Complaints about hospital food are universal.
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1539
Most of the time, Sickbay is not a hive of activity. It was busier than usual yesterday evening, when certain members of the teams on the surface arrived and spent some hours being shuttled between surgery and recovery, but it's quiet now. Very quiet.
The only thing keeping Noah from crawling out of his own skin is the amount of pain medication circulating through his system. He's never handled unengaged downtime well. Boredom wreaks havoc on his patience. He's currently too drowsy and fuzzy-headed to read, but too rested to fall asleep, and the net result is that he's spending most of his time staring up at the ceiling and trying not to lose his mind. A pair of earbuds emit tinny music on the pillow near to his head, stripped out for the time being.
Cate helped to tend to the influx of wounded last night until the doctors finally shooed her to an exam room to get herself taken care of. She escaped serious injury by some miracle, but got banged up pretty throughly. A few scrapes and bruises are visible on her face and hands when she appears in Noah's doorway and raps on the doorframe. Her CF-issue sweatpants and sweatshirt hoodie mark her as being off duty.
Slightly glassy hazel eyes drop from their upward angle to rest on the silhouette in the doorway. He has to squint slightly against the painkiller and the light of the hallway behind her, but he beckons in her in with one hand anyway -- distractions definitely welcome. "Rhodes." The medication has left him quiet, but he doesn't sound rough the way he did yesterday -- just drowsy. "They give you the green light, or are you stuck here too?"
"Yeah I'm okay," Cate assures him, stepping into the room when given the invitation. There's something tucked under her arm. With her free hand, she gestures towards her head. "Bitch of a headache. Ears still pissed. But I was lucky." When she comes closer to the bed she reveals the thing tucked under her arm. It's a BSG equivalent of a 'Popular Mechanics' sort of magazine, lifted from the lounge. "Thought you might be bored, so I brought you this. They giving you the good drugs?"
"Nnn. They should give you something for that." The headache, probably. He cocks a lazy brow as she hands him something, reaching for it, and after turning it right-side up he chuckles, the two shakes of his chest enough to end in his eyes tightening. Still sore. There are some things drugs just can't touch. "Yeah. It's better than the alternative, but I don't much like feeling this..." His gesture with the magazine means nothing. "Slow." Ever-so-carefully, he 'pats' his ribs with one splayed hand, roughly over the point at which he's been neatly sutured together. "I'll be back in it in no time. Hole doesn't look like much now that there's nothing sticking out of it."
"I got some aspirin," Cate says, though the slightly pinched look around her eyes suggests it's not entirely working. "Can't really complain though." Especially not to a guy who's all laid up in the infirmary. "I can't stand being in sickbay. Drives me nuts just laying there," she says with a note of sympathy. "You need anything else?"
"It's driving me nuts," Noah confirms, eyes lidding. He brings the hand on his uninjured side up to rub at his face, features slightly numbed by the painkillers keeping the rest of him comfortable. Her offer is interesting, though, and not one to be squandered. As his hand falls away, he considers the ceiling again, this time in an effort to weigh whether or not there are things he could get her to smuggle in. "Something other than gelatin..? I don't get the gelatin thing. I'm not nauseous. Why do they wanna feed me gelatin?"
"Well, sometimes it's not obvious that your stomach's touchy till you throw up all over everything, and that sucks ass when you've got stitches in your chest," Cate explains with a patient tiny hint of a smile. "So they like to play it safe. Gelatin's actually good for healing, easy to digest..." She catches herself and amends. "Blah blah I'm sure you don't actually care. I could maybe rustle up some ice cream?"
Perhaps predictably, when she starts to answer Noah's very rhetorical question about gelatin with actual information, his eyes lid and he tries for a flat expression. It's not as successful as it would be if he weren't obviously fuzzy around the edges. She catches on quickly enough, though, and the flat look relents, amused and then grateful by turns. "Now you're talking." He might have responded that way to just about anything other than what he's currently allowed to have. Still: it makes him easy enough to please. "You hear anything about Walker or Arda?"
"I'll see what I can do," Cate says with brief little smirk, which fades to a more somber expression. "Yeah, they'll be all right. Martinez too. We lost Sergeant Allen, and the other squad lost (some names she rattles off). Pretty shitty day, all around."
Some people didn't make it out. Noah takes that information in with equanimity. It's not the first time soldiers he's served with have died, but it was a bad, bad night. More casualties than usual. "Shit." He starts to sigh, then winces. Too soon.
The drowsiness comes and goes when he least expects it, and it arrives suddenly, a reminder that his body's working harder to heal than he knows. "Glad you're alright, anyway. Thanks for the assist out there." It's her job, but...still. He lifts the folded over magazine. "And for this. I'll be waiting for that ice cream, Rhodes. Don't forget."