Log:The Road to Recovery: Sandwich Therapy
The Road to Recovery: Sandwich Therapy
Location: Medical Lab, D'Qar
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm, (not) Dash Rendar, Tess Ul'datha, Maeve Zavir
Over twenty four hours has gone by since Ambrosia got to enjoy her brief 'walk' outside. She caught a glimpse of sky, at least, before Sesti's doctor sense kicked in, busted her hallucination in the act, and whisked her back inside.
No fun.
No longer hearing Ewoks chattering in the treetops or fearing that someone is coming for her children - they are grown, after all, the Major is enjoying a more vertical view of the room today, courtesy of the bed's incline. She's been given control of that device, maneuvering it easily with her free forearm. The biceps though? Those are still restrained. The danger zone surrounding her reach has been drastically narrowed.
"You look terrible, Amber," Dash remarks candidly as he wanders into the room, a cup of warmed-up caff in his hand. He moves to intercept one of the doctors and, after a brief exchange, she's scurrying off to fetch something for the Captain, leaving the man standing there, sipping quietly at his cup, regarding the Major over the brim.
Escorted to the Medical lab again by one of those young soldiers who keep making Mae have to resist the urge to call them 'boy soldiers', Dr. Zavir is embarrassing one such soldier by asking after his health and giving VERY UNSOLICITED advice against STD's when the young soldier escorts her to the door and retreats, rather hastily, face flaming red. Wearing a smile that is almost, ALMOST, a smirk but all amusement, Maeve clips the visitors badge to the lapel of the jacket she's wearing and moves to speak with one of the nurses before she meddles further.
"And you look..." Her damaged lobe struggles there, green eyes glittering with malice to fill in the gaps where vocabulary falters. Dammit, what's the word? Ambrosia gives up not long thereafter, choosing to look at the shape of her feet under the sheet instead. Aora hadn't come to brush her hair yet, so it probably did look bad. But who's to care? Not her. Nope.
She looks like she wished she'd died in that collapsing mess hall.
Why in the hell is Tess always eating sandwiches suddenly? What the hell is it about bread and meat and condiments that makes the healing process so much easier? Well obviously protein is important, but she's like a vaccum-cleaner that is specifically tailored towards devouring sandiwches. Like just now, when she comes in a little behind Maeve and her unfortunate embarassed escort that Tess has a sandwich in one hand and a juice box in the other. She walks through the check point to stand beside Dash, "Hey boss, I brought you food." Yet another sandwich, this one wrapped and kinda smooshed, from her pocket. She had to sit her sandwich down on a table, hopefully on something clean because she absolutely intends to eat it anyways.
"Gorgeous? Well-hung? Intrepid?" Dash asks, tilting his head with a grin. The doctor moves back to him and passes him a small datapad, to which he responds with a quiet thanks. A look and a nod is offered to both Maeve and Tess as they enter, and he goes about looking over the information on the small screen.
Concluding her conversation with the nurse, and synching her datapad with the most recent chart updates of the few patients she's consulting on, Dr. Zavir shares a smile and a quietly voiced joke with the nurse before heading over to where Ambrosia is surrounded by a bevy of machinery that looks like it's waiting eagerly to be hooked up again. "Major," she offers in greeting, "Ms Ul'datha, forgive me, I've already forgotten your rank, I'm lousy at that stuff," aims a brief smile at the well aged gentleman standing court as well. "Sir," ever polite and back to Ambrosia, "You're looking rather annoyed again."
"I thought my face was stuck this way," Ambrosia retorts mildly, flicking an eye roll to the ceiling. Dash gets a smirk at the 'well hung' bit as she takes a gander at the incoming sandwich. "Good reading?" Mmmm, meat on bread. "And good...lunching?" Aw, she's benign at the moment. "I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to eat that, though. Doc? A little help? Eh?" Both palms go up, offered in show of cuffing as her arms strain forward against their binds. "Tell the kids to be good and keep a safe 1.2 meters away out of my reach and it'll all be fine..."
Is she teasing the Major a little with that sandwich... probably, but not intentionally. That's how privates lose appendages, "Oh come on Boss, you gotta eat. I hear that hospital food gives you worms... this was lovingly crafted." The sandwich, not her hand. Don't eat Tess' hand. Not while she takes her eyes off the captive and looks up at Dash. "Fine... how about you? I've had a dozen of these. Want a sandwich?" She has two more in cargo pockets.
Seriously, it's possibly she's pregnant.
Maeve gives the major a mild grin, "I can arrange that. A twitch of the specific muscle group, a mild paralytic to the fibrous tissue..." and now a mild shrug. "See, we can make that happen. It's the sort of thing those vapid society mavens have done to erase their wrinkles, we'll just lock your muscles in some sort of freakish expression and let you scare new recruits into peeing their pants. More often." This said she angles a sidelong look at Tess, "Possibly intestinal worms," she muses.
"I always dreamed up seeing the Major strapped to a bed, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind," Dash says with a grin, not even looking up from the datapad. He closes the screen and looks around, moving to hand the datapad off to the doctor who fetched it for him. "Sadly, I've gotta go. Feel better, Amber." With that, he swaggers out of the room.
Ambrosia mutters something unintelligible, glowering at the turned back of the scoundrel pilot as he saunters out. Letting her hands flop back into her lap, she tilts her head back against her pillow. "Captain Rendar, everyone...Now how's about a sandwich? Under my own control? Check the security vid - I haven't tried to shoot Alk in days."
Tess points around the medbay until she's pointing at Alk with Amber's sandwich, "That one? Yeah, he probably deserved to be shot." Which probably super duper pleased the droid and Tess doesn't give a crap if it did because he's not here to do anything about neener. So, while holding Amber's sandwich in prep for her release, she sucks down her juicebax with slow drawing puckers of her cheeks. Finger waving to Dash as he saunters out like a boss.
"You're still restrained, however, which means that you're potentially exhibiting the key indicators that suggest a predisposition to violence and or harm to self or others," Maeve counters with a thoughtful tone to her voice, clipping her datapad to her side again before she tucks her hands into her front pockets. "I'm not your primary care physician, I'm just consulting. What guarantee are you willing to give that you won't attempt, or actually accomplish, harm to yourself or others?" She aims a sudden flash of a wry smile at Ambrosia, "The distinction there is important to clarify. If I asked only that you wouldn't attempt, then the loophole is accomplishing, not attempting; and vise versa. So."
"I'm told that my legs aren't going to cooperate for awhile and presently, I'm not feeling homicidal. Corporal Gath hit me with another dose before she left. A bit tired, truthfully. But still hungry." At least the Major's honest. Ambrosia cocks a brow. Waiting.
"Good enough for me." Tess holds the Major's sandwich. Not because she wants to feed her either, oh no, nothing as altruistic as that. The longer she's holding the major's sandwich the longer she's not eating her own sandwich and she really wants her sandwich.
"Fair enough; though be advised that I will tranquilize you at the first sign that you've changed your mind about the notion of being reasonable," Mae warns as she signals to the nearest nurse and has not just a mild dose but a potent fast acting dose prepared and calmly pockets the tranq once it's ready. This done she steps forward with the question, "Left or right hand, by preference?"
"By preference?" Ambrosia dips a brow. "Both. But as a show of good faith, let's make it the left. I don't draw so well with that hand." A pause. "Anymore." That was three close-calls ago, by her recollection. Around the same time as her knee replacement, if memory serves her well...which it doesn't. Probably.
"Yeah, see..." Tess waves her hands around in a 'this shit right here' type of motion, "You start saying junk like that and I'm over here like... maybe she's using eating a sandwich as a clever code for breaking my neck and using my skin as a disguise to get out of this joint..." And ain’t nobody got no time to be worn like a suit.
"Don't worry, your fine motor skills will return, muscle memory at the very least remains intact even if you don't have all the corresponding segments of memory to attach to," Mae remarks as she steps around to the left side of the bed and, snagging the sandwich, hands it to Ambrosia as she unfastens the Major's arm from the bed. "Skin disguise isn't a bad idea, but it's messy, and smelly, and drippy, plus, she'd have to accomplish it without any of the medical staff paying attention. Probably not going to get that past any of the nurses."
"Hold your tongue, Private," the old Greystorm growls softly, mental acuity shining through plain as day in her glare. For the time being. "Ain't 'nobody' got time to put up with snark..." The sharpness of her expression gets halted by the difficulty in putting the next word together. So she moves on. It's sandwich time, anyway. Her newly freed appendage accepts it peacefully and she crams a bite or three in.
"Sorry Major." Tess says dutifully, but this does not change her opinion on having her skin worn like a disguise. That's a scary thing... Amber is a scary woman... and Tess is banking on her being appreciative of sandwich to keep from getting beat down in a medbay in front of everyone. Thankfully there's a Mae there to be all diplomatically scientific about how abstractly inappropriate the use of other people's skin is as a disguise. "Thanks Doc. I was worried." She was... not really.. kinda really. Like two percent not really.
"Plus, peeling the skin off of a human is a time consuming project, all the fine digits for example, have to be done with extraordinary care. And the skin on the face, especially around the nose and ears, is very delicate. The major's motor skills are impaired at the moment, so she wouldn't be as able to accomplish this task as she would prior to her injuries," Maeve notes with another fine gleam of a grin as she takes a half step back, not quite out of reach but not exactly invading the major's personal space or breathing on the major while Ambrosia eats. "Nothing to worry about; yet. Wait until she's back at prior to injury capabilities."
Ambrosia continues to wolf down the food offering before someone takes it away. If hands DO aim to get in the way, they'll get bit. This is her sandwich and she eats it at her own pace. This is the small amount of control in her life that she may presently revel in.
"Not helping..." Tess says to Mae with a green around the gills look suddenly. So much for her sandwich... jeez. Amber gets to enjoy hers and Tess just stares at her own like it's a freshly skinned face. "I need another juice box..." And whiskey. "I'm thinking grape..." Definitely whiskey.
"Now there's a skill," Maeve suggests with a firm nod, "peeling the skin off a grape. Such delicate fruit when perfectly ripe." She sees the slightly green around the gills look and laughs, reaching out to pat Tess on the shoulder. "Don't worry. She's been hurt, and badly, which she knows, better than anyone. She hasn't lost her mind or gone round the bend, a clinical term I assure you."
The sandwich is gone. It had every reason in the galaxy to worry. And now it is gone. Wiping her mouth clean with her free hand, Ambrosia offers Tess a small wink. Or maybe it's just a facial tic!
"Yeah, I meant all this in-depth discussion on how to cut a person's face off appropriately..." Tess counters with a little puff of her cheek, "I'm... gonna go get a juicebox." Double point towards the exit, the landing field, the mess hall. Turn, on her heels, and off she goes.. only stopping long enough to grab her sandwich. Because the illness is not as strong as her overwhelming desire for more sandwich.
"Here," Maeve says as she snags one of the juice boxes left near the sandwich that Ambrosia just inhaled and offers it to the major. "This will take the edge off the thirst," she advises before aiming a smile at Tess before the young soldier departs.
An amused snort escapes Amber's lips but she takes the little juice box anyway. "Flavor of the day..." she murmurs and takes a precautionary sip. It isn't awful. The second and third follow suit before draining it fully on the fourth. "Ought to get me through the night. Thanks, Do."
"Mystery red fruit, always delicious, nutritious, tastes almost like real fruit juice was added to the preservatives, filtered water, salt and dye lot," Mae remarks with a wink before she angles the trash can for the empty box for the major to toss the box into. "Do you need anything else before I have to fasten the strap again?"
"A night of freedom?" *Toss*
It's a fail. The box bounces of a few other things, instead, not landing anywhere near the can. Well then. There's the sort of confidence booster she's needing.
Angling the bin, and still failing to intercept, Mae chuckles before setting it aside and gently reattaching the strap to the Major's left arm, checking first it then all the others before she steps away. "Get some rest, Major and remember; every day is an uphill battle. But you have what you need to get over that hill and every damn other, this much I know," she calls over her shoulder as she heads out and links up with that slightly mortified soldier who will escort her through the base again.
