you'll never be the one to offer, just the one to take. Like you borrow from Davion all the time. What if he was out and he asked you, and you couldn't return the favour?"

"He'd never ask me, because he knows I don't have any." Gage seems to be growing increasingly irritated by the questioning, arms folding across his chest, expression not changing despite the tightening of bandages. "I always pay him back when we're on leave, and Davy's good with that. Why the frak does it matter to you?"

Abigail says, "Why is it that every time I ask you a question about something that I'm curious about that has to do with you, you start throwing a tantrum, Tomak? It doesn't matter to me, I was simply wondering why you do that." Abigail shakes her head, "Is getting to know people not a thing where you come from?""

"Aint no tantrum, you're just asking me a stupid question, Walker. I just do. Aint some secret meaning to it or none," Gage says, flatly. "And yes, it's not a thing where I'm from. You know I'm good at my job, what else frakking matters?"

"Except that you think every question that has anything to do with yourself is a stupid question. And it doesn't have to have some secret meaning, or be someone trying to get you to see the error of your ways, but you know what, I'll do you a solid and make sure never to ask you about anything that doesn't have to do with work ever again." A snort, "if nothing else mattered, then you wouldn't have a single friend on this ship, Tomak, and I know for a fact you have a few, so I'd say you know that answer better than I do."

There's a definite scowl, now, from Gage, at the other engineer's words. "Aint even sure why the frak I bothered to come here." He turns and slouches off out of the sickbay, without a backward glance.


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