(no subject)

[sticktothemission]

 Uggggh. 

Gabriel staggers into the bar and looks momentarily startled when he realizes he's in Milliways. As quickly as he can he slams the Door shut behind him. He's been trapped in the medical wing for almost two weeks dealing with the side effects of this last round of treatments. He looks thinner than the last time he was here, dark circles under his eyes and skin a little ashy looking. His facial hair has grown out though it's unkempt and bushy. His clothes, at least, are fresh, a pair of plaid pajama pants and a surgical gown with a blanket wrapped over his shoulders.

He makes his way to the nearest booth and slumps down into it, waving over a waitrat. "Hey, whatever that shit the docs have me on, Bar should know, but better tasting. Thanks." 

Comments

[messwiththebest]

Is that a face that Sombra recognizes from old medical records?

Could be.

And if so, that will go a long way to explaining why she is carefully -- and thoroughly -- remaining out of sight.

[sticktothemission]

It's probably younger depending on which old medical records. No scars either.

The rat squeaks and scurries off. Gabriel lets out a sigh and leans his head back against the back of the booth, shutting his eyes. It's nice to be away from the antiseptic smell.

[messwiththebest]

He'll find his tab paid off, whenever he next goes to check.

And, because she really cannot help herself, if he asks who did it, he'll get a purple sugar skull in response.

[sticktothemission]

He doesn't know what to make of that. He doesn't think he knows anyone here that would use such a symbol; it seems too cute for anyone he's met.

The return note reads: Thanks. Guess I owe you one.

[childofrebellion]

Cassian pushes open the door with a sigh then realizes its Milliways not the hotel where he's been staying. Carefully he looks around to see who's around before slowly entering, the change in temperature is nice, he's been on a planet that's too humid and his ribs still ache.

He's in his black leather jacket with a canvas bag across his body hiding his blaster. When he's looking for a place to sit, he spots Gabriel who looks bad and sits in the same booth, before the rat leaves he asks, "Could I get some water and something not made with fish?"

[sticktothemission]

The rat squeaks and makes a little bow before taking off.

Gabriel offers Cassian a weak wave.

[childofrebellion]

"Escape from the medbay?"

He can't imagine Gabriel choosing to be moving around dressed like that if he hadn't. In the booth, he works to find a comfortable way to sit but he's been sitting and watching in places that haven't helped his ribs.

[sticktothemission]

He nods slowly. "Temporarily. What happened to you?"

[childofrebellion]

"Got caught in the middle of a bar fight. When do they let you out?"

All technically true, it was just most of the fight was aimed at him. When the rat returns with the mixture for Gabriel, there's water and painkillers for Cassian along with a large plate of nachos.

[sticktothemission]

Gabe runs a hand over his face. "Should be soon," he says, grabbing what looks like a chocolate smoothie. He takes a cautious sip and nearly smiles in relief. Bless Bar. "Getting better every day."

[childofrebellion]

"You are?"

Its a gentle question because he doesn't look better. In Cassian's experience thin is never a good thing, but he can't imagine any army starving their men.

[sticktothemission]

"Should've seen me a week ago," he grunts, taking another sip. He still had a fluid line in him then.

[childofrebellion]

"Kriff, what happened?" He can't see any obvious injuries.

[sticktothemission]

He shrugs one shoulder. "Docs said my GI is producing too much stuff. It's coming back down to normal levels."

He understands most of what the scientists are saying, he thinks, but that's basically what it boils down too.

[childofrebellion]

"Oh, good. Are they restricting what you can eat?"

The smoothie looks decent but like it would get boring after a while. Cassian's enjoying the nachos, he's glad of a change in his diet.

[cutting_edgex23]

"You are sick."

It's almost not a question.

X slides into a seat across from him, head tilting as she studies his ashy-looking face.

[sticktothemission]

He raises his head once at her in a reverse nod. "Hey, X. Better than I was."

[cutting_edgex23]

She studies him a little longer, silently.

Then --

"I do not think that is saying much."

[sticktothemission]

He winces a little. "That bad, huh?"

His reaction has not been the worst, thank God. At least he's still in the program.

[cutting_edgex23]

"You smell," X offers.

"It is strange."

[sticktothemission]

He considers that, eyebrows raised. Cautiously, "Is that an ability or a hint that I need a shower?" Cos either could be true.

If she can smell that he has just recently gotten over some severe GI upset he is really sorry about that.

He's also been hypoglycemic but we're unsure if that has an odor.

[cutting_edgex23]

High cholesterol doesn't really have an odor and X can smell it, so hypoglycemia probably does, too. All biochemistry is pretty detectable to X. Context is key.

"I am not good at telling the difference. Unless other people are reacting, too."

[sticktothemission]

"Not that I've seen," he replies. The ward's kind been bleached to hell and back, though, so he's not certain anyone could tell. He is briefly grateful he changed into fresh clothes and that if he does smell bad she doesn't seem to care. She sat down after all.

The rat returns with a smoothie that smells of chocolate, sugar, and all the other things a growing hypoglycemic super soldier in the making needs. "Thanks." He happily takes a sip.

[cutting_edgex23]

The rat chitters, skittering off again. They will return shortly with a root beer float.

X is predictable.

"No one is making faces here, either."

In case he worried.

[sticktothemission]

"Heh. Good to know." He was a little worried. No one wants to be known as 'that stinky guy'.

"Bar been quiet?" He's been out for two weeks but he's not sure how much time has passed here.