AWD #271: Question for ya
AWD #271: Question for Ya
Summary: Mallas is going crazy in Sickay until Leightner shows up.
Date: Sat 05/Oct/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs:
Leightner Mallas 
Sickbay - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Serving as the ship's primary care facility, the Medical Center is a rather large, single room structure that has the same load bearing structures to the walls that the halls do, as well as the same heavy hatch. There is a desk at the entrance staffed by a nurse as well as a small locker for single dose drugs like aspirin. Beds are lined up along each wall with EKG's and hangers for IVs in case of triage. Large cabinets at the rear provide ready access to lifesaving medicines and gear, as well as a ready supply of defibrillators. Not far from the primary entrance is the Chief Medical Officer's office and on the other side is a small hatch to the recovery ward. Towards the rear is a sectioned off examination area. Opposite the hatch to recovery is a sealed doorway leading down a hallway to the ship's morgue.
Wed 05/Oct/2005 (IC Date)

Leightner is making rounds, not Rounds but he's doing the real work, thanks. Bandage changing, IV bags. Mopping, you know the work. Even Sickbay has grunt work. He comes to bedside, setting a tray of bandages and some IV bags on the table.

Mallas has been up here for less than 48 hours, but the docs have done some good work. He's still wearing a hospital gown, so they're not letting him go just yet, but he is up and moving around. The Private paces restless around the area near his bed, still favoring his wounded foot a little, and is vigorously squeezing a rubber ball in his injured left hand.

Leightner looks over, "Private, ya look good." Whoa, yeah.. The voice, if nothing else that Virgonese accent, it's The Corpsman. "So I have an important question for ya."

Mallas's eyes snap around when someone addresses him, and he looks … angry. But the instant he realizes who it is his face changes, and he smirks at Leightner. "Oh, hey Doc." Likely he is using 'doc' as a general medical nickname, since he can see the Corpsman's insignia. "Thanks for scraping me off the pavement. I owe you one." And important question for a grunt? Mallas looks confused by that. "Yeah? What's up?"

Leightner smiles back to the Private, somewhat in response to the thanks, but also in anticipation and interest. "Ya want ya schrapnel?" He lets that hang, but starts explaining, "See, any metal I pull outta someone, I try ta hold onta, couse we might need it if ya get a blood infection, an I took a piece outta yer foot. Beauty too."

Mallas barks a laugh when he hears what the question is. "Seriously?! You still got it? Sure. Sure I'll take it." He shifts forward, eager to receive his prize here and now. And when he gets closer, he pitches his voice low. "Hey … you think you can get me out of here? Frakkin' nurses keep telling me I gotta stay 'til tomorrow."

Leightner leans in and listens, frowning, and shakes his head, "Sorry mate, I don't have the keys to the place. That kinda powers above my paygrade." He takes a breath, "Listen, I'm thrown down in six B" Seriously. Corpsmen are the NAvy in the Marine bunks. "I can shoot out get ya whatever from ya bunk, an be back in like ten. But," He snaps his fingers and it's like a magic trick, in between his first and middle fingers is.. Well, it looks honestly like a metal Dorito. a waved, triangular piece of metal that looks jaged and horribly painful. Leightner watches the Privates face as he offers it to the man.

Mallas is obviously disappointed there's no 'get out of jail free' card in his future. "Nah, don't sweat it. I just wanna get back downstairs." He does brighten up when the metal fragment appears suddenly in the Corpsman's fingers. He gives a soft whistle of appreciation, both for the deft trick and the size of the shrapnel. "Frak. That was one of our grenades, too. You know … I frakkin' hate those Godsdamned Sixes." He reaches out to take the piece of jagged steel.

Leightner lets him take it. It's solid steel and tough. The grin on Leightners face broadens, "Aye our own grenade." He shrugs, "Been mostly Centurions fer me to be honest, till here." He chuckles, "I knew a lotta blokes, kept score by their schrapnel an bullet collection." He points at the Dorito of Doooooom. "That's a good piece."

Mallas stares down at the piece of steel that tried to take off his foot, then closes his hand around it. Carefully. "Yeah, I got my own scorecard. But I'm gonna offer this to Ares." He sounds deeply serious about that, but lightens up almost immiedately afterward. "You're Virgon, right? You big on Hestia?"

Leightner nods slowly, at the idea of a sacrifice, he likes that, then blinks at the question, a moment passes where he is thinking, "Hestia? No, not really. Did some training on Hibernia."

Mallas grins and shakes his head. "Nah, I mean the Goddess. Hestia with the hearth, and all that." Now he looks a little uncertain. "Or did I get that wrong? I thought she was the one for Virgon. Maybe not." Oh well, he shrugs that off.

Leightner smiles, shaking his head, "Sorry," He cracks up a little, "MY fault, I was thinking Navigation, for some damn reason." He grins, "My frakkin brain, Um, well, Aye, that's right, but um, well, I was raised with a strong Family tie to another god." He shrugs, "so I'm not as deeply intuned to Hestia as most Virgonese would be."

Mallas looks a bit puzzled by the half answer, but just says "Huh." He hooks his thumb towards his hospital bed. "Can't have my knife in here, but if you tell me the God you want, I'll make you a carving next change I get." He seems eager to pay off some of that 'I owe you one' karma.

Leightner brightens suddenly, reaching into his pocket, "Ah, well, Private, I'll take ya up on that, as fer who." He pulls out of a pocket, his Brassard. That he has to have on him in case someone shouts 'MEDIC' He opens it, "Fer me, O course." Of course, Asclepius. The Healer.

Mallas nods as it dawns on him. "Oh. Yeah." It does seem like the obvious guess, and yet the young Private still looks a bit uncertain. "I can do that. Just gotta hunt up a decent piece of wood once I get back down to Picon."

Leightner repockets his Brassard with quick movements. Seriously, his fingers seriously quick. "No rush, mate. You'll be back Boots On soon. Best thing you can do is hop up an let me look ya over." He shrugs. "I can file a checkup and give it to the Doctor so they can read it, rather than do it themselves. Might speed it up. Best I can do fer ya."

Mallas waves off the offer of a medical examination. "Nah, I'm good. There's guys in here that need you more than me." He starts to edge back towards his own bed, grousing again. "The nurses are sick of listening to me bitch. Bet they kick my ass out tomorrow. See ya back down there, Doc."

Leightner nods, "Listen, mate." He leans in, "Understand, This, THIS, here, is me job. Corpsmen work both ways, IT's the Navy havin medics with the Marines, AND, I'm yer man in sickbay, Eh? Helpin ya get da frak outta here. Okay?"

Mallas gives it up and works his way up to sit on top of his bed. "Okay, okay. I guess you gotta do your job." He sticks his bandaged foot out towards Leightner. "Just try not to cut off anything, Doc." He settles down to sit out the examination. Hey, maybe it really will help get him out of there earlier…

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