milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[ooc: I'm hideing this one due to E for Emo and the beginning of a hinted to canon addiction]

Outside by the lake the lone medic sits on the shore, the tops of his jumpboots close enough to the water that when the next wave comes in they get wet. Gene shakes from head to toe feeling the pain courseing through his veins worse than it had during Normandy. And it was a minor and a medium healing- it shouldn't be like this. Curled up against his knees he rocked back and forth with his lips moving so fast in prayer that he couldn't even make the words out that he was saying. However, Eugene Roe knew them by heart.

Without even thinking he reaches into one of his pockets pulling out a syrette. Gene eyes it carefully, it's not something he wants to do again but it hurts and it hurts a lot. Not even the praying is taking it away like it should and that is enough to make him inwardly panic.

Tearing the top cap off he eyes the needle carefully. Needles never bothered him but this..this was different. Licking his lips once as if a moments heitation were coming on, he slowly stuck the needle into his left arm where he had the sleeve rolled back past his elbow. A gentle little squeeze given causeing the rush of masked relief to slowly start working its way through him.

Laying back onto the grass Roe closed his eyes with his lips still mouthing the words of a prayer. It would fade in time..or the morphine would wear off first. He hoped for the earlier option.

Anyone is welcome to come check on the medic.

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Eugene is a medic and a healer. The hives are given a close inspection though if she has already been to the infirmary no doubt the other blue-skined lady or Guppy have seen to her. Soon he releases her hand and climbs back to his feet letting the syrette slip back into a jacket pocket. "This? Ah..'s fine. Will go away soon."

He tries to offer up another weak little smile to cover the lie. "I'm Eugene Roe, Easy Company 506th. 1944."

She doesn't catch the lie for what it is--he's unfamiliar to her, and she's not exactly watching closely for falsehoods. "Ensign Sariel Rager, USS Enterprise, 2368." Her name isn't French; closer to British, if anything, and the where and when are given in English. "During that... madness--" there's a flickered glance over her shoulder toward the lake door and the bar beyond as she pauses, before continuing cautiously. "I heard you. Where are you from?"

2368. That makes Gene blink a few times before he gives a rather confused look. Eventually he'd become used to what Milliways could do, but right now? It's just making him perplexed.

Now when Sariel starts to speak in French this also makes him blink, that little smile becoming a little more solid.

That's not to say the 1944 part of what Gene said isn't a surprise for Sariel. It takes a second or two to process, though it's not the strangest of years people she's met have come from. "I... hadn't thought of that." It's not quite standard French she's speaking, more like a dialect of the same, though it's close enough to be understood. "Different languages are still spoken all over my world. I hadn't thought it might seem strange. Castries, Saint Lucia," she adds; that explains the dialect, at least.

No matter where or when, Gene is still impressed. His own Cajun French is hard to understand at times, but it's do-able and use-able. And surprisingly it's more calming to the medic..or maybe it's the morphine.

Stuffing his hands back into his pockets he fumbles around with the syrette in his pocket and also just remembering his sleeve. Casually he starts to roll it back down.

Ensign. The rank has to be Navy, at least that's what Gene thinks as he asks, buttoning his shirt sleeve before pulling his jacket down around it.

Sariel's own French patois isn't as precise as her English, for one, but it's still clear--usable, doable. Whatever works. From all indications, she's understanding Gene well enough. It's not often she gets to speak this language aboard ship, so it's likely she missed it. "I think it is, but I'm biased. I was born there. I grew up there too, with the exception of academy training. I've never been to Louisiana, but I've heard--"

The Navy question is what halts her. The assumption isn't what does it; she's gotten that before after mentioning her rank. It's the next bit - "I'm sorry, I don't know those terms. I serve aboard a starship." Heads up, in-coming futuristic bombshell! ... Not literally.

A...starship? This gets Sariel stared at for a good long minute or two before one dark eyebrow starts to very slowly raise. Gene will deal with that in a second. For now, he'll stick to what he knows.

Another moment of silence passes 'fore the medic carefully tilts his head to the side. " The only ship Gene knows are the two that took him a.)to England and b.) from Normandy back to England.

Oooops, blunder central! By the embarrassment that replaces the sober look on Sariel's face as that dark eyebrow rises, she knows full well she's just stuck her foot soundly in her mouth. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to surprise you like that." She sounds truly apologetic--if she broke his brain, she's going to feel downright horrible about it. The explanation of the Navy terminology gets a distracted nod of understanding. Oh, that's what that is.

"You could say it's a little like War of the Worlds, but only a little." She's trying her best to clarify this in ways that won't be too foreign to him. "We're explorers, and only soldiers if we need to be. I'm a pilot."

Milliways has gone past the limits of making everything foreign to Eugene Roe. He thought jumping from airplanes with a sheet to his back was going to be the kicker- this just pushed it way down the list.

Again Roe stands there quietly studying the other- much much younger- woman before giving one small laugh. And then a slightly shy small smile.

That one, Sariel can relate to. The surprises thing, not the parachute thing. "I understand that very well. The day after I got here, I met an admiral who is a legend in my time, and a woman with purple skin." She won't mention Mouse's origins for now; one bombshell at a time.

Learning from the second World War? That's a tricky one. It's a long second before Sariel answers, sounding more thoughtful than she does certain. "I like to think we have."

People called it the War to end all Wars. Of course, Gene's learned now that there was at least 3 more that people will mention to him since then. Call it a false sense of hope in a way.

Eyeing the lake once he glances down at his hand that's seeming to shake and feel worse again. The urge to pull another syrette out is starting to make his mouth go dry so the medic tries to unsnap one of the canteens from its pouch.

Sariel's looking suddenly concerned over there. "Are you sure you're alright? Do you need--" she gestures toward that canteen with one hand; she'll help, if help is wanted. What she says next might simply be meant to fill the silence between her query and his answer. "The woman in the infirmary was blue, a friend of mine is purple, and someone I've just recently met is green." Ah colors, lovely distractions. Maybe.

Different colored skin- red, blue, green, yellow, orange..usually ment something bad in Gene's time. So seeing someone perfectly healthy with them is just enough to make the medic boggle in confusion. Of course, he's not going to try to let that show.

Gene fuses and fumbles with the pouch finally getting it open and the canteen out. "No," he says back in his English words, frowning a little to deeply for a man of 24. His eyes are tight as he tries to unscrew the lid. "Jus' a lil sore is all."

Turning green and orange and purple generally means something icky's gone down in Sariel's world as well, or at least it does when the wearer of the strange colors is baseline human. Take these *scratch* red dots on dark arms, for instance. If not? That's another situation entirely.

The shift back to English makes her blink in confusion, but she answers in kind all the same. "If you change your mind--" but she doesn't crowd him. That'd just be rude.

And the switch back to his Cajun coated French is just as confusing.

Gene eyes the hives carefully and frowns. He'd never known a goo or whatever it was to cause something like that before. Of cours, being in the Army, he had all the shots that no doubt was good enough to keep it from happening to him if he ever contacted it.

The switch back catches her again, and causes a second's silence, but no longer than that. "It's alright, they should go away soon. Whatever that was they fired at us--" and there's a grimace to match her tone. She's not touching the *why* of the attack, let alone the 'hopefully' that's implied at the end of her sentence. "If nothing else, I'll have a second shower. It can't hurt."

The why behind the attack could almost make Gene chuckle if he sat and thought about it for long enough. Instead the medic just frowns like he usually does.

Pauseing once he glances back up at the door.

"I *hope* it's better inside now, I'm bound." She sounds downright rueful here--doesn't it just figure her door disappeared and dropped her in a brawl? whether the door knew about the impending brawl... well. The multiverse may never know.

Sariel flicks a second momentary glance over her shoulder toward the bar proper, then away again. If she thinks too much about the why of the attack it will either make her laugh or give her a lapful of research to do, if not both. That's for later, in any case.

Gene winces. Being Bound was not fun, or so he was told. His first and only experience with it wasn't so bad.

From what the medic understood, there was always a reason.

"To quote one of my superior officers, I wish I knew." Sariel sounds nothing at all like Geordi, but the tone of the words is at least right. "This is the second time I've been bound. The first was when I found Milliways for the first time, and I admit that I needed it. This time though..." she shrugs to illustrate her point, or lack thereof. No idea. "Maybe there will be a reason. Or there is, and I don't know it."

Gene isn't sure if Will ever got his door back or not. He was thankful that his own was only gone for a few days.

With a small smile he actually gives a very small, yet weak, chuckle.

Well whadaya know, they've got a mutual friend. "The one who--oh! He's a friend of yours?" There's a smile turning up the corners of her mouth here too, though it's not as wide as it would have been had Will not been in a towering temper the last time she'd seen him. "He's also a friend of mine. Will is the first person I met after I found this place. And... I forgive him for falling on me, that goo was slippery. I just... wish he hadn't reacted like he did." As in gone off and swung at people, that is.

Gene explains, frowning towards the door leading back inside as he talks.

For Will's sake he hoped he was right.

That gets a headtilt, and a considering look. From the thoughtful expression, it's fairly clear Sariel doesn't tend to think of will as younger than herself. That may have just changed, however.

"I'd imagine the man he... serves under... could do that." Because how else do you describe Robin Hood? "I don't know if he's ever found the bar, though."

Depending on the situation and the mood, Will was either younger or older than the 1940's paratrooper. Generally the medic went by Milliways in the effect of age. He being 24 and Will being just a teen.