[OPEN] The Doctor's In

[alabaster_erudite]

Who: Ratio and WHOEVER (open to all!)
What: Ratio has found the Medical Rooms while settling into his own room nearby, so he’s organizing the contents and familiarizing himself with the equipment there as well as doing a bit of clean up.
Where: R3 "Tomato" Deck, MEDICAL rooms
When: Day 6+
Warnings: medical shenanigans


On the forward suites of Deck R3, one of the doors is cracked open ever so slightly, and—

Early Bird Gets The Worm (early morning of Day 6)

Veritas was returning from his repeated excursion around the ship’s interior to familiarize himself with its surroundings. Admittedly, he had overexerted himself, having been so active on his first couple of days finding himself here in this strange ship. He felt his mind muddle and grow sluggish as his exhaustion caught up to him. He received his key card only a day after arriving, choosing to forgo sleep in favor of exploring the available levels of the ship for a multitude of reasons in all honesty.

But his body is only mere flesh. And he has to recuperate eventually.

So imagine his surprise when he finds a room starkly labeled “MEDICAL” next to his suite. His dull and aching mind races with possibilities, but alas, he has to rest or else he’d be of no use to himself much less anyone else with these new found resources at his disposal.

And with a short, dreamless slumber, he rises just as quickly as he falls into rest. Sleeping for only five hours if he was being generous. Four hours and 48 minutes to be exact if he had the system hours correct. But alas, he couldn’t fall back asleep so easily despite the fact it was too early in the morning to even see daylight yet.

Ah well, there’s no need to force himself to sleep if he can’t. He shrugs off the chill he feels run down his spine when he imagines sleeping long enough to dream. It’s not like he feels entirely comfortable with the thought of sleeping so indolently anyways. Not with his persistent malady of insomnia nor after the events of Penacony.

He gets up, rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to shake off the weariness that still clung to his bones. At least his mind feels sharper than it did before though still burdened by the pulsing pain of a mild headache. Not in perfect condition, but enough to get started on a.. new project to put it simply.

Veritas exits and shuts the door to his suite. Then makes a beeline to the Medical room. He almost wants to laud the ship’s foresight for putting him so close to the clinical facilities.

Without the haste that followed his footsteps into the makeshift clinic, he takes stock of amenities available with practiced ease. He quickly finds that his key card can open up cabinets to prescriptions, properly labeled with instructions attached, and can gain access to a synthesizer like device. From experimental tests, he realizes he can make specific scripts for personal use, like an oral triptan for severe, acute migraine treatment. Something to note for future use. He pops a pill into his mouth and moves to check the other features here. Perfect time as any to test out the efficacy and veracity of the functions here since he woke up with an early onset migraine just now. He’ll mentally note his before and after responses within an hour or two from now.

Proper bedding, check. Lack of curtains to maintain privacy, he’ll have to see if the supplies room on the lower deck could provide some extra blankets and ties for that. A desk and chair for record keeping, check. And as for the cabinets…

— shuffling noises rings out from within the room along with audible humph’s and ha’s as the doctor scrutinizes the contents of each container before reorganizing them into an order he sees fit, deep in thought and focused on the task at hand.

Familiar Respite (any day after Day 6)

Trips between his suite room and the Medical Room are becoming a habit now. Compared to when he first found them, it looks more put together and lived in to a degree. More often than not, Dr. Ratio could be found in the makeshift clinics on the Tomato Deck than in his own personal suite room, cataloguing inventory and making improvements he deemed necessary as he took stock of the facilities.

With time came experience in what was available and what wasn’t, which had a streamlined set of procedures in place looking for alternatives if the original resource was unobtainable. And with experience came familiarity and a semblance of peace as he found himself in his element amongst medicine cabinets and maintained sterility.

Sleep still didn’t come easy to the doctor. Not by a long shot. Though frankly speaking, it’s nowhere near as bad as the first day he came in here and started this passion project and necessity on behalf of the other passengers of the ship having known the risks of exploring uncharted territory where other powers reside.

His body had gotten used to the short sleep cycle his circadian rhythm had been set to, never falling into a sleep quite deep enough to have vivid dreams nor restful sleep. He coped with the occasional power nap in places where people wouldn’t interrupt but noticed they became too frequent to allow room for progress and thus picked up cups of coffee as a booster. He could make do with a timely dose of caffeine and maybe some combination analgesics to stave away the drowsiness and frequent headaches.

And that was more than enough to allow him to focus on the papers in front of him now. The inventory report was drafted up relatively easily, but he still had to make sure the patient charts would be easily maintained and organized for repeated use. High readability was important too. In case he couldn’t be there to help patients understand their own charts. While the ship could record a patient’s medical information and history within its data banks on their personal key card, Veritas is more than skeptical that the ship’s programing included a strict adherence of HIPPA and Principles of Medical Ethics within its code of hospitality towards passengers of a luxury cruise ship.

— it’s while he sits comfortably at the desk in a rolling chair with his legs crossed, pen and clipboard in hand, that the faint, hollow sound of a pen rapidly scratching over paper emanates from within the room. And if anyone strains their ears, they might hear the soft, low drone of the doctor humming a tune to himself.

Wildcard!

(hit me up on Discord if you have any other ideas in mind, I’m all ears)

Comments

Aventurine is unfortunately Ratio's problem | Late post

[aureliasharr]

As Ratio hums to himself, between the gaps in his unformed song, he begins to hear another voice expressing itself with music. A young woman's voice, with clear talent and rough polish. As it gets closer, he can begin to make out the lyrics of the lullaby the voice is carrying towards him

Birds are silent for the night

Cows turned in as daylight dies

But one soul lies anxious wide awake

Fearing all manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths

The voice continues to come closer, the verses of the lullaby repeated in one language after the next, almost whimsically, ending with a melancholy _eat you whole_ as a young woman slips through the half open door to the clinic, bright red eyes flicking up and across the room before alighting on ratio and brightening with recognition. She holds up a finger, going silent as she pushes the door open further and reaches around it to heft an unconscious man no taller than herself in gold and green up with _shocking_ strength for her slim frame. She holds him up, offering Ratio a fanged smile and calling out. "Do you recognize this man?"

Tired as heck and drained of emotion, he also knows he's the problem

[doomed_gambler]

Aventurine is essentially dead to the world as Aurelia carries him. This is somewhat of a rarity, as usually someone he doesn't know relocating him when he can't move has...alarming associations. But in this particular case, he's too exhausted in body and spirit to even notice, much less fight it. All in all, he's pretty comfortable as he sleeps.

There are...brief moments he drifts toward semi-awareness. But then there's...a voice nearby, singing. It's pretty... Something about it makes him blearily think he's a kid again, and his sister is singing a new song she'd heard from the traveling musicians as she carries him home for the day. That must be why he doesn't recognize the tune, right...?

Either way, it fills the silence with pretty sounds, which is automatically comforting to him. He quickly sinks back into sleep, never quite waking as he's being carried to who knows where.

Except suddenly he's being moved, hands under his armpits, swinging him down effortlessly and forward. He hums sleepily, trying to force heavy eyelids open.

Did someone ask him something...? Does he recognize....who...? He needs to look to figure it out...

He's dangling from something, feet off the floor. This should...alarm him. And yet he just feels tired...

Finally he manages to crack his eyes open, trying to bring the blurry world into focus on some level...there's...someone in the room...in front of him...his head kind of flops to the side as he works at this.

He catches the gold glimmer of a laurel clip on a blur of navy and white...ah. He smiles (or at least tries to...), an automatic reaction even if the usual amusement and affection are oddly absent.

"H'yyyy, Doc..." he manages, words slurred on a leaden tongue. He makes an attempt at a cheeky wave, but only manages to twitch his fingers. "How're...ya doin'...."

the doctor is in fact wondering how many problems he has to deal with at once here

[alabaster_erudite]

Veritas, humming a song to himself almost absentmindedly, halts his pen’s movement when he hears a haunting melody from beyond the door. His heart leaps to his throat for second as his grip on his pen and clipboard tightens. He keeps his expression even if not scrunched up slightly from scrutiny.

… For Aeons’ sake, did the Whispers pay him a visit just because he hummed himself a tune?

He gets up, tucking the pen and clipboard under his arm, and strides over to the door just in time to see a fanged, almost regal looking young woman in front of him with… a familiar figure in tow. She makes her way in, with Aventurine looking all but sedated and bleary eyed making greetings as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

He pushes down the spike of anxiety, worry, and urgency down in favor of observing the situation before him closely. One thing at a time, Veritas Ratio. And don't come to hasty conclusions.

Only then does he take stock of the eerie stillness and deathly pallor of the woman’s complexion, her white hair, and red eyes. Albinism? It helps that the lighting is relatively dim to not trigger photo-sensitivity or the like. She seems well enough to drag a man like Aventurine around — though even Veritas isn’t confident that such a feat will be hard knowing how light the man is.

"What seems to be the problem here?" He finally says, taking a step forward before extending a hand out.

"May I?" He looks from the mysterious woman he hasn’t had the chance of meeting yet on the ship to Aventurine who no doubt pushed himself too far while he wasn’t looking, offering his assistance to help carry or lead to two into the clinic to get more situated.

Re: Probably only one! (It's two)

[aureliasharr]

Aurelia shakes her head, lifting the sedate man with no more difficulty than a particularly ill-shaped bag of potatoes and carrying him over to the nearest bed. Laying him out on it with practiced care before turning back to ratio and taking a deep breath, red eyes fixed on his Aura and reading... a collection of greens and seeds of blooming reds, fear and anger? Aventurine really must be important to him.

She blinks, realizing that she'd taken a deep breath in then forgotten to exhale while lost in thought, and that with the burning in her veins her body has begun unconscious movements. Swaying and bouncing side to side, brimming with energy. She forces herself to be still and quenches the sudden surge of anger brimming up from her pool of Aventurine's thoughts. Control. Make a report.

"Patient was wandering the lower levels when I encountered him, suffering from sever hallucinations and a psychotic break resulting in heightened adrenal levels. I attempted aid. Subject has no external injuries but given his swift collapse upon resolution of his 'visions' and his behavior after being offered food and having his excess Fear removed I suspect he's suffering from starvation and sleep deprivation." She tilts her head, glancing at the man's clothing once more before looking back to Ratio. "Possibly self inflicted, unless this strange location has functioning medical facilities but no safe place to rest or food stores"

She loses herself in thought for a second, trying to untangle a complex knot of colored threads just behind her eyes. Aventurine is far too good at evoking emotion. She blinks back, looking at Ratio again and consulting her stolen fragments of memory. "I believe you are somewhat important to him no? Or perhaps vice versa."

Familiar Respite - Day 7

[paladinforhire]

Fridtjof hasn't been to the clinic in a few days, and he feels like it's almost his responsibility as one of the few (the only?) healers on the boat. He's somewhat surprised to see a hyur(?) sitting there with a pen and clipboard in hand.

... He probably looks a little weird, considering. Still, he just blinks and shakes his head. "Looks like I'm not the only one interested in this place." His accent would be Icelandic, if it were from Earth - but neither of them know that place (probably) so it's fine.

rabbits do exist in hsr i just thought pom-pom was funnier

[alabaster_erudite]

Veritas pauses his writing and glances up. Indeed, it is a strange sight to see, but he’s quick to adjust. There are animal eared humanoid species he’s familiar with. The Foxians for one. Though… he does wonder why he’s reminded of the Astral Express conductor when he looks at him.

That’s not relevant to the matter at hand. He pushes the thought away out of embarrassment for that one thought of unprofessionalism and turns in his chair to face him.

"No, you’re not evidently." He sets aside the pen and clipboard on to the desk in favor of his mug of cooled coffee. "So is your interest here because you’re a patient in need of some assistance? Or is it because you are also interested in operating within this area?" Admittedly, Veritas is keen on the prospect of having others help upkeep this place. The more hands the better.

[paladinforhire]

Meanwhile to him, Veritas just looks like another Hyur. There's so many in this place... he's been plenty of places where they're a dominant race, it's just that the percentage is off... oh well. He folds his arms a little and smiles, gesturing with his head towards the cane on his back.

"I'm guessing you're not from my world then, or you would likely have recognized a conjurer's staff." Sure he's a White Mage, but that's just a conjurer with advanced knowledge and connections in his opinion. It makes him more powerful yes, but it doesn't make him better. "Which are one of the types of healers of my world. Those who heal with magic, rather than those who fix with cutting and potions." Please don't ask him to do alchemy, he's... not all that good.

He takes a few steps inside and glances around - it looks largely the same. There's more papers, but that's fine. If someone wants to take inventory of all of this then he's all right with that. "Though I've learned magic does not exist in every world." He's not even going to begin to go into what aether is, not right now.

when ratio's spiel comes with links for sourcing, sorry

[alabaster_erudite]

"It seems not." He looks at the staff with mild interest. Healing with magic? For a moment, an image of Yaoshi flashes in his mind.

He stands up from his seat, setting aside the inventory report he was beginning to draft up for the supplies here. "Healing with magic you say? Are there any… side effects to it?" He crosses his arms.

"My apologies for the assumption, but while I myself am not personally familiar with magic," he doesn’t consider the abilities he gained from being a Pathstrider to be as mystical as the healing the long earred man puts it, "there is something similar in my world that comes with its own boons and banes. We call it the Abundance."

"Those who tread on the path of Abundance are the closest to what you described as healers there, using all sorts of ways to heal people, whether its through magical means, or through surgical and medicinal means as you mentioned earlier." Fix with cutting is certainly a turn of phrase though.

"However, the Abundance and its aeon, its god, seeks to prolong life by any means necessary." He sighs at the thought, slightly rueful. "Even if it means condemning some to a fate worse than death. So excuse me for the premise, but I do have to ask given the circumstances I came from." He's more than happy to accept help, even help with some risk since there is no such thing as a risk free course of action, but he has to know what he's working with first. Though half is well intended risk management for patients as a doctor and the other half is genuine curiosity as a scholar.

Worm posting (Day 6)

[doomed_gambler]

For once, Aventurine wakes up feeling rather refreshed. Still a little groggy, but a vast improvement from jolting up in bed in a cold sweat. His memory of yesterday is...fuzzy. But he remembers finding Ratio of all people on this ship, and uh...making a mess of trying to help. Which ended up with him on the ground and Ratio having to pick him up and drag him back to his own room. He huffs, rubbing at his eyes. So much for trying to help...he owes Ratio for that.

Because after being dropped off, for the first time since the Amusement Park, Aventurine'd slept with minimal nightmares. He actually slept. He's...not sure how it worked, but he's grateful.

So that's why he gets out of bed with a stretch and a yawn, resolved to go pay off that particular debt somehow. He gets ready, then heads to...huh.

Where would the good Doctor be right now?

...Well, the little clinic on the lower floor is a good start. He heads there, and sure enough! He thinks he can hear Ratio typical muttering on the other side of the door.

Aventurine should probably knock. He throws the door open instead, spreading his arms wide. "Morning Doc! Well, afternoon, I guess," he chirps, probably a bit too loud for the migraine he doesn't know Ratio's nursing. He looks over the messy area, giving a low whistle. "Woooow you got your work cut out for you. Have you eaten yet? I could go grab something for us so you don't have to stop...well." He gestures to the room.

the worm in question

[alabaster_erudite]

To the medicine’s credit, Veritas doesn’t flinch when he hears to door slam and a certain gambler’s noisy voice. Looks like it does work as it intended. With mild effects since what would have been a normal migraine attack simpered down into a slight but barely noticeable pulse of pain when he focuses on it. Though he’s not sure how applicable it will be to other migraine cases since his own is a fairly typical presentation minus the boat’s environment. He'll have to test them out later.

He sets the containers back into the cabinets before looking over to Aventurine, tilting his head slightly inquisitively. "It’s afternoon already?…" He ponders openly but mainly to himself. He hadn’t notice that much time passed by… He should have with the windows letting in natural light, making what looks to be a traditional day night cycle. He furrows his brows.

"It seems so," he sighs, turning to face the man now. "Are you feeling any better?" He remembers the state Aventurine was in last he left him in his room to recuperate after borrowing the rooms amenities. Speaking of which, he should replace those toiletries later for Aventurine…

He nods at Aventurine’s suggestion at getting food. "It would be good for you to get some food in your system. I can get food on my own, but I won’t turn down the offer."

It's worm wrangling time, I see!

[doomed_gambler]

Aventurine waits patiently as Ratio sets his things where they're needed. Ratio's surprise at the time however...that does get some raised eyebrows. Dr. 'you're 6 system minutes and 42 seconds late' Ratio lost track of time? Interesting...

This is what makes Aventurine take more steps into the room for a closer look at the doctor when he turns to face him,

....looks fine enough just...he's not sure he's seen Ratio this tired (and a little bit flushed...?) in a good while; since his last big project, really. Huh. At Ratio's check-in question, he laughs. "Me? I feel much better, many thanks!" He pauses, sobering just a little. "Okay, I'm still kinda tired and achey, but that's still much better than yesterday, I will say," he admits, figuring some continued honesty would help repay...all Ratio did to help him out. It's the least he can do.

He tilts his head, curious. "What about you? Was the shower to your liking?" He hesitates before this next one. "....did you sleep at all since?" Because it kinda looks like Ratio hadn't, and it's starting to bug the gambler.

Aventurine grins at the allowance for getting food for the both of them. Which he will do. Once he gets more information on Ratio's state.

good luck

[alabaster_erudite]

"That’s good to hear." Warmth follows his voice as he sincerely says that. It’s quiet. But it doesn’t betray the content look on his face when he hears that. After all, Aventurine was quick to deflect and reject treatment and therefore any signs of weakness until he had no other choice. Veritas didn’t find him to be his usual student nor a good patient even on good days, so this was a pleasant surprise.

He takes one look over at Aventurine. He can see how honesty drapes over his limbs awkwardly, causing him to pause when normally his words flow smoothly and freely. But it’s an honest effort he applauds.

"The shower was nice. I’ll come back to replace what I used later." He absentmindedly answers, now drifting back to the cabinets and rummaging through prescriptions. It’s been hours since his migraine medication testing. Now he’s looking for another medication to try out that’s not contraindicated for what he just tried.

Migraine medication can typically be prescribed with an anti-emetic. Those he can’t take too early before having onset symptoms, and while he does suffer from migraine attacks, it’s not to the point of nausea unless he was truly overwhelmed. He wasn’t nauseous now, but… he certainly could be later. He has been warned by Childe that migraines are common in certain areas after a few hours. He hums in affirmation to himself as he formulates a plan. While he’s at it, he can bring a few over the counter medication to use and test as needed.

Before addressing Aventurine, he takes some toilet paper all suite rooms were equipped with, including this repurposed one, and folds up the paper to make a little envelope and dispenses the pills he selected and reviewed into them. He pockets them before turning back to Aventurine.

"I slept." He simply says. "It’s difficult to sleep comfortably outside of your own bed, but it would be foolhardy to not make an effort." And he did make the effort. His shoulders slump slightly as he softly sighs to himself, crossing his arms. "And then I came here after waking. Satisfied, gambler?"

post-day 6, nighttime sometime

[screwubbaboo]

Boothill's robotic anatomy doesn't require a lot of sleep. He'll catch a few winks every now and then when his brain needs some rest, but the dreams he has make sure that he doesn't spend a lot of time sleeping recreationally, so to speak. Anyway, staying in his room all night leaves him bored and a bored Boothill is not a good thing, so he's doing his best to stay entertained.

Which tonight means he's going around and jiggling door handles to see if they're unlocked and checking the rooms that aren't. When he opens the clinic door he pokes his head in - he didn't miss the humming, so he's pretty sure someone's in here, he's just curious about who and what the room is.

Boothill's seen makeshift clinics before, so the purpose of the room is pretty obvious. Not any use to him, really, but good to know. He tips his hat to the doctor, who looks pretty busy. "Sorry to interrupt ya. Just takin' a look around, don't mind me."

Re: post-day 6, nighttime sometime

[alabaster_erudite]

Should Veritas be up this late at night? Probably not. But he wasn’t fond of fitful tossing and turning in an attempt to force himself back to slumber when he knows his body nor mind would cooperate. So alas, he returns to the clinic, making late night adjustments to the paperwork and inventory here. He is not nursing a cup of coffee at this time of night, that would be foolish.

He distinctly hears the noise of juggling door handles before it makes it to his room, but he pays it no heed, assuming its the trick of the apparitions. If worst comes to worst, he’d handle it then, but for now he had settled himself here within this clinic for the night and he shall stay until proven otherwise.

He hears the twang and drawl of a gruff but admittedly polite man. More interestingly, followed by the distinct robotic filter phasing his words out. Is that a Synesthesia Beacon at work? Or is it just how an inorganic life-form from another world, another universe, another dimension sounded?

"I won’t." He responds, glancing briefly away from his work before returning to it, not pausing his writing. Ah, a familiar face this time. And not from his knowledge of the ship’s passengers no, but from an IPC wanted poster. Not that it matters here of all places, he supposes. "But don’t hesitate to come to the clinic just because you don’t have flesh to treat. We’ll make repairs and maintenance checks here if necessary." He does have an engineering background he can put to use here for less organic patients. He'll have to scour around for some tools and parts though... Something he can work on later then just in case. Now he's lost in thought about the logistics and implementation of treating someone with a mechanical body given the circumstances.

[screwubbaboo]

"Good to know. I can handle most routine maintenance myself, but when it comes to the complicated sugar I sometimes need extra hands." There's something vaguely familiar about the doctor, but not enough to ring any specific bells in Boothill's head, so he lets it go for now. Since the doc doesn't seem to mind his presence too much he comes inside to look around the clinic and familiarize himself with the contents. Always good to know what resources you have on hand. Speaking of which...

"Hey, you happen to have any rubber tubing around I could borrow?" Not that he'd be giving it back but 'borrow' sounds better than 'steal'. He has a little project in mind and a doctor's office seems like a place that might have a couple of things he'd need.

[alabaster_erudite]

Complex sugar? He’s never quite heard such a turn of phrase nor does he see how polysaccharides are relevant to mechanical maintenance. But he lets that slide in favor of the inquiry he’s been presented.

"There are no rubber tubing here sadly. These Medical rooms are nothing more than repurposed suite rooms turned over-glorified school infirmary. There are prescriptions and first aid options, but no medical equipment or diagnostic tools at hand. And certainly no catheters available as an equivalent." He sighs, reciting the knowledge he’s gathered from his own written inventory report while flippantly thumbing through the pages on his clipboard. Better than nothing he supposes, but an accurate assessment of the situation and his own limitations at hand.

He sets his clipboard down before pondering on other alternatives. "There’s no such thing here. But I do recall some tubing available in the storage rooms on deck R2." He gets up from his seat, arms crossed as the infamous Galaxy Ranger looks around. "They’re vacuum tubes however. Will that suffice?"

MUSRHOOMS

[mamamias]

Mario knocks on the clinic's door, then pokes his head in.

"Um. Hello? I guess there's a doctor in here now. I was-a just... Well, I didn't know if Ship had given you any of these? They're-a pretty useful, so..."

In his hand he is holding a red mushroom with white spots. It's plump and round and friendly. He seems nervous - but entirely serious.

ratio stays silly

[alabaster_erudite]

"Yes, I am a medical doctor, so I am capable if not at least willing to help whoever needs my assistance." He responds without looking up from his writing. He finishes up the last bit of the inventory report before looking up to see who was speaking to him.

He admits, he took a second to pause at the appearance of the person at the door. Hanu? From the Penacony cartoons?

Rather than the tough and gruff look Hanu had though, this person was more, rounded and homely looking. Between a suit and what looks like blue collar garbs, this figure was a lot more approachable, more analogous to Clockie perhaps.

It’s rude to stare though, Veritas. So he quickly regains his wits, and gets up to meet the man at the door to inspect the said item brought over.

"I have not seen this particular product from the ship yet. Would you mind enlightening me on what it is and does, mister..?" A mushroom, Veritas is sure he could analyze and extract some natural compounds from it to synthesize some useful antibiotics and such if he had the equipment for it. The synthesizer was made to create such substances, not isolate and measure them. So more… rudimentary methods would have to be used to test things out quite frankly. Which he is never opposed to.

[mamamias]

"Oh! Sorry. My name's-a Mario! Nice to meet you!" He'd offer a hand to shake, but he's too busy offering the mushroom, since the doctor hasn't taken it yet. "It's okay! It's-a not gonna bite." His smile is wide, eyes crinkling with his joke.

"It's-a meant to restore your HP- er- your health?" Don't say health points, Mario, that's a Mushroom Kingdom term, and you know it. "If you get hurt, a mushroom will-a fix you right up! At least-a most of the way, anyway. It's magic, but it's not a miracle. The ones that bring you back from near-death are expensive, so I don't have any with me. But I never leave home without a few mushrooms! You never know when you're gonna miss a jump and want a health refill for your aching knees. Or when some scrub is gonna pick a fight with you, and you-a don't want to show up to your date with a black eye!" Hopefully this is parseable, he keeps slipping into terms that mostly only make sense to people back home.

"It's-a also pretty good at curing poison... Or at least, the poison we have back home? I haven't-a tried it against any other poisons, haha!" To someone who doesn't know Mario's world, this might sound like he's implying he deliberately poisoned himself to check before. Whoops!

Package delivery!! Here's a Duke

[sanktawithashotgun]

It takes about 46 Terran minutes ((for my own sanity it's just normal minutes)) to reach the clinic with Mr. Wriothesley in tow. The man is not exactly light, and Executor himself is...not in top condition. The pain in his chest only compounds as he walks, becoming harder to work through. The missing piece from his wings also affects his balance, leaving him to use the wall for support more than once. There is also...a dizziness striking with increasing frequency. Troubling.

It is his duty to tend to the injured, however, especially injured by his hands, his gun. Mr. Wriothesley is an excellent fighter and...a good man. A good ally. He must ensure his full recovery. Executor is meant to protect the passengers in his time here, and getting Mr. Wriothesley medical assistance is top priority.

He's worked through worse.

This is...about the state he's in as he knocks upon the door, measured knocks in opposition to the ragged quality of his voice and haggard breathing. He leans on the wall again. "Doctor Ratio...I have. I have a wounded passenger. Requesting...immediate medical assistance."

there's two packages in here sir (again)

[alabaster_erudite]

At the sound of the knock, the labored breathing, and hoarse voice, Veritas, fueled by a sense of urgency, pulls the door open. He makes a grave face at the sight he sees. Already, he can deduce that Executor Federico who he had the fortune of getting acquainted with and Wriothesley who he’s only heard by name only from Neuvillette had somehow wound up in an altercation it seems.

He can see the tell tale signs of frost on Federico’s clothes, no doubt from the "cryo" powers mentioned by the Chief Justice — it wasn’t hard to connect the dots the cryo could have derived from cryokinesis suggesting manipulation of ice. It’s difficult to see in the tinted natural lighting of this underwateresque weather they found themselves in the last couple of days, but he thinks he sees how uneven Federico’s black wings look and the crumpled posture of Federico’s usual ramrod straight bearing too, leaning against the wall for support.

He then looks over at Wriothesley being carried and the arm being secured by the distinct red scarf worn by the Executor carrying him which is coincidentally missing on his person. So an arm or shoulder injury he surmises. Unconscious… he’ll have to check for a concussion if force was needed to neutralize whatever happened here. With the lack of equipment here, he can only do simple triaging, and that meant focusing on the unconscious man on Federico’s shoulders first.

Veritas is quick to lend his assistance in moving the unconscious man to an empty bed before wheeling a chair over and drawing the blinds around the whole perimeter of the cot. "Executor Federico, sit down. I will need you to explain the extent of what happened." He instructs with an undeniable tone of no nonsense. He won't entertain whatever happened outside to have caused this here in the clinic. He conjures a white light at the tip of his finger before checking Wriothesley’s pupils. Excellent. There’s no brain bleed. That’s one scare down. Now he’ll have to crosscheck the severity of the injuries with Federico’s account while checking the sankta’s mental status through his recall ability. He always pride himself for his multitasking skills. It’s a good thing they’re coming to play in such an emergency now.

Well time to get the receipt I suppose

[sanktawithashotgun]

Always admirably efficient, Dr. Ratio immediately assesses the damage as soon as he lays eyes on the both of them. Executor feels something like relief sweeping through him as the Doctor ushers them both in and immediately gets to work. He's a bit dizzy with it, actually...a part of him was concerned the man could be absent for one reason or another.

The weight of Mr. Wriothesley is removed from his shoulders and to the cot, and he staggers. Right...he shall deliver a repor--

Curtains are drawn, a chair rolled in. He receives strict orders to sit before reporting. Right. Yes. Of course. "Yes, Doctor," he breathes, half sitting half falling into the offered chair. This...does help.

"I...will report to the best of my ability," he says, a little less winded now that he doesn't have to exert as much energy to remain upright. He watches Mr. Wriothesley's eyes get examined, and nothing particularly abnormal happens, so that...that is good.

"Approximately 52 minutes ago, I encountered Mr. Wriothesley in the cafeteria. He was--watching for something out the window-" there's a small pained noise as Executor attempts to right his posture for his report, and fails. Nothing for it. He allows himself to slouch to accommodate for his injuries and compromised balance. "I do not know if he saw something in the waters that triggered the following actions." He pauses. "Based on this, I recommend keeping him from viewing the waters until more information is gathered."

But the Doctor did not ask for his thoughts on the matter. He ordered an explanation, a report. Executor takes a breath, pressing fingers against his temple for a moment to quell the buzzing from his halo and...everything. Too many inputs. He must manage them.

"Conversation seemed normal at first. However, Mr. Wriothesley grew increasingly agitated as we spoke. He insisted I'd...'sold him out to the cops'--I do not know the term "cop" but I am assuming it is a higher authority of some sort-- and I could not convince him otherwise. I still do not know of what occurrence he spoke of. I have no means of contacting any persons outside this vessel." His gaze lingers on Mr. Wriothesley's prone form as he speaks, brows furrowing with the leftover confusion, even...distress? He brushes that aside. "He demanded that I command the...cops to stand down. I had no means or information to facilitate that. From there, he...seemed to believe he had no other option but to use violence. I had to neutralize him, then I brought him here for medical attention."

While his posture is awful, Executor seems to settle into 'report mode' with ease. He looks to Dr. Ratio. "You have seen my Arts I use as bullets. I fired upon Mr. Wriothesley two times," he says, holding a hand over the other's shoulder. "Once to disable his hand to hand attacks, and another," he moves his hand to the leg, "to stop him from running and causing more damage to himself or others. I used the brunt of my gun to impact with his temple, causing him to go unconscious." Executor pauses. "He...has not regained consciousness since. Perhaps...it is a symptom of what addled his mind in the first place. Some strange form of Arts...?"

Executor catches himself wondering again, and he shakes himself, sitting up a little straighter. The room keeps tilting...and he's started to shiver a little. Does the Doctor keep a low temperature in here...? "I took two hits from Mr. Wriothesley's gauntlet. Here," he holds a hand to the likely forming bruise along his jaw, "and here," he gestures to his right shoulder area. "I impacted with the window, breaking off a part of my wing. I have retrieved the pieces. All other injuries to my person are...minor cuts and bruises." His hands drop back to his lap, and he looks back to the man on the cot. "Mr. Wriothesley's injuries are likely more...severe. Especially if he has been influenced mentally somehow..."

All information he thought pertinent delivered, his wings droop a little. "I...did attempt to settle this non-violently, Doctor. I apologize."

Familiar Respite

[harmoniousconsecration]

Sunday spent a day or two mulling the idea over. Not quite mulling, really. Agonizing. He also wished to give himself time to settle in before jumping right into demanding why his memories were so disorderly and confusing. Unfortunately, in the absence of medical advice, worries about the state of his mind and brain were beginning to take root, and had become difficult to shake.

One evening, after the cafeteria closes, Sunday makes his way to the clinic. He's in a much better state than before, his clothes and body thoroughly cleaned of the filth he'd gotten doused in. He was not quite as pristine as he wished to be, but this was a difficult set of circumstances, and the Ship was ill prepared for one such as him.

He figures this is a reasonable hour, giving the other man a fair chance to eat and do as he needs to. He can only imagine how busy he might be when everyone isn't beginning to settle in for the night. Sunday knocks on the clinic door before entering, and then some more as he opens the door, totalling seven.

The halovian glances around the room--- it was rather organized, he must say. In much better shape than the rooms around the rest of the ship. The Doctor must have been hard at work to keep it this way. He can appreciate a good, sterile environment.

Sunday notices the man in a chair, as well as the soft sound of his humming and the scratch of a pen against paper. He wonders if now was a good time-- perhaps when he wasn't in the middle of taking notes, or stock, or. Whatever he might be writing down.

No, he needed this. If only to quiet the voice in his head telling him he had a massive brain injury and was going to die every time he got a whiff of a migraine.

"Doctor? I hope I am not intruding."

get caught idiot (affectionate)

[alabaster_erudite]

Veritas is humming a song as Sunday enters. Whatever song it is has the doctor so caught up in its melody that a few of the lyrics slip past his lips, barely noticing the incessant knocking at the door.

Watching stars, as we drift on by
A touch
a glance
fly away~

Veritas startles when he hears Sunday’s voice greet him, hitting his knee against the desk. His head sharply turns towards the source to see the clean pressed, if not slightly faded suited halovian gentleman at the door. His wide eyes blink at him as his mouth falls open, face the picture of mortification before he turns away and clears his throat noisily.

"N-no, ahem." He collects himself, pressing his fist into his forehead out of sight before turning back with a stoic face. "No, you’re not intruding. Come in." He calms his racing heart and smooths out signs of embarrassment on his face for a stunning image of professionalism. He gives Sunday a quick one over. He presents no other visible mechanism of injury on his person that he can see nor does he particularly urgent or distressed.

"Have you come to follow up on what we discussed earlier?" He quickly concludes with Sunday’s appearance in the clinic.

He gestures over to the bedside adjacent to him. "Please, have a seat."

Veritas is relieved when his voice comes out even and steady. Good. It’s as if that didn’t just happen. Miss Robin was a talented singer, there was a reason she was a famous interastral superstar, he reasoned. He could be forgiven for finding her songs riveting. Besides, how could he forget a song that guided him from his waking slumber and brought him peace?…

He runs his hands through his hair, brushing it behind his ears and shaking off the embarrassment. … Too bad his ears are still red from earlier.

"Any new symptoms that have appeared since we last spoken, Mr. Sunday?"

[harmoniousconsecration]

The song is... It feels like he's heard it before. Sunday can't quite place it, but does not judge, often losing his own thoughts to prayerhymns and choirverses. However, Ratio seems to startle, when Sunday enters and calls out to him. The horror on his face as he realizes he's been caught in a more personal moment.

Sunday casts his gaze away sharply, turning and covering his eyes with his wings, offering Ratio a moment to compose himself. When Ratio clears his throat and welcomes him in, Sunday lowers his wings, letting them rest.

"I apologize, I did not wish to put you in such a situation."

The halovian sits on the bed as instructed, hands folded neatly in his lap. From this height, he can tell that Ratio's ears are red. He's still embarrassed. Sunday thinks little of it, willing to set it aside. Still, his mind wrestles with the song. Where had he heard it before?

"I did wish to follow up, yes. I have... a basic approximation of the series of events, but there are still details missing."

Sunday is sure they would come in time, but... He would like to rule out any glaring worries regarding his brain function, first.

"No new symptoms, as far as I can tell. I have been piecing things together slowly, but it feels very much like trying to wade through mud. Though I do find that my halo's frequencies do not seem to mesh well with the frequencies of Federico's." After a moment, he adds, "Likely not related to my lapses in more recent memory, of course."