milliways_bar | (no subject)

[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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

For her part, Sariel could act older, younger, or darn close to her own twenty-three. It depended on day and situation, more often than not. "I don't know of anyone else from my ship who knows about Milliways. I'd like to bring a friend of mine here, at some point--a few friends, really, but one more than anything. She'd love it here." And for a second, one could say that half-smile Sariel's wearing is downright sappy. aww. Just a friend, yeah, sure.

Sadly, a lot of the people that Gene knows from Easy are in the bar. Most of them officers and making him rather uncomfortable- sort of like when he met Nathan Petrelli. That man could give Winters and Sobel a run for their money.

Chuckling again he reaches out and rubs at his left arm with stiff fingers.

"Here? For me it was the door to the ship's dining room that led me here, the first time. It's turned up on our bridge, and in my quarters more than once, and one night it was in my bathroom." That question doesn't mean what you think it means. Or does it?

And Nathan Petrelli could give just about anyone a run for their money, with the possible exception of Lieutenant Worf. That one's up in the air.

It's a very, very small smile that Gene manages. So far all his access to Milliways was through tent flaps.

The smile that answers is closer to half of one than the real thing, given the overall seriousness of the night, but at least it's there. "Good luck, with that. I mean it."

The smile that Gene takes on is a true smile. Not one of those little half things that he usually musters for people he knows or interacts with. It's an honest to God smile.

Reaching out he offers Sariel his hand.

That hand is taken and shaken, if gently. "Nice to have met you too, Gene." She only switches back to English after a second's silence and a glance toward the bar that lingers. "Hopefully it's as calm in there now as we hoped before."