milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Shephard comes into the Bar from a round of prepping the Borealis for its trip to Svalbard, he catches sight of a poster.

The words he uses are brief, and Dutch; pleuris verdomme! seemed a more appropriate response to news of an airborne disease than his usual choice of vocabulary.

Oh well. This is why he still carries and maintains and uses his HECU-issued mask. It's face-tight enough to keep out pretty much anything. He'll be out back for a run with several of his houndeyes, mask and helmet and backpack full of rocks and all, if anyone needs him. The mask will come off briefly when he comes inside. Can't drink coffee through gear like that, after all.

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Jay's curled up in the corner nursing a big mug of something that might be coffee but seems very alcoholic. And a very large box of tissues. He nods to Shephard and sniffs. "Very wise, mate. You don't want this shit."

"Ain't much point in owning an M40 if I ain't gonna use it for my own health," Shephard says; his voice is muffled by the mask, but understandable. "How bad you got it?"

"If I start looking over my shoulder for a guy called Sam, just slap me." Jay sniffles. Although that pick-me-up he get from being Dean helps.

"Sam, got it," says Shephard. "Shit. I ain't got a goddamn thing that'll make somethin' like this go away faster, or I'd say I owed you for that cold weather gear."

"Yeah, seems to be the brother of the other voice in my head right now." Jay mutters, shaking his head and trying to quash another round of sneezing.

He waves that comment away. "You don't owe me shit, mate. As long as it comes in handy. How's the mission going."

"Leavin' port soon as I see Bumi here again," says Shephard. "Ain't no point in stickin' around while there's a plague goin' on."

"Yeah and you don't want this plague on your ship. Everything ready to go?"

"Oh yeah," says Shephard. "We ain't gonna have to sail too far. Ship's got a teleport built in, but it ain't all that precise, so I reckon we're gonna wind up in the middle of a shitload of pack ice'n have to break through to the shore. Good thing the fuckers who built it reinforced it for icebreaking."

"So they just what, dump the ship somewhere and you make your own way from there? Sounds like a right pain."

Edited 2014-02-05 05:13 (UTC)

"Naw, the ship teleports with us," says Shephard. "Only we got to be careful, on account of the first time she did it, she took half the dock with her. Borealis teleports up to a couple miles out from Longyearbyen harbor, we crack through the ice to git in, we moor if we can'n anchor if we can't, then we go ashore'n see 'bout any abandoned snowmobiles that might still work. Take 'em if they do, walk if they don't. Ship'll be there when we git back."

Jay starts to say something but loses it in a fit of coughs. "Sure you've..." splutter, cough, "got enough gear?"

"Yep. Did a couple inventories to be sure," says Shephard. "Brought a pretty fair selection of lock picks'n electronic lock crackers for the vault doors, too, and my second officer's damn good with real carefully targeted explosives if that don't do the trick."

"Sounds like everything you need to crack a door open. If you think of anything else you need, let me know."

"Will do," promises Shephard. "How 'bout you? Been holdin' up okay?"

"I have three holes in my chest, two cracked ribs and a flu that makes me think I'm some emotionally retarded demon-hunter." He takes a sip of his drink. "Other than that, I'm peachy."

[OOC: Ack! Sorry I didn't respond, I completely lost track of several of my tags.]

Shephard considers this. "Think I might have some of the shit our medics use to git folks healin' faster, if y'don't mind it comin' out of a dead alien bug," he says. "Won't do shit for your flu but it'll put your ribs back together right quick."

"I can live with dead bug if it means not waking up in the middle of the night screaming because I've rolled onto the wrong side."

[ooc: no worries. I know how these things can go.]

"Gimme a minute, then," Shephard says. "My bottle's upstairs."

He returns a little while later with an alarmingly yellow-green vial in his gloved hand. "We call this shit bug juice," he says, "and it tastes like foot, if you're lucky. But fuck me if it don't fix damn near anything the body's got capacity to heal from, only fast enough to watch it happen."

Jay eyes the evilly coloured liquid. "So do I drink it or...what?"

"Yep. Straight from the bug it ain't much good 'cept for direct contact with a wound, but this here's been refined'n filtered to the point of bein' drinkable," Shephard says. "Saved my ass a couple times."

"How much should I take?" He'd rather be sure before he drinks more than he should.

"For broken ribs?" Shephard glances at the vial. "Top third ought to do it. It'll heal up most of your injuries at least partway, maybe more- it's gonna feel weird as fuck while it happens, but it beats bein' in pain, I reckon."

He should ask about the 'weird as fuck' side effects but he doesn't want to sound ungrateful. "Bottoms up." He toasts before drinking the suggested amount. He coughs. "Yeah, you won't wrong about the taste!"

"'Fraid not," Shephard says. "It's gonna git to feelin' like you got a sneeze brewin' in parts of your body that ain't your nose for a while now. That's the best I c'n come up with for what it feels like when that shit gits to work."

"If is does the job." Jay mutters, starting to feel just such a sneeze feeling building. "Think it might be worth locking myself in my room for a while. At least till this and the bloody flu have run their course."

He holds a hand out to Shephard. "Thanks mate."

Shephard leans over to shake the offered hand, or fistbump instead if that seems more suitable. "Any time," he says. "You git better now, y'hear?"

Fistbump works just fine. "I'll do my best. And you stay safe, hey? I'll see you round."

(ooc: fade there? Thank you. I do love these two.)

[OOC: Sounds good to me! And thank you for the thread.]

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