Log:The Road to Recovery: Of Nym, Brass, and Spoiled Fun

The Road to Recovery: Of Nym, Brass, and Spoiled Fun

Location: Medical Lab, D'qar
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm, Sesti Gath, Nym Landala, Sar Yavok

Medical Lab - Resistance Base,

This medical facility is an averaged sized room with a total of twelve medical beds that can be retracted into the dark metal walls when they're use is not needed. Each medical bed has a station beside it for the doctors to monitor their patients and tend to the wounds that they may be suffering from.

The floor of the room is a dark hard polished stone that is in fairly good shape as the base itself isn't that old. Small circular spotlights are the primary source of lighting in the room as they shine down over each med bed station and can be adjusted in brightness levels by the console aside each bed.

On the wall opposite of the room's entrance there is a large glass wall that has a doorway leading into a room with two Bacta Tanks where severely injured personnel can be tended to.

'The Major' had fallen. The woman whose reputation preceded her arrival on base, rumors muttered about by equally old dogs and their offspring. The woman who Leia herself had testified as being one of the fiercest fighters she's ever known...Ambrosia Greystorm.

Lying in her place here in the medbay is someone else, or so first impressions may deceive. The deepset frown lines are relaxed, brow and lips placid in state of drug-induced repose. Mane of spindled silver and gold is free from its usual prison of braids and has been combed neatly over her shoulders, part meticulously split into even halves by some caring/daring individual.

Her eyes are open, watching a little holographic display play out in her lap as she lounges in bed, propped up and 'comfortable'. For those who don't know any better, she may as well be someone's aunt or mother, suffering from a lapse of health during visitation. Those who don't know any better probably wouldn't take note of the restraints holding her ankles to the bed, either. Or the armed guard lurking nearby...just strolling through...

But Ambrosia's hands are free. One of them reaches to a side table for a sip of yellow juice.

Nym has often been to the Medlabs since Sullust. Not for herself, but to visit Hex and to check in on the Major. The young, short pilot enters the room a bit nervously. It wasn't only Leia and the other ground soldiers that was nervous in Ambrosia Greystorm's presence. However, she is Jax's mother, so some of the stories must be exaggerations. Right?

She had heard that Ambrosia has been a difficult patient, however, she is surprised to see the restraints. Also the relaxed expression. It's like seeing a caged lion. On drugs. Her eyebrows raise quite a bit at seeing that. "H-hey--" Her voice is a bit higher pitched and then she clears her throat, trying again. "Hi Major. Hope you don't mind the interruption? I just thought I'd come and say a hello."

The drugged lion isn't coordinated enough to maul anything, but that doesn't stop her from tracking bodies in motion with a sly turn of her eye...and it doesn't require even that to take note of the squeak.

"It's for your protection, Nym," Answers the bound woman, harmlessly enough. A dubious dip of her brow towards the guard speaks volumes about Ambrosia's thoughts on the matter. "As well as mine. So they tell me." The brow goes back up, mirrored by a ghost of a smile. "Don't be afraid. Come. Sit. Sabacc?" She rotates the device in her lap by a few degrees. "Kort recorded some of the more wager-worthy tournies over the years. Mixed it into a few old vids of the kids and such. Poor old bastard's bought into their nerfshite data and figures he ought to jog my memory," she chuckles quietly and lifts the straw to her lips.

• Slurp* "I'm not so scrambled. How's life on the outside?"

"My protection?" Nym's eyes widen a bit before she realizes that this is a quip. She thinks. The pilot moves toward a chair when invited in. "I heard you were a model patient," she lies, with a smile. The offer to play Sabacc is met with a nod. "I'm terrible, maybe beating me at the game soundly may cheer you up."

As the device is swiveled for her to see, she leans forward just enough to take a look and smiles at the pictures it brings up. "Are they saying you're not remembering things?" she asks, unaware that was a side effect. It's an innocent question - or so she thinks. "I wouldn't have pegged you for being scrambled." The question about the outside is met with a smile. "Oh, you know. Cloudy. Quiet for the moment. I guess after everything that happened, the General decided we should take a bit of a breather."

"I always lost, myself," Ambrosia rolls her eyes at the gaming playing out. Year 1090, according to the little running timestamp in the image's corner. "If I'd won...I don't suppose Jax would be gracing the galaxy with his 'wisdom'." A smirk, a trace of her old self. But it, too, is fading back into the realm of neutrality. A stubborn jaw tenses behind closed lips and she pretends to actually watch the deck as it's dealt back to the hazy figures at play.

"Cloudy, huh? Well that makes two of us." Maybe just a /little/ scrambled. A mildly trembling hand sets the sippy cup back to rest on the table. "Little rain never hurt. I'd advise the General to let our boys and girls play in it." There's a little glint of sharpness flashing in her eyes as she regards Nym anew. "How are things...really? You know what it's like trying to wheedle an update from these damn droids? And don't get me started on medical personnel. One or two waking dreams and they think I'm not stable enough to handle a little news. Least they could do is slide a report my way. Sullust - we get /any/ intel?"

So maybe the invitation to watch Sabacc was bait, if the conversation's taken a switch. The holo recording is also fizzing into a switch. A younger Kort Garret's voice struggles to speak over his own giggles as a tot-aged Jax stares up into the device eternalizing this adorable image of him. "What...how did it get in mommy's tummy?" The grown man snickers at the child. Grinning with a finger in his mouth, Jax points to something /almost/ off screen. There's a mound of flesh protruding in. "She ate--"

And now there's nothing, but Ambrosia Greystorm's fist, enclosing the little player and deactivating the feed. Stony silence.

"Then, this certainly could be her first." The mention of losing a sabacc game leading to Jax is one that the pilot gleans onto. Nym does like stories such as these. Especially when they involve one of her squad mates. Her eyes drift between the screen and Amber as the images flicker by. "I always liked playing in the rain," she confirms. Of course, on Naboo there was quite a bit of it.

As for how things are really, she shrugs a bit, eyes turning to focus on the deck. "It's...people are getting better. The whole thing knocked us for a bit of a loop." For reports or information, she shakes her head. "I don't really know, to be honest," she sighs. She's just a pilot. And it's unclear if she simple isn't saying. "Master Sergeant DeLong made it out."

Since she's focusing there instead of at Amber, she sees the tiny, adorable Jax and Nym can't help put cover her grin with a hand. It's cute. And she assumes that what he must be talking about is another of Amber's pregnancies. The deck shuts and she blinks, surprised for a moment before looking over at Amber.

Hardened, emerald eyes are staring back, just waiting to meet the little pilot's returned focus. Muscles twitch at the corners of her glare. Facial tic, perhaps. Angry nerves struggling to map new connections in her Oxygen-starved brain. Death's funny, that way.

Just when it seems the lioness may pounce, she lets her gaze drop into the thing held a little more gently now in her hand. "Aora. Next to the bread...that's where you buy babies before devouring them like groceries, according to my ace pilot of a son." The twitch happens again, but this time it plays upon her lips. "We weren't in a hurry to correct his theory on the subject."

Wetting her lips with a quick sweep of her tongue, Ambrosia folds it back into safe keeping. "I've seen DeLong. I remember the call that he was

When Nym meets Amber's hard eyes, she manages to hold the stare. However, her own eyes are far less angry and are completely unable to hold an intimidating look. She has tried it before and failed. In fact, she looks more nervous than anything else. The expression, however, easily breaks into a smile at the story. "That's pretty cute. I may just have to bring that up at some point." What is being a part of a squadron if you can't tease them about adorably silly things they did at as a kid?

She leans back a bit when the subject of DeLong returns. "Yeah, I heard they were keeping him in the basement there. You all were extracted before they came and got me. I got into a bit of a collision with a TIE Fighter pilot."

Wincing around another sip of juice, Ambrosia listens quietly before offering an incredibly helpful - in her mind - tip. "You pilots are all crazy - damn skilled - but crazy. Life's safer with some sturdy ground under your boots, you know." Another quip? Maybe. She did get a front-row seat to Kylo's handiwork, after all, before being blasted into limbo.

Nym can't help but smirk that the advice. "I've heard that before. My mom tells that to my dad that all the time. She's a mechanic. Prefers her feet on the earth. Never understood our fascination with the sky." There's a soft laugh. "I'm absolutely horrible on the ground. Last time I was on a ground mission, I accidentally shot Oriana. And before that I fell into a river with carnivorous eels. I prefer the stars to all that."

"Sheesh," Ambrosia mutters, around her straw. "Sounds like you'd fit right in, to me..." Bobbing her brows, she swallows and puts the now-empty sippy down. She doesn't mention that she'd probably fly herself into a star or the backside of a heavy cruiser, if roles were reversed. Resting her head back against the pillow, she flips the recorder/projector open again and lets it resume its silly montage of life that Kort must fear she'd forgotten or confuse.

Right on cue, preschool Jax points accusingly at his mother's pregnant space station of a belly. One his father had 'lovingly' referred to as DeathStar 1 and 2, if she recalled correctly. "She ate it."

Kort's chuckle gets louder in the background and the image zooms in strictly onto the little boy's face. "Well where did she get it from?"

To this, Jax furrows his brows, adopting his mother's 'look' at the notion that his wisdom is not being taken seriously. "...She bought it at the store."

"They sell babies at the Nobo's Foodmart?"

"Next to the bread," he nods sagely. From on high, a woman's hand moves to intercept the lens's eye on the situation, perhaps having taken notice to its wandering. *FIZZLEFEEDSWITCH* and it's back to Sabacc.

"I did get a Rancor claw dagger out of the last mission." Pulling into her pocket, Nym grabs the dagger that Rake made her and the others on Felucia. She holds it out for Amber to see, though she's a bit awkward in holding it. It's clear she has very little idea of how to hold a dagger or even knows what to do with one made out of a dead animal's claw. "Rake made them for us. I'm...not really sure what to do with them."

As the screen turns on again, she beams at the story. Something good to tease Jax with later. She gives Amber a fond smile. "You've got an adorable son, Major." She can't help it. "I can't wait to tell him that story." As the feed turns to Sabacc, she puts the dagger back down on the table and looks at the screen in concentration. She wasn't putting Amber on - she really is bad at Sabacc.

A tattooed hand reaches down to pick up the dagger that Nym sets on the table. "I think I have seen that look a couple of times," Sesti muses, her purple eyes on the screen. "I knew it looked famiiar when I saw it on you, Major." She shifts her gaze and winks, then lifts the dagger a little to test the balance. "Not bad. More decorative than functional, I think, though. Unless one is really accomplished at knife fighting."

A spark of interest flickers in the shallow depths of Ambrosia's idle staring as that unique instrument of death comes into view. She knows what to do with it. Yes, she sure does. That natural curve of the blade would only ease the spin 'round --

And before the Major's hand can even creep close enough to inspect Nym's new toy for herself, her chaperone swoops in to steal it. The grownup pout smoldering on her face is probably also one Sesti knows, as it aims well and true. "Doc," an edge of annoyance an otherwise tame mouth. "Changing of the guard due to happen anytime soon? That poor fellow's been eyeing the bedpans like he's in need of one himself," She says a little more loudly. Gotta enact stabs of spite when you can...even if unarmed and outgunned.

As Sesti enters, Nym swivels in her chair. There's a warm smile for the doctor. "Well, all I can really use it for is decoration," she responds. She doesn't really have much in the way of combat skills if it doesn't involve a ship or an X-Wing. "Someone is eyeing your bedpans?" she asks, almost seriously. Then,s he realizes this is snark. "Ah. I think the Major was hoping to head outside sometime soon. Hex has managed with a hover chair."

"Now, Major. Is that any way to talk after your son pulled together a present for you?" Sesti asks, one hand still behind her back as she flicks the knife around in her forward hand. "Hello, Landala. We may take the Major out again soon. It is certainly possible." Flipping the handle towards Nym, and lets her take it back, giving her a smile. "The last trip had to be ended quite suddenly."

"...Was Kort," grumps the Major quietly and turns her eyes to watch the newly dealt hands get revealed. She knows those symbols. She does. They just get lost somewhere between her thoughts and her tongue. Deactivating it again before it pisses her off too greatly, she sets it aside on the table next to the empty juice cup.

"What happened?" Nym asks Sesti, looking over at Amber in an attempt to figure out what she might have attempted that got her restrained back to the bed. She reaches to to grab the dagger from Sesti and gingerly returns it to its proper place. "Kort?" She raises an eyebrow, she doesn't know the name. In fact, she doesn't know much about Ambrosia's past other than that she is the mother to Jax. And, somehow, she has a feeling she wouldn't even know that without knowing Jax.

Nym leans back when Amber decides to deactivate the Sabacc game. There's a bit of a smile there. "I think you were winning, anyway." They weren't actually playing, but it's certainly likely that she was already losing.

Raising her eye ridges, when the dagger is safely stowed away from Amber, Sesti puts her other behind her back to whatever is there. "She had another episode, and we needed to hook her back up to the machines. However, she has been more stable lately, and so a trip may be tried again soon." She stands placidly to the side, and when Nym asks about the name, she grins. "Jax's father, her husband." She watches Nym's face, waiting to see her reaction to the news that the Major is actually married to a living person.

"I think that may help." Not that Nym really knows the best way to do anything medically. Once her dagger is stowed and the Sabacc game turned off, she stands. "I should probably get back to the Hangar." The information about Amber's husband is met with a bit of a tilted head, but not much else. She's surprised Amber has a husband she's never heard of, but then, she hasn't heard much of anything about the Major's life. Perhaps it's not all that surprise. "Oh! I haven't met him yet. I look forward to doing so." Smoothing back some of her hair, she smiles at Sesti and then Amber. "Thanks for letting me stay, Major. I'll come visit again later, if that's alright."

There's a little bit of a rumbling in the grapevine today. Well, if you're partial to paying attention to that sort of thing. And if you've got the clearance to be partial to paying attention to that sort of thing.

There's a new big fish swimming in the Resistance's pond in the form of Sar Yavok. And it's only been a few minutes since his personal Delta-7 Aethersprite landed on the tarmac just outside, and he made a b-line straight for the Med Lab. Mister tall, dark and grumpy flags down a member of the medical staff and asks for someone. The young lady points him in the direction of the bed-ridden Major in command of Dagger Team.

"Major Greystorm?" he asks as he approaches the bed, offering nods to the Zabrak and the ball of frizz that are also in attendance.

Nodding silently with a softening expression towards Nym, Ambrosia offers her thanks and permission, all in one go. One finger points halfheartedly from her lap at Sesti's posture. "What's with the attention there, 'Corporal'? I miss something?" Only a couple weeks worth of action...

And that, evidently. Quirking a brow to the approaching tall glass of /something/, Dagger's grounded team lead puffs her chest only a little, within the confines of that fluffy, ridiculous robe they'd stuck on her. It's preferable to nudity, at least. "Yes?" She answers bluntly with all the warmth of a turd left on Hoth's frozen tundra.

Sesti waves to Nym as she leaves and then turns back to Amber. "Attention, Major?" she asks with a quizzical frown. "Oh, are you referring to me holding the recent AAR reports from Sullust and recent missions behind my back?" There's a completely bland expression to her face, which looks to woman for another moment, before turning to survey the newcomer walking into the medical lab.

"I was pointed in your direction," Sar explains, hands resting on his hips for a moment before he remembers social graces, and extends a hand to her, "Sar Yavok. I'm the new Lieutenant Colonel. Heard that I should introduce myself to you and get a lay of the land. I was not, however, informed of your current condition, and I can come back at another time, if that's preferable." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder towards the door as he offers up the option.

Ambrosia's eyes narrow a tad in study of this alleged Lt Colonel. Like a robot, her right hand extends as per pesky protocol and she clasps his with a little more umpf than the rest of her may seem capable of, at the moment. "You come with papers?" She replies before the spell's broken and Sesti's nonchalant telling snaps back to the forefront of her mind.

Her other hand goes to the Dr, ushering in these reports. "It's about damn time. I ain't dead."

(Anymore)

The Lt. Colonel is also looked over by Sesti, not in an obvious head to toe, but more of a straight on scrutiny. Her hands come out from behind her back, one of them extending about half a dozen folders, all paper, no paper clips or staples. "No, apparently your brain has survived," the doctor tells Amber. "And so I have other patients to attend. I have put in an order for a 'walkabout' at 2100 hours, after your meal." She nods her head to Sar. "Sir." And she turns to continue her rounds.

"Papers? I think you're thinking of the other team," Sar says with just the smallest hint of a smirk. He releases her hand after returning the firm shake and moves to have a seat in a nearby chair, leaning forward and propping an elbow up on his knee. A nod is offered to Sesti as she makes her exit. He watches after her for a few moments and his attention returns to Ambrosia.

"I don't know who you are...so I'm asking for verification," Ambrosia flashes Sar a glance over the top of the folder stack, "Sir?" A little puff of air escapes her lips and she fumbles with opening the folder on top. It's not such a smooth manuever though and somehow her motor skills can't handle the simple task without letting two on the bottom slip through and...flutter flutter flutter. Everywhere.

• Sigh*

Darkness returns to her visage and the little heart monitor alerts the spike in blood pressure. Her gaze, aimed at the scattered documents, turns despondant before temper reflares. "NOT ONE DAMN CLIP!? Come on!" Evidently, she's that frightening, or senile, that she can't be trusted with small, sharp objects. At least they didn't confiscate her finger, too.

Sar Yavok watches as the papers for fluttering all over the place, and stands up, as calm and measured as he does everything else in his life. He kneels down and begins to stack them together, doing the best he can to keep them all sorted, but it's a warzone down there. "Well, I'm sure it'll make its way through the regular channels, but I just touched down on base. Kinda wanted to get a headstart an' come pester you about the 'who's and 'what's around here."

Ambrosia watches the restacking efforts while keeping a much tighter grip on the remaining few. "Thanks. I'd get it myself, but - as you can see - my 'what's' have become a mite restricted, for the time being. 'Who's' as well, given this is the first I'm hearing about...well. Any personnel developments." Her legs shift beneath the sheet, just an inch. The effort brings a new grimace to her already oh-so pleasant expression. "But you heard the Doctor. 2100 hours, I'm busting out of here. Tag along and I'll point out the scenery as we go."

Another ghost of a smirk is brought to Sar's lips at the demonstration of the lady's gumption and he stands up straight, stacking the scattered papers together and offering them to the Major, "I'd like that. Feelin' a bit like a fish out of water. Never had much problem with tellin' people what to do, or even showin' 'em how to do it, but...well, I ain't exactly a people person."

"Well, that makes two of us." Taking repossession of the stack and using it to wave a salute at the newcomer, Ambrosia slips them behind her back for later reading. After a great deal of rustling around and very small adjustments in posture. "Welcome aboard."

Sar Yavok returns the half-salute and says, "Good luck in your recovery, Major. I'll see about getting you some sort of...mobilization in the meantime. Probably do you some good to get some fresh air. No better cure for what ails you." Though, it's likely to do some bad for everybody in her way.