AWD #425: Favour Yeah
A Favour Yeah
Summary: Sam and Kelsey stop by the brig, one for business, one for pleasure.
Date: 25/08/2016
Related Logs: Commonalities
Toby Samtara Kelsey 
Brig - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
The battlestar's brig is comprised of a line of four individual cells organized in separate walled-off bays. Each cell is six feet wide by eight feet long and possesses a bed and toilet. Whenever even one cell is occupied, so too is the metal desk and chair at the entrance hatch — and backup for the guard is never far away. Brig rules are posted behind the desk on a white panel with blocked black lettering.
AWD #425

It's been a while now since Skyler left. The guard has changed at the desk, and another meal has been both provided and consumed. Consumed slowly mind, as his ribs hurt and his head is not his friend, but consumed none the less. For now he's sat on his new bunk, back against one wall, shoulder into the corner, and eyes closed as he considers the supposed revelations the Lieutenant from Intel has offered. Not that he has much else to do, but they're interesting enough to consider anyway.

Exchanging a nod and a moment of quiet voices conversation with the marines on duty, Dr. Nadir moves through the security hug before being escorted to the brig, proper. Carrying the standard first aid field kit, the carrying strap is worn across her body, the kit secured at her side as she waits for the marine to unlock the cell and allow her entrance.

Movement around the guard desk is not enough to tempt Toby to open his eyes, from what he's seen of their shift patterns it's not time for a change, but it could be something as trivial as someone bringing the guy on duty a coffee. The rattling of the keys though, that prompts him to crack open an eyelid. "Doctor," he greets, without moving so as not to spook the guard, "I didn't realise you did house calls. Your corpsman last night assured me I'd live, I hope he wasn't just trying to spare my feelings." Outwardly he looks a little stiff, and he's certainly not moving her torso at all, but there's a small cut above the corner of his left eye, and enough bruising in the surrounding area to indicate that something impacted with force.

Sharing another nod with the marine, Dr. Nadir gives a mild shake of her head, "If you had been in imminent danger of actually expiring, they'd have brought you directly to sickbay instead of the brig." Unlatching the clasps on the kit, Sam pulls on a clean pair of gloves before doing anything else. "May I ascertain, from your lack of immediate leap to the offer of violence, that you're moderately safe to approach and treat at this time?"

"Oh I dunno," Toby replies with a faintly morbid sense of humour, "your corpsman might've, but I doubt every marine onboard would have." At Sam's question he raises an eyebrow faintly, but then doesn’t contest it, not given why he's here, so he settles instead with replying, "just keep the conversation of religion and politics and we should be fine Doc." Ah, the classics, but there is a reason why they're classics. "Do I need to move?" he then asks, "only that hurts, so advanced notice is appreciated."

Exhaling a breath before she speaks, "I should think not. Do you see cleric robes and feel an overwhelming need to embrace your inner peace? No. Do you see intel pins on my uniform? No. Leave the headache chasing to those two professions, thank you," Nadir retorts before she steps closer and surveys Toby for a moment, head tipped subtly to the side. "Where does it hurt the most at this point?"

Toby offers a quick, grateful smile to Sam as she agrees to avoid those two problem areas, then stops to consider her question for a moment before pointing to his left temple. "It's a close run thing Doc, but my head is pounding. Unless I have to move that is, un which case my ribs," he indicated a section of them, "take the lead. Not sure what it was your man gave me last night, but it's wearing off."

<FS3> Samtara rolls First Aid: Good Success.

Extracting the pen light from the kit, Nadir approaches and studies Toby's pupils for a moment then clicks the end of the pen to turn the light on. "I'm going to check to make sure you don't have any obvious signs of a concussion, aside from the headache. Does your head hurt, in general, or any one specific epicenter? And it's likely that you have cracked ribs, if you're still in pain at this point," she notes and checks one eye, then the next, studying each in turn. "Mild concussion, I would avoid taking any lengthy naps for the next day or so. I don't imagine you have 'peace and quiet' in here enough to fall into any sort of deep slumber anyway. I'll leave instructions that you're to be checked on the hour, all the same. We'll address the headache in a moment," the penlight is tucked back into the kit and she extracts the stethoscope instead. "Let me hear you breathe," only moving the cool metal disc over Toby's chest once he does as she asks.

"Mostly up there," Toby replies, pointing to the area of bruising, "but then thats where he got his blows in so I don't think I should be surprised." Keeping still as she checks his pupils he has to grin a little at the peace and quiet comment. "Doc, if there's one thing I do get it's peace and quiet. It's just me, the walls, and Captain Conversation over there." He points towards the MP on duty for a moment then lets his arm drop so he can lift his vests and let Sam at his chest. "Does that every hour include when I'm asleep?" he asks dubiously, "I slept okay last night, but then I guess I did have the adrenalin crash and the painkillers." He's not sitting up properly yet though, preferring to lean his weight against the wall.

Making a low sound that is best described as a slightly off-key tuneless grunt, "At this point, no. But every six hours should suffice. If the headache does not abate then I will have you in for a scan to determine if the mild concussion is leading to anything more serious." She examines his chest, hands moving with as much are and pressure as necessary, exploring the shape of his ribs before she gives another of those nods. "Cracked and uncomfortable, more bruising and swelling than anything else. I'll wrap them for you, it'll offer stability and that, too, will help with the pain. You should have them fetch you something from the library," this nonsequitor comes without a break between one topic and the next. "Something to read in lieu of staring at the walls and the bars and captain conversation."

"I've a thick skull Doc," Toby replies with perhaps even a faint hint of amusement, "I'm sure it's nothing serious. It's taken harder knocks than this before." He certainly doesn't sound overly worried. "Wrap away," he offers, taken a moment to sit himself up straight so he can take the off-duty vests full off to give her the access she requires. While not every inch of his torso is covered in tattoos, it's fair to say that there are a lot of them, some merging into others in various patterns, some written in what is presumably Tauran, but one around his arm that says simply 'Sol Invictus' with a small dot inside the larger 'o'. As for a book, that comment gets a smile, "they could bring me the one I was reading before their mate started mouthing off," he notes, "it might still be in the Rec Room, I dunno."

"If it's still there, I'll retrieve it for you and have it brought in," the doctor offers as she gathers what she needs from the kit and turns around, pausing with a mild start of surprise at the sheer span of ink worked into the crewman's skin. "Well, that must have taken months of time to apply and heal," she notes after that brief moment of surprise. "Did you chart that out in advance or was it free form of some sort?" frank curiosity evident in her tone of voice as she gestures for Toby to lift his arms again so she may wrap his torso. Noting the different patterns and designs, the placement of letters and words, it's only as she's leaning in to pass the wrapping around that she notes one design in particular along his arm. "Intriguing. Is that the symbol that has been the focus of some research of late?"

"It's the tome on fire retardant chemicals," Toby replies from where he's sat on the cell's bunk, "I doubt anyone else will have been flicking through it in the mean time." As for the tattoo's he's just uncovered he shakes his head slowly, "built up over time, although I generally have an idea of what might come next in some loose form. Each one means something those, or marks something." Not that he's about to go into individual stories mind. Lifting his arms as directed he braces against the expected pain as Sam wraps the bandages round his ribs, then looks at his arm as she notices that particular bit of ink. "No," he answers, perhaps a touch shortly, "although you're not the first to make that mistake. Mine is a traditional symbol from my home, the Captain's is her rank tab. Similar, but different."

"I'll take your word for it," Sam notes as she continues to pass the length of support wrapping around his torso. "Until someone can document that image on film, I won't be seeing it with my own eyes," there's a crisp measure of decisiveness in her tone as she makes another circuit with the wrapping. "Similar but different could suggest a similar point of origin behind the symbol itself, though similar is not the same, and like all languages that use written symbols meaning and context along with accompanying reference marks and cultural emphasis can cause radical shifts in interpretation." The length of wrapping secured she tests it to ensure the wrapping is tight enough. "This will be itchy, uncomfortable, bothersome and annoying, in random order. Do try to avoid removing it until I've given you the go ahead, if you'd be so kind."

The hatch opens and Kelsey enters. She's in a baby blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. There's a quick glance around to see what's around before looking to the two in the cell. The JG moves to lean against the desk, resting her rear on it while she watches wordlessly. Yep, she's looking over the ink, too.

Toby grimaces a couple of times as Sam works, then again as she checks the wrap is tight enough, but he doesn't complain, merely query, "what about my daily shower Doc? You need them," a vague gesture towards the guard, "to send for someone to reapply, or do I just get to stink the place out?" He's assuming it's not waterproof. Thankfully though, Kelsey's arrival means he can skip the rest of what Sam was talking about and he tilts his head towards the pilot. He's pleased to see her, that much is clear, and he grins and offers an amused sounding, "enjoying the view there Lieutenant?"

"The wrap comes off, you shower, dry, then the go back on. Send a runner to sickbay when you're going to have your daily 2 minute ration of lukewarm water," clearly Sam is jesting about the 2 minute part, "and I'll send someone down to make sure that the wrap goes back on secure," she pauses then to share a nod with Kelsey then back to examine the cleaned cut above Toby's left eye and the nice mottling pattern of bruising that is forming. "This is going to get much worse before it gets better, which you are, I presume, well aware by now," is noted as she steps back, peels off the gloves and thriftily disposes of them in a sealed pouch she carries in one pocket. The kit is snapped back together, "I'll see about retrieving that book. No more pain killers, just in case that headache develops into something worse, and I'll check on you again in a few hours," she turns then to tip a nod toward Kelsey. "If you'll have someone open the cell, Lieutenant, I'd like to be on the other side of a locked door. In general. It's a preference."

"Only because its you behind bars," she jockeys back at him with an equally amused sound and smile. "And yes, I absolutely loathe watching a bare, defined male torso. Worst part of my day." She sticks her fingertips into her pockets. The shared nod gets one in return to Sam. "Doctor Nadir, sir." A simple greeting. Once the request is made, she gets off her rump and leans outside the hatch to fetch an MP. The lady comes back in to unlock it and let Sam out without much further ado. Kelsey is easy enough to just go back to her spot.

Noted," Toby replies to Sam as he leans back against the cell wall in case the MP is feeling jumpy or suspects he might try anything. Once Sam is safely outside he considers putting his vests back on, but in the end can't really be bothered as he's not cold. "I shall look forward to your return then," he offers the captain, then turns to Kelsey. "Should I just shut up while you objectify me then? I fear I have no immediate plans to work up a sweat to improve your experience."

Tension easing notably once she's on the other side of the locked door, Nadir exhales a breath and frowns, pointedly, at the locked door. "Unpleasant things, door locks, when on the wrong side one is." She shoulders the kit and glances from Toby to Kelsey then back again. "Right. No hitting," she says with pointed emphasis at Toby, "use your words more, less fists. You," and she aims a half smile at the Lieutenant, "no drooling. Words, not saliva," easy, amused, advice before she heads back toward the hub.

"Shut up and look pretty, Toby," Kelsey tells him with a grin. Yep, she's in high spirits. The words from Samtara get a healthy laugh from her as she leans to the side with it. "Aye, sir." She then looks back to Toby and lifts a chin. "So I heard that a friend of mine was taking up space in the brig. Decided I might come down here for a visit. How're you holding up and did you get into a fight with a washing machine?"

"I can't help looking pretty," Toby replies with a grin. A slightly chuckle is quickly aborted given his ribs but he too it seems, doesn’t seem to be too down, despite the circumstances. Once Sam is gone gone he relaxes a little more himself then shrugs, "I tried to talk sense to a marine. I suspect I really should know better by now, but it's a worthy cause to strive for I'm sure you'll agree. In the end though there was only so much dumb arrogance I could cope with, so I hit him." And the rest is, as they say, history.

Kelsey feigns surprise. "Toby, I am shocked and appalled that you got into a fight. That's just never happened to you before. What were you thinking?" She throws her hands into the air and makes a dramatic sigh before laughing and looking back to him. "Has talking sense to a Marine ever worked out before? As much as I respect the Marines, punching them doesn't seem to be working. You may need a different approach. Have you tried seducing them? I hear they respond well to being plied with alcohol."

"Who says I punched him?" Toby replies attempting to look hurt at the suggestion, "I lead with an Antioch kiss" Because that's so much better. "I've occasionally had success with talking," he notes, "mostly required lots of small words, and some big pictures, but occasionally it's worked. Not so much when they've got a fraking bee in their helmet about something though, then they get stubborn enough they could almost be Tauran." As for her final comment, that actually spoils the mood, if only for a moment before he bounces back with, "wouldn't touch 'em like that with a fraking barge pole. I have some standards."

"Antioch kiss. So what, did you hit him with a bottle?" she chuckles. Kelsey has no horse in the race for his guilt or innocence, she just enjoys her friend. "Well maybe more small words and pictures next time, mmkay?" The last has her look away with a grin before her eyes come back. "So last time it was questions about religion, if I recall. More of the same?" There's something more tender about it. She knows the guy is sensitive about his beliefs.

Toby raises an eyebrow faintly as Kelsey doesn't get what he meant, "oh you sweet, sheltered child," he mocks gently, "no, there was no bottle. I merely introduced my forehead to his nose." At speed. "Then I punched him, and he punched me, and I suspect you know the rest, although there was a bulkhead involved as well, just to keep it interesting." When her question comes he considers his answer for a moment then nods, "largely the same, some differences." It's not something he wants to get into when Intel have already admitted that the brig is under surveillance, so he keeps his answer vague. "He did a lot of bad mouthing someone he shouldn't, lets just put it that way."

"Sheltered?" She throws a snap. "I was a cheerleader. And swim team. I know all about that sort of stuff." She giggles merrily. "Sounds painful, though." Kelsey has learned to throw a punch. Gods know she's been in the brig for throwing an elbow into a Chief's face when she was a recruit. Maybe she picked up something at one point. The answer has her nod slowly and she glances to the cameras, then back. "Ah. Badmouthing a certain Captain? Or a certain Other?" She isn't about to say too much if he's holding back some as well.

"The Captain," Toby concedes, "and her troops. Calling them the enemy, cylons. Point out the timeline discrepancies and he goes off on a rant about how he's never seen one or some such bullshit. Got to admit, I'd largely stopped listening by that point." With a faint chill in the air he shifts enough to grab his vests and pull them back over his head, over the bandages, then asks, "can you do me a favour? Nothing nefarious, or such, just a message needs taking."

Kelsey quirks the side of her mouth, not looking so convinced with an aspect of it. "I guess. I mean, Toby, you know me. I've never seen one. But I believe you are convinced of what you've seen. I just feel weird about it because I don't know anything." The pilot, though, seems willing to go see someone. "Sure, Toby. Anything I can do. What's up? Need someone to bring you a magazine?" she offers easily.

"Sounds nuts doesn't it," Toby admits easily enough, "ghosts from ages past. I've no fraking clue if they're ghosts or not, but it's an easier word to use than trying to come up with something else. Revenant perhaps? But then isn't that just a form of ghost? I don't know, call them what you like," just not cylon apparently. At the mention of a magazine he shakes his head slowly, "nothing so dull. I was talking with Dr Thanos about her excavations. Apparently she reckons the site we found while hunting for Sheperd is religious in nature. She said I could be there when they open up what they suspect are cellars, or tunnels of some type. Only now, well, I might not be able to keep the appointment."

Kelsey shrugs. "On the surface it sounds nuts. But when you meet people who are so convinced, it calls to question a lot of things. You question your questioning." Kelsey always was a dreamer. When she was an Ensign she was so full of anger and despair that it was lost. But having her daughter back? She's regained some of who she was. "I think maybe it's okay to consider outside possibilities. It doesn't hurt anyone for me to think something like that." The hope of youth. Maybe some of that cheerleader is still inside. The mention of who she might need to talk to has her quirk a brow. "Ah. Yeah, okay. You want me to tell her anything specific? Ask her to wait for you?"

"Or we're all nuts," Toby replies with a grin, he can say it, because he knows he's just gently mocking himself, but woe betide anyone else who might make that suggestion. "I won't say the possibilities are endless, but if eighteen months ago someone told you we'd be in this position, the colonies lost to the Cylons, would you have thought that any crazier?" Perspective is a weird thing. As for Thanos, well, he shrugs, "if she'll wait then I'd be grateful, but I suspect she won't. Just apologise would you, and beg, lots of begging, I really want to see what's down there. Just, you know, in case."

"I think we're all a little bonkers at this point, hon." Kelsey half-smiles at it. She does consider the point he makes about what's happened, though. She nods slowly. "Okay, copy that, Tobes. I'll hunt her down and let her know. Don't know if she'll listen, but we'll see. Do my best for you." She rises off the desk. "I'll see if I can hunt her down now. Sleep well when you get there, yeah?" She winks at him and moves for the hatch.

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