MEDBAY CATCH-ALL | NOVEMBER

[bloodplay]

CHARACTERS: EVERYBODY. Are you working in the Medical department? Are you sick? Do you need shrapnel dug out of your arm? Are you going in for a check-up? Are you visiting someone? Are you grabbing some space tampons? Are you just here to bitch about how terrible the Medbay coffee is? Get in here.
LOCATION: the Medbay & its adjoining areas (gravity couches; locker room; morgue; wherever the hell the psych department is; SHOWERS?)
WARNINGS: Sick or injured people who may or may not be tripping off their medication? Also, whatever gross weirdos happen to be in Medbay at the time.
SUMMARY: It's a catchall Medbay post!! For characters to interact within the setting of Medical and do whatever the hell they want, set during the entire span of vague, nebulous space November. That is really all there is to this.
NOTES: This is really just a general catchall post for things people might not want to set up separate logs for, plus an excuse for open log mingling shenanigans. If you want to specify when in the month things take place, feel free to put it in your subject line! The same goes for whether or not the thread is locked to certain characters.

Upon leaving stasis, just beyond the gravitation chamber, you'll find the open space of Medbay. This department is equipped to perform entirely independent of human involvement, but as time has passed you'll find that medical is now attended by your fellow passengers, operating on a series of shift rotations. Not unlike the other specialties, medical is equally susceptible to loss and appears consistently in need of volunteer assistance. Admittance to the bay at large is dependent upon security clearance. For example, all passengers will be able to access bandages, low level pain medication and the like, assistants will be able to access equipment to assess a patient's vitals, and doctors will have access to controlled substances and patient medical files.

Within medical there are numerous beds and consoles to monitor the status of patients who have been admitted. Due to advances in medical technology, passengers can expect that injuries and illness will heal at an accelerated rate. Breaks and fractures, for example, will recover within a fraction of the time that would typically be expected. Rows of cabinets contain all the necessities you would expect to find in a hospital facility. Alongside the basics there are also decontamination chambers, quarantine rooms, and surgical facilities. The entire area gives a distinct impression of cleanliness and sterilization, though on closer examination, given the handful of items that have gone missing, it looks as though someone left in a hurry...

Comments

OPEN

[herosfather]

[this isn't the first time Stilinski's shown up down in medical. it might be because, in the grand scheme of things, he isn't sure how to help. not as far as Security is concerned, he understands that, but when you're a new face to a place that is far beyond what you've ever understood, it leaves you feeling a little displaced.

anything familiar has been scarce for him. he can't understand the kids from Beacon Hills, can't do background checks on the people they're palling around with. even his own son is a mystery.

but he can understand the need for medical and the need to keep it safe, so he falls back on that for the time being. with people flying off the handle left right and centre, he figures if he can't do anything else, he can do this.

the sheriff's hands are in his pockets when the doors hiss open, admitting him to the space.]

[blasphemous]

[For the record, Meg doesn't need medical treatment. She is however, mostly curious about the ones that do need medical treatment. Apparently, the masks that everyone seems to be worried about are definitely causing some ... issues. Being on a ship, being pushed into psychosis by an inanimate object -- all things that land you in medical.

She's lied her way into a position of influence before with a medical staff, so it's not difficult to guess that she's managed to go undetected for the most part. Asking questions on occasion and just watching whatever she can see.

Meg is on her way out, when she bumps into someone.]

Probably not smart of me to nearly give someone a concussion on my way out of medical, is it?

[herosfather]

[Stilinski's hand shoots forward out of reflex, grabbing the woman by her arms to steady her. the number of times he's been bumped into on this ship would almost concern him; there was more than enough space to go around. then again, maybe there was just too much of it. or just that people had so much on their minds they weren't paying attention.

not really a good sign, in his opinion.]

You didn't hit me that hard. [he says with a crooked smile, letting her go.] You alright?

after a while of sipping on shitty space coffee;

[glom]

[ Likely, the Sheriff has been in Medical for a while- he's certainly been there for as long as Emily has been ghosting around the entrance to medical. Even if she couldn't spot a bull from a mile away, which she's pretty good at, the gee's been here far too long to be anything but the scheduled security detail. A natural aversion to authority, borne of being a teenager first and foremost, her current... situation a close second, has kept her from slinking into the too-bright area she'd slipped out of upon sliding out of that goo-filled tube however many days ago. She's been by medical two other times, but hasn't mustered up the gumption to do much more than hang around the outside and disappear when the risk of being noticed gets too high.

Of course, stealth is mostly Brendan's thing, so her rather obvious multiple pass-by's infront of the doors, checking to see if the older man has found himself something else to do, is most probably attracting attention.

For about the sixth time in twenty minutes, a exceedingly persuasive part of her details why she should turn around and head right back down the hall she came from. But, every time she goes to do so, her stomach twists up, this way and that, and she's left out in the hallway feeling very much like a child who has been coerced into telling the truth by her unruly conscience. With her generally transparent demeanor, and a few other, significantly weightier things dragging on her mind, she very much looks the part. ]

[herosfather]

[the sheriff would have to be blind not to notice her, after all of his years in the service. he was an observant man, something necessary to do the job he did. he'd dealt with craftier kids, his own included, than the girl constantly ghosting to and from medical.

it gets to the point that he doesn't need to look up to know she's there, but when she finally stops to loiter he decides to say something. there's only so often she can swing by, spot him, and take off before he can no longer give her the benefit of the doubt.

he'd been warned about the people up here. just because you were a kid didn't make you harmless. he'd seen that enough times. so he sets down his freshly emptied coffee mug and walks straight toward her.]

OPEN

[wolfinthesnow]

[Jon doesn't know about modern medicine, but the bite that Summer gave him is red and shiny, and he knows what an infected wound looks like. At Castle Black he would have gone to a Maester, but here it is the doctors who treat such things.

He's clearly looking for someone to help him, holding his wounded arm with his opposite hand]

[invalided]

[ As it happens, John is one of the members of the profession of looking after people who come looking for help.

He'll just make a path over towards mister New Patient, already shooting a look down at Jon's arm.

Well. It's not a bullet wound and the arm's not falling off, so it seems things are looking up. ]

Hello, I'm Doctor Watson. I can take you, if you're not waiting on anybody already.

[wolfinthesnow]

Hello, Doctor. My name is Jon Snow.

[He has a respectful tone in his voice, he knows Doctors know much, like Maesters]

My brother's wolf bit me. Can you help me?

AS OPEN AS IT IS LATE AND OVERLONG

[bloodplay]

[AND SPEAKING OF GROSS WEIRDOS WHO'RE IN THE MEDBAY. Brian may not (and in fact, with one notable exception, definitely does not) give a shit about the wellbeing of anyone else on the Tranquility, but work is work! And work is also, particularly now, a welcome distraction from the increasingly prevalent need he's been tamping down ever since arriving here. It's not particularly engaging, but until he finds some kind of project -- above board or (ideally) not -- mindnumbing busywork will have to do.

This works decently enough except when Dexter's shifts happen to overlap with his, in which case everything immediately becomes beyond terrible. Anyway, here's an array of options for shit he might be doing in Medical at any given time. Choose your own adventure! They are all awful.]

A
[Brian's been working on makeshift prefab prosthetics ever since he gained a modicum of access to the engineering department and their raw materials; his motivation stems less from any actual necessity and more from the fact that it's something to do. This means that, ever so often, this grown-ass man will literally just walk in with legs tucked under his arms, and occasionally those arms tucked under his actual arms, on his way to the equipment area where he'll inevitably stash them. Right now, whenever that happens to be, is one of those times! While he tries his best to be conscientious when carting around artificial limbs, it's always possible he might knock into someone on the way. Which would totally be an accident, man. Totally.]

B
[Similarly, if he just so happens to be taking a hell of a lot of inventory in areas that happen to include the less savory equipment Medbay has to offer -- scalpels, bone saws, rib spreaders, etc. -- he clearly just happens to be there and particularly bored! That is all that's happening. Definitely. To Brian's credit, Medical can be pretty spectacularly uninteresting when there's nobody there to see to, and even as he goes through the cabinets he's relatively attentive to his surroundings. Should anyone come in or walk past, he'll almost immediately redirect his attention towards giving them a cordial greeting, or making sure they don't start to bleed from the eyes. Or both.]

C
[It's hard to tell, given the circumstances, what really counts as a graveyard shift, since despite the standardized time one man's early morning could easily be another man's late night. Still, there's a certain method to their scheduling madness, and either way it's only logical to make more coffee once the communal pot runs out. Caffeinate unto others as you would have them caffeinate unto you.

For Brian, this is definitely an early morning. He's been keeping strange hours and waking up early for the last few weeks, both of which he's wont to do normally; eventually, though, that sleep debt has to catch up with even the most vigorously red-blooded of serial killers. Though he's alert enough, his hair is slightly more terrible than usual and he's holding his empty mug like it's a lifeline, back pressed against the nearest wall, as he waits for the slow and tortuous process of percolation to finally come to an end.

By the doors that lead to the morgue. Normal.]

Option A

[logicunlocked]

[ It's unfortunate, perhaps, that York doesn't think to scan the area before attempting to cross the threshold of the medical department. Evidently the person who slammed into him from his left wasn't aware that York was blind in that eye. It definitely doesn't help that the left side of his head is throbbing with a hangover-induced migraine; ironic, since he normally wouldn't resort to the medbay for something as simple as a headache. This one was a real killer, though, and he'd almost had trouble getting here at all because it's hard to keep his good eye open wider than a slit.

He groaned a little, and put his hand to his head as he stepped back a couple of paces--despite the fact that whatever-it-was had hit his torso, the jarring effect to his head was of most concern. He forced his right eye to open and looked at the person who had apparently materialized there. ]

Might want to watch where you're going; not everybody is so privileged.

[bloodplay]

[Brian, indeed, was not aware of this! He was also somewhat distracted by his angry manbaby thoughts and walking on autopilot, but that's neither here nor there, and regardless of how events transpired he just bumped into this dude, and York just got a prosthetic kick in the stomach. Colliding with someone isn't exactly painless either, and there's a soft "oof" on his part, immediately supplanted by some apologetic but apparently genuine concern. It's fake, like most every decent emotion he projects, but it's an expertly-crafted fake -- and this guy really does look like a mess.]

Jesus, I'm sorry. Kind of lost myself for a second there. [He backs up, shifting the single prosthesis he's carrying so as to be immediately visible to York (should he want to keep his eyes open) and scrutinizing his face with a sort of well-practiced acumen. When he next speaks, it's in a lower and more modulated voice.] But, ah, since we're here -- anything I can get for you? Unless you already know your way around.

hope this is okay for C?!

[ironsights]

[ it's probably a stupid thing to do. no -- this most definitely a stupid thing to do. kazama's scowling as he stumbles into the medical bay at some ridiculous hour in the morning, hand pressed against his ribcage, breaths coming in soft pants. it's been a few days since he's had a few ribs broken, and it's out of sheer stubborn will that he's managed to avoid the medical bay thus far. (stubborn will, and the fact that he doesn't trust anyone enough to show them that he's injured.) pain, he can deal with. the shortness of breath and ache all throughout his midriff, he can ignore.

but the fact that it feels like one of his ribs is healing improperly -- the area aching something awful at even the slightest touch -- is something he can't ignore. and that's what forces kazama to finally show up at the medical bay for -- well. anything that would help. painkillers, maybe.

when kazama leans against the doorframe and peeks in, the medical bay seems mostly empty, which is a good thing. last thing he wants at the moment is to bump into too many people. footsteps padding quietly against the floor, kazama cautiously makes his way through the med bay until he spots someone lurking in the back near the coffee maker. speaking up at a soft deadpan: ] -- you're a doctor?

BEYOND OKAY, TBH

[bloodplay]

[he's so out of it he doesn't even notice kazama's presence, which should be second nature to someone like brian; by the time he hears the footsteps and turns his head, he's almost on top of him. his expression doesn't change, but a new sense of alertness flushes through him instantly, perhaps more effective than the coffee he's been waiting for.]

Medical officer, [he says, low but not nearly as deadpan, though the airquotes are audible. both his volume and the humor in his voice take a slight jump as he continues talking. it's like gaining momentum, but with lying bullshit!] Kind of the diet cola of doctors, here, but we get by. [he pushes himself off the wall and stands straight and upright, turning to face him (someone he doesn't recognize, he notes) and get a better look at what exactly he's here for. he looks him over, calmly taking in the placement of his hand, the way his shoulders are moving as he breathes. his eyebrows rise, but there's nothing judgmental about it.]

But that's not important. How can I help?

B

[invalided]

[ It's so rare to see people out on inventory and not looking like they were forcibly volunteered. Then again, all his latest work experience was on an island with much more awkward supplies. Could be a generally different experience out here. ]

...hello.

[bloodplay]

Hey yourself.

[He looks over, hands stilling where they are because working blind when there are scalpels involved is generally not a good idea, and gives a brief grin in Watson's direction. Even this is something developed over years of experience; quick and casual enough to seem uncontrived, but open, with a slight hint of crinkling around the eyes.]

It beats dealing with a real emergency, [he adds on, by way of explanation; then shrugs, raising his eyebrows with the ghost of the smile still lingering on his face, as if to say you know how it is.] Plus -- less messy. [...] Usually.

A

[doc_pompous]

[When Simon isn't seeing patients, he's trying to do some personal side-projects of his own, whether it's organizing, taking inventory, or analyzing different medications with the ultimate goal of improving River's treatments.

He's used to everyone sort of doing their own thing when there isn't anything else going on, but he has to admit he wasn't quite expecting fake limbs, and he dodges out of the way, leaning against a counter top to give Brian room to pass through.]

Prosthetics, huh?

[bloodplay]

Huh. [He smiles, slightly wry, as he ducks further out of Simon's path. Though he keeps his eyes on the empty cabinet that's his particular destination, Brian continues talking like this is a normal face-to-face conversation, his tone getting a little more matter-of-fact, because why not.] It's kind of a side project of mine. They're not exactly in high demand right now, but I'm guessing when someone does happen to need one they'd rather not deal with the wait.

always open

[invalided]

[ John Watson, forever mourning the loss of his 007 status, reporting for doctor duty nonetheless through the month.

A bit moreso than he might usually, past the 12th of the month. He's got a case of the left-the-ship Sherlock Holmes Who Came From the Same Place to be pushing down and working through, after all.

Generally available if needed, and he promises not to fall asleep on the job, too.

He's debating a Days Without Someone Nearly Getting Killed chart, one of these days. Only he thinks it might become horrible inspiration to someone instead of inspiring people to operate more safely. ]

ahhh hope this is okay

[wolfsmother]

[ it was only a matter of time before Melissa wound up here, really. call it old habits or maybe just being a glutton for punishment, medical is what she knows- and maybe for that reason the new tattoo on her arm and the sci that stares back at her are the most comfortable thing she could have.

she doesn't think that pair of scrubs showing up in that locker was really a coincidence either. space and irony. who knew.

when she enters the room it's with the curious balance of someone who belongs somewhere without actually ever having seen it before- but of everything there is to stare at because seriously what the hell were half of these tools, what is this star trek there's one thing that gets her attention first. ]

Wow.

[ look for the most miserable guy in medical and you'll find the doctor who has the best idea what's going on. ]

There really aren't enough coffee makers in here.

Have a random ancient Roman? :D?

[cl_cl_claudius]

[Claudius's intermittent attacks of stomach pain had been less frequent since arriving on the Tranquility, possibly due to the lack of available alcohol or rich food. But he'd had a bad one the night before, and since he'd been told by various people at various times that he ought to stop by Medical and see if "modern medicine" could do something the physicians of his day couldn't, he decided it was worth a try.

Accordingly, a middle-aged man in a toga - yes, really, a toga - comes limping through the door. He tilts heavily to one side as he walks, clutching one arm to his chest, and his head twitches spastically. But his eyes are bright with interest as he looks around at all the incomprehensible equipment.]

[theredchampion]

[ Niall would say that would indeed become horrible inspiration, and therefore would be unwise.

Unless, of course, it's entertainment you're looking for. In which case it's all well and good, and something to be recommended.

He looks decidedly dishevelled and lacking in sleep, even if that's a relatively normal state for him, and is slightly twitchy from nicotine withdrawal. Still, wasn't his idea to be here -- and he usually has some degree of self control. ]

Dr Watson.

[ There's a vague semblance of politeness about it, since he might as well start on the right foot. Even if he's unlikely to stay there for long. ]

We spoke on the network. My name is Red.

for aidan

[prima_facie]

[It's becoming a routine. Every few days someone comes in and lets the medical staff take blood from them. A few hours later, Cutler comes in and drinks it. He likes the separation, figures it makes things look better, and he doesn't care whose blood it is as long as it's human. He's drinking less than he normally would, but it's enough to keep the pangs of withdrawal away and that's what's important right now.

This evening he strolls in to find another vampire already there, probably waiting for his own fix. The face looks familiar- Cutler's seen him on the network before, but he can't pick vampires through the network (considering that vampires back home don't even show up in pictures it's never come up). He smiles his best friendly smile at the guy, coming over and leaning his hands on a nearby console]

I suppose we're here for the same thing, then. Do you know who's on duty tonight?

[he can totally do vampire smalltalk]

sorry this took so long. :T and that it's so short. oops.

[theheretic]

[ Aidan's spotting the other vampire right away, but he's not all that surprised. He's seen other vampires come through on a semi-regular basis--apparently, they've started a live-blood bank of sorts. Aidan's never taken any, of course. He's not about to out himself to the people who could decide in an instant that they don't want him around bleeding patients, and then what? He'd be out of his job, and insulted.

So when the vampire speaks to him, Aidan casually glances around to make sure it wasn't overheard. Then, with a little bit of a furrowed brow: ]

I am.

completely open to patients and staff alike

[verylittlesugar]

[ As Mattie has no way of knowing when there might be actual patients in Medbay and when it might be empty, she simply shows up when she has the free time. Which may be as often as twice a day, or as infrequently as once a week. Until someone tells her differently, or an obvious crisis takes place, she will continue to assume that keeping her own schedule is acceptable.

She has brought along a small supply of dried herbs from the gardens to add to the medicinal stores, on the off chance that they might do some good, and some that are useful simply for tea. The latter of which she will brew up in the event that someone has the ill fortune to be bed-bound at the moment.

If there is tea or soup to be fetched, linens to be changed, floors to be mopped, or any little errands to be run, Mattie is available to assist. ]

sob i hope this is okay

[bloodplay]

[Brian has essentially no opinion on Mattie other than the scant facts he's picked up over the period of time she's been volunteering; these are that she seems like a sensible, sober child, her schedule is erratic, and she has only one arm. Unsurprisingly, the last quality is what piques his interest, but he doesn't bring it up immediately, instead opting to take some time and determine whether or not it's the product of a more recent amputation. If the missing limb is a congenital deformity, she'll probably be used to working around its absence and feel no need for a cosmetic replacement, making his services largely irrelevant and any questions more invasive than helpful; not that he cares, but there's no need to rock the boat. If it's a newer development, on the other hand, he might actually have something to do for the next few weeks. After a period of casual observation, he settles on the latter option.

It's a slow day when he attempts to finally broach the question, though of course whatever Mattie happens to be doing is totally up to you because godmoding is bad, mmkay. Either way, he's calmly rearranging some crap in a cabinet when he notices her presence; his hands still, and he turns in her direction, speaking slightly louder than usual at first so as to grab her attention.]

Hey -- it's Mattie Ross, right? [This is a totally useless icebreaker (badumtish), as Brian's aware of her name and they've probably at least spoken in passing, but there's no reason to make his approach look calculated; either way, he's in high soft-spoken form today! It's something he's had to cultivate as part of his bedside manner, given his field -- politeness without deference, warmth without condescension.] Is this a bad time? There's something I've been meaning to ask you.