Danger - Amateaur Sports
Danger - Amateaur Sports
Summary: A game of unskilled pick-up b-ball goes slightly awry, as such things do.
Date: 10 BCH
Related Logs: None
Players:
Zaharis..Rhea..D'Artanion..Craven..Taylor..Greje..

Killing a little time after shift, Zaharis for once doesn't head over to consume half the Taproom's stock of liquor. He's here in the gym, having done his usual nightly run on the treadmill, and is now idly bouncing a basketball around the gym.

Rhea looks fresh off-shift herself. She strides out of the changing room in a pair of Navy sweats, fiddling with her hair to tighten her ponytail as she goes. The sound of the bouncing ball catches her attention. A faint smirk comes to her face when she spots Zaharis on the court. "They close the bar on you?" she teases.

Having finished what ever duty shift claimed his attention today, Craven decided to make his way down towards the gym. Slipping within, he heads over towards the changing rooms and when he emerges, he's clad in a simple pair of off duty fatigues. Lifting a hand, he rubs lightly at a shoulder before taking a look around. Spotting Zah first, and then Rhea, he offers a smile and a nod to each, "Doc. Ma'am." That said, he moves to one side, beginning to do a couple of stretches.

Greje comes in from Corridor 9D.
Greje has arrived.

"Whatever you're implying, Captain, I take grievous offense." Zaharis replies to Rhea without a hint of seriousness, still bouncing the basketball. The sound echoes over the gym walls. He looks over at Craven and lifts his chin to the medic. "How's it going, Craven?"

After a shortish while D'Artanion follows Rhea out of the changing room. She, too is wearing sweats now, but in a more Marineish hue than Navy. She seems a bit more relaxed than is typical, though those in the sickbay can attest to the fact that she has been there more than not. Her gait is fluid and easy, and her smile on spotting those already here is warm, "Lo, all." For her part, she opens a locker and takes out a pair of boxing gloves. Before pulling them on, she closes the locker and begins to do a few stretches of her own. The punching bag hanging nearby gets a baleful gaze and it is clear that she means to teach it a lesson or two.

"PO. Sarge," Rhea replies to Craven and D'Artanion, offering a nod and smile of acknowledgement to the both of them. She doesn't seem terribly concerned about the grievous emotional harm she may've caused Zaharis. "Imply? I never imply anything, Doctor. I just figured it'd take you a few months before you got yourself banned." Still teasing. Mostly. "You going to play anything with that ball or are you just trying to look impressive for the medics?"

"Why, you think you can take me?" Zaharis smirks at Rhea, taking the ball with both hands and throwing it over her way. "Or would you need to go grab your moonboots first?" He looks over at D'art and gives her a similar greeting to Craven, backing up a bit. "Same, you know. Got to smack down a few engineers here though, you know how they get all uppity."

D'Artanion finishes a set of stretches and is about to pull on the boxing gloves when Craven calls. She looks up, grinning, "Hey, Stitch. How're you?" Rising, she turns to wait for him and her attention turns to Rhea and Zaharis. A quick grin and she calles, "Do it, Rhea. You know you can take him." Her smile is easy, and her tone is almost gentle.

Rhea catches the ball, making a face at Zaharis. "Oh, was that a crack about my size? I'm not short! I'm wiry and agile." She gives the ball a few experimental bounces. "It's all physics. Force, motion, navigating around large, stationary masses…" She winks at Zaharis. "You guys want in on this?" She looks over at Craven and D'Artanion. "We could do…boys against girls. Or Superstar Zaharis could take us all on with his mad ball skills."

A shift of his attention back towards Zah and Craven offers a soft laugh, "I hear ya there, Doc." Then, he's falling quiet as D cheers on Rhea and he bahs softly, "You can take her, Doc. I'd put my bet in your corner." Then, he's looking back over towards Dart and offering a quirk of a smile, "Good enough, I suppose. And you? Havn't run into you lately." He blinks slightly and looks over towards Rhea and then to Zah and then D, before looking back to Rhea, "I'd probably be a handicap for the Doc."

Greje has herself set in some regulation-style sweats, as well, and has even switched her favored UC sweatshirt out for one bearing Genesis' logo. She floats in, gait smooth but timid, for the moment, though she gives Amalina a warm smile before her attention turns to the basketball game being organized. She hooks an arm behind her back, grabbing her opposite elbow as she saunters closer, watching with interest, but trying to be unobtrusive.

D'Artanion shrugs, "Been all right, I guess. Better, in some ways." She shifts a bit, redistributing her weight on both feet. "Pulled the evening shift for a while. You know." Her gaze lifts to where Zaharis stand and a grin begins, "Sure, Rhea. Love to." When Craven declines, she reaches over to thwap him in the shoulder lightly, "Come on, Stitch. You've gotta learn sometime. It's easy." Turning, she tucks the boxing gloves back into the locker. The punching bag has won a reprieve. Turning, she lifts a wave to Greje, then motions toward the basketball group, "Do you play?"

"Oh see yeah, she needs backup," Zaharis raises his hands as he moves backwards. "Struck the chord of fear in that grime-covered little heart." He grins, stretching out his arms as the others decide who's up.

Greje smiles warmly at Amalina, and gives a light laugh. "I -have- played," she admits, "Though I wouldn't say I -do- play, habitually," she explicates her situation gently and with precision.

"I will take you down so hard you'll need resuscitation, old man," Rhea continues to dig at Zaharis, bouncing the ball back at him. The gauntlet is down. Oh yes. It is. She offers a grin to Craven. "Jesse only handicaps himself. That's the way it's always been. Don't sweat it." A polite nod is offered to Greje. If it's not quite as relaxed as her greetings to the others, it's nothing too cool.

There's a mock expression of pain as Dart thwaps him on the shoulder, though Craven offers a soft laugh in response, "You, of all people Amalina, know that I've never been big on sports." He's looking back over towards Rhea, his head canting ever so slightly to the side before a grin plays across his lips, "I'd prefer he didn't need resuscitation. I fear that might cause a little more paperwork in Sickbay then I'd want to see. And you havn't seen me play, yet. I'd probably make the Doc look like a star."

Zaharis catches the bouncing ball, dribbling twice. "Come on with the talking. What are we, a bunch of JAGs?" He grins, passing the ball from hand to hand. "Whoever's in better get in. Choose your side, choose your doom." And with that he's headed towards Rhea's side with the ball. Oh no!

<Opposed Roll> Zaharis - Agility versus Rhea - Agility
<Roll1> Zaharis: Terrible <Roll2> Rhea: Mediocre
<Result> Rhea WINS by 2.

D'Artanion turns to run backwards as she speaks to Craven, "Yeah, I know, Stitch. But, you might's well learn. It's good exercise and after spending all that time in sickbay, it'd be good for us." With a jump, skip she turns around and nods to Greje, "Come on in. We can split between us if Stitch won't play. Pick your poison… CMO or ChEng?"

Greje laughs lightly again, lifting one hand to her head, "Go on, Stitch, why don't you go play with Jesse," she encourages him. "I'll be here in case you need someone to tag in," she chuckles, folding her arms and settling back to watch.

"Alright, alright," Rhea says, cracking her knuckles and positioning herself opposite the CMO. Grudge match of the 30-plus-year-old rear echelon department heads. Having medics on hand is probably best. To Craven, she grins. "Don't worry. I've watched my husband mop the floor with the good doctor *plenty* of times." One would assume her husband is at least a little taller than the ChEng, but she doesn't dwell on such details. She /does/ manage to snag the ball as Zaharis heads past her, though it's not what you'd call an impressive steal. Middle-aged pick-up ball at it's 'finest.'

<Opposed Roll> Rhea - Agility versus Zaharis - Agility
<Roll1> Rhea: Great <Roll2> Zaharis: Mediocre
<Result> Rhea WINS by 3.

"Your husband plays foul." Zaharis calls after Rhea as she zooms off with the ball. "He throws folders like frakkin ninja stars!" He darts in, trying to snag the ball back, but the effort's thwarted and he goes chasing after the ChEng.

There's a soft laugh and Craven shakes his head, first to Greje and then to Rhea, "Thanks, but I'll pass. 'fraid I won't be here long enough to really make a game worthwhile for my teammate, so it's best I just sit out and watch for now." Then, he's looking over towards D long enough to stick his tongue out at her, "Excercise. Pfft. Go on, I'll stand back and watch to see who makes a fool out of who right off the bat."

<Opposed Roll> Zaharis - Agility versus Rhea - Agility
<Roll1> Zaharis: Good <Roll2> Rhea: Mediocre
<Result> Zaharis WINS by 2.

<Opposed Roll> D'artanion - Agility versus Zaharis - Agility
<Roll1> D'artanion: Fair <Roll2> Zaharis: Fair
<Result> DRAW!

"Never frak with a Logistics man. They will paper-cut your ass," Rhea says with a laugh as she runs down the court. She takes a shot, but the doctor is there to block it. And she's well short of her range to make the hoop, anyway. ChEng can't jump.

Zaharis jumps at the same time as Rhea, knocking the ball out of the air and back over her head. He laughs and smirks, running after it…apparently at the same time as D'art. Crap.

D'Artanion cheers Rhea's steal, then winces when the doc blocks the shot. Sidestepping a little, she watches where it arches he blocks Rhea's shot. Turning, she runs to try and intercept as Jesse heads that way as well. Frak.

<Opposed Roll> Zaharis - Agility versus D'artanion - Agility
<Roll1> Zaharis: Fair <Roll2> D'artanion: Superb
<Result> D'artanion WINS by 3.

The ball goes flying between Zaharis and D'artanion and the CMO spins around, making a sprint for it. But the Marine is there before he can blink, and he snorts, getting ready to chase after. "What IS this? I'm getting ganged over here!"

Greje spots Jesse in trouble and, since his teammate is sitting this one out, she bounces onto the balls of her feet and onto the court, a little awkward from not having stretched but eventually her muscle memory kicking in as she remembers the way the game feels and darts low after Amalina to try to steal the ball back, oing to pivot in her path.

Greje spots Jesse in trouble and, since his teammate is sitting this one out, she bounces onto the balls of her feet and onto the court, a little awkward from not having stretched but eventually her muscle memory kicking in as she remembers the way the game feels and darts low after Amalina to try to steal the ball back, going to pivot in her path.

"Don't act like you don't like it!" Rhea calls to Zaharis, keeping up her run more-or-less opposite D'Artanion. In case the medic wants to pass. Or fake. Or do some other piece of b-ball strategy. "Nice take, Sergeant!" She grins, obviously feeling she got the better part of this teaming.

<Opposed Roll> Greje - Sports versus D'artanion - Sports
<Roll1> Greje: Fair <Roll2> D'artanion: BeyondTerrible
<Result> Greje WINS by 4.

Taylor comes in from Corridor 9D.
Taylor has arrived.

<Opposed Roll> Greje - Sports versus D'artanion - Agility
<Roll1> Greje: Good <Roll2> D'artanion: Poor
<Result> Greje WINS by 3.

There's a soft laugh as the events begin to unfold and then, there's a soft beep from somewhere on Craven's person. A frown crosses his lips and he rises from his spot on the sidelines, casting a glance back over towards those playing the game before he turns to move over towards the exit.

D'Artanion snags the ball and bounce-runs it a ways up the court. She gives Rhea a thumbs up, and in doing so entirely misses Graje's entrance onto the court. Turning to look forward, she is almost on top of the other woman and backpedals to avoid a collision and thereby loses control of the ball, "Ah… frak."

Craven has left.

"Did I say I didn't?" Zaharis calls back to Rhea with a smirkish grin. He pumps his fists in the air as Greje heads after D'artanion, heading that way at a run. "Go go!"

Greje halts, pivots, and with a thrust of her arms away from her chest tosses the ball in a neat pass to Jesse.

Rhea smirks back at Zaharis, though the entry of Greje into the game makes her blink. She shoots a wide-eyed look at D'Artanion. Chaplain can play, apparently.

And in walks Taylor. Chief Petty Stink. Or so says Craven. He ambles in and moves for the weights, just giving a quick glance to the game in progress.

Zaharis grabs the ball as it comes at him. He spins on the toe of his Navy-issued trainers, dribbling as he starts running for the hoop on Rhea's side.

Greje smiles at Amalina once she gets rid of the ball, keeping low and jogging backward to keep herself open in case Jesse needs to pass. "You okay?"

<Opposed Roll> Rhea - Agility versus Zaharis - Agility
<Roll1> Rhea: Mediocre <Roll2> Zaharis: Good
<Result> Zaharis WINS by 2.

<Opposed Roll> D'artanion - Agility versus Zaharis - Agility
<Roll1> D'artanion: Good <Roll2> Zaharis: Good
<Result> DRAW!

Rhea and D'Artanion are engaged in a match of 30-year-old amateur b-ball against Zaharis and Greje. Though Greje appears to be injecting some actual athletic ability into the whole thing. The ChEng concentrates on blocking the doctor. But he's bigger than she is. She jumps, to try and swipe the ball away from him, but it's to no avail.

D'Artanion grins at Greje, "Pssht, yeah. No sweat." The chaplain is given a wink and then the woman sprints up the court to try and recover the ball. Sidestepping Rhea as she lands, D'Artanion interposes herself between Zaharis and the goal.

Zaharis dodges around Rhea, tunrning backwards a few steps as he skids back and turns to breeze past her. Seeing D'artanion coming at him he calls to Greje. "Greje!" He tries to get to D'art's side, jumping as he throws the pass to his teammate…

[Intercom] Captain Zaharis, please call 1492. Captain Zaharis call 1492.

Greje grins back and jogs after Amalina, giving her a friendly and spirited pat on the back as she goes after Jesse, then hovering back on the three-point line, hands out to catch a pass, easy enough for her to catch if he can throw it through the other two on top of him.

<Opposed Roll> D'artanion - Agility versus Greje - Sports
<Roll1> D'artanion: Mediocre <Roll2> Greje: Great
<Result> Greje WINS by 3.

Zaharis lands on both feet. His right leg bends too hard, pitching him off balance into a stumble, which he catches before he falls. An odd look passes across his face but it disappears like a quick ripple, and he looks up as the intercom goes off. "Dammit." He calls to the others, heading off the court. "Keep playing. Get em Greje!"

Rhea isn't in position to block Greje so D'Artanion is the one who has to deal with demon. She takes another jump closer to the fray, but pauses when she hears the intercom call Zaharis. She watches the doctor go with a snort. "You planned that, didn't you?" is yelled after him. "Weak!"

Greje catches the basketball, and bends her knees easily, straightening and following through with one hand to send the ball lofting through the air and into the basket from the three-point line before Amalina can run back all the way to her. But then the ball's bouncing on the floor near to Rhea, and Greje is suddenly all on her lonesome. "Erk!" she comments.

"Yeah yeah yeah." Zaharis calls back, but his mind's gone into work-shift. He heads out, quickly, to take the com call.

Zaharis leaves for Corridor 9D [O].
Zaharis has left.

<Opposed Roll> Rhea - Agility versus Greje - Sports
<Roll1> Rhea: Poor <Roll2> Greje: Mediocre
<Result> Greje WINS by 1.

Taylor stretches his arms while watching, nodding to Zaharis as the man heads out. Hmm, D'Art is playin. Twisting his arm across his chest, he heads to the sidelines to watch.

Rhea watches Zaharis go, an expression of faint concern flickering across her face, but she's back on the game quick enough. Even with her and D'art aligned, Greje seems to have advantage. She tries to grab the ball when it bounces toward her but, even then, she misses. Gods clearly not on her side.

Greje gets over her deer-in-headlights moment, lowering her stance and focusing on the ball, bouncing on the bals of her feet as she watches it bounce, then darting in to to steal it, pivot, and dribble back down toward the basket she'd just scored in.

<Opposed Roll> D - Agility versus Greje - Sports
<Roll1> D: BeyondTerrible *BOTCH* <Roll2> Greje: Great
<Result> Greje WINS by 6.

D'Artanion frowns at something noted when Zaharis landed. The intercom's call gives a brief distraction and she looks after the doctor as her attention diverted by work worries. "Frak… Wonder if…" But, the doctor will hollar if she is needed. Turning, she watches Greje make the shot, then darts after teh bouncing ball but is beaten to it by Greje so she ends near the edge of the court. She pivots to try to catch the woman but one foot missteps and she can't stop her momentum. Down she goes in a whirl of arms and legs. As she goes down she checks her head against a nearby bench and lands in a crumpled heap. A still and silent heap.

"Whoa!" Rhea gasps, coming to another abrupt stop when D'Artanion goes down. She jogs over to kneel next to the medic, swearing. "Frak. Lieutenant…!" Aimed at Greje. "Call a medic." She does a quick check of D'Artanion for signs of massive bleeding, but she's no doctor. D'Art doesn't beep. ChEng no fix.

Greje goes up as Amaline goes down, pistoning a leg against the ground and slipping up out of Amalina's grasp as she jumps to the hoop and taps the ball against the backdrop and in, landing and letting the ball bounce away unheeded as she hurries toward Rhea and Amalina, stunned. "Ah— right!" and she sprints off to a communications interface to call for a medic in the gymnasium. Well, -another- medic in the gymnasium.

"Lords!" Taylor gruffs and heads to the side of D'Artanion at a flat-out run. He damn-near slides to a stop beside her and bends down. "Lin! Godadamnit! Are you okay??" He doesn't touch her but looks her over as best he can. He glances back to make sure the LT is phoning home.

Greje leaves for Corridor 9D [O].
Greje has left.

[Intercom] Medical assistance to the gymnasium.

Rhea looks over her shoulder, to make certain Greje has hustled in the appropriate direction. She stays with D'Artanion, laying her fingers lightly against the medic's temples. Very lightly. Her first aid training is bare minimum, and she doesn't want to break anything further. "Sergeant…Amalina…can you hear me?" she says, tone soft but firm.
Greje indeed had very little notion where the stationary wirelesses were kept, and when she returns to the gymnasium it's with a new determination to learn all of their locations in future. She picks up the ball so that no one will trip over it and puts it back in its bin on her way back over to the bench, "Someone will be coming," she reports quietly.

Hard to say whether it was Taylor's voice or Rhea's that gets through. Amalina's eyelids flutter, then open. She blinks, but does not move yet. "Ow." Slowly and against medial practice, she stretches out and rolls over. Looking up, she blinks a few more times and focuses on the faces around, "Hey, Tiger. Whatcha doing here? Rhea? Did we win?" So, she can move and has no memory loss to speak of. All good things. "I feel like crap… Didja heave a Viper at me, Tiger?"

"Heh.. shit. Scared the crap out of me, Lin." Taylor sighs and settles down onto his butt. "Just don't move, okay?" He does his best to smile, especially with the last. "No, but I think you hit the bench here about as hard as some of those Snake Sticks hit the deck." He reaches out to settle a hand on her shoulder. "You feel okay? Other than a bangin' headache?"

Rhea can't contain a sigh of relief as D'Artanion blinks awake. She smiles. "Take it easy. Stay still. You hit your head pretty good there. No. We were soundly defeated. I'll have to ask Jesse for a rematch, when he's not getting divine intervention." She looks up at Greje, offering her a short nod. "Thanks, Lieutenant."

Greje looks quite pleased, as well, to see Amalina awake. She crouches down by and gives Rhea a sheepish sort of smile. "Least I could do," she murmurs. "Good-ness-, Amalina, for a moment I was afraid we'd lost you," she offers meekly, though she jokes a little for the sake of keeping her own spirits high as well as Amalina's, "I'll have to take it easy on you next time, and I'll be sure to tell the bench to do the same. A medic should be en route to look you over," she adds, more seriously.

D'Artanion does not nod to anyone, though she lifts a hand to cover Taylor's, "Right. Don't move." Then, more seriously, she considers the question of how she feels. "Like crap. But, otherwise, I'm a'right. Really." No bleeding at the ears or nose or anywhere else unnatural. She grins at Rhea, "I'd offer to help, but I'll wait a bit, y'know? Maybe practice being able to walk first. I hear that's an important skill." Then, her eyes shift down to Greje and her smile remains, "Ah, no. I'm too stubborn to bite it this way. The Marines need their medic, y'know? Besides, I've gotta hard head. I think it was part of my upbringing…"

At about that moment a team of two medics enter the gym. They look around, then move quickly to the cluster of people at the end of the court. The first one, whom we shall call Medic A, speaks softly, "This the patient?" He moves in to begin an examination while Medic B speaks quietly, "What happened?"

"I can vouch for that," Taylor responds without missing a beat to her comments of upbringing. "You can blame part of that on me." He turns his hand to squeeze hers quickly. "I swear, Lin.. One day I'm gonna sock ya myself." He moves aside as the medics arrive, letting someoen else tell them whats up.

"Amateur sports gone wrong," Rhea explains wryly to the medics, moving out of their way so they can work on D'Artanion. She doubts it's the first time they've seen an incident like this in the gym. "She fell and hit her head on the bench. I thought she was out cold for a second…" She offers D'Artanion a grin. "You'll be fine. I've seen worse in Junior Pyramid."

Greje stands and offers her usual meek smile to the medics, letting those who saw it tell what happened, crossing her arms in a mildly anxious posture, though she continues to smile gently, knowing that Amalina's probably just fine.

After a few moments of being poked and prodded, having her pupils checked and vitals taken, and all of teh 'where does it hurt' things that Medics ask, Medic A afixes a chemical cold pack to D'Artanion's head. They give her instructions to take it easy for a few days, take pain killers as necessary and all the good advice that people with mild head trauma get. Medic B speaks to D'Artanion, then, "You are lucky, Sergeant. No concussion. No spinal injury." The medics pack up their things and walk out together while D'Artanion finally sits up. "Gah." Such an elloquent pronouncement. Looking over to Taylor, she snickers, "You'd have to catch me first, Tiger. So not happening." One hand lifts to touch the cold pack and she turns to Rhea and Greje, "Thanks. Yeah. I'll be fine. Just… Frak, I'm going to take a lot of crap over this up in sickbay."

"I don't need to catch you. I know where you sleep." Taylor winks to her and winces as she touches the cold pack. "Well, looks like our boxing match will have to wait. Pity. I was looking forward to wiping the floor with my favorite sister.. then rubbing it in your face at Christmas with the rest of the family." His grin finally returns and offers her an arm. "Want to sit up on the bench?"

"I won't tell," Rhea promises D'Artanion with a wink. She looks between Taylor and the medic, head tilted slightly. "You two related or something?"

Greje feels mildly out of place, but she shifts and listens quietly, looking pleased as Amalina's going to be fine.

D'Artanion says, "Yeah, but then you'd have to come into Marine-land and you know how territorial we get. Especially after lights out." She winces, but laughs anyway, "Ah, crap. You put that bench there to trip me up to avoid our match 'cause you know I'll beat your ass." More softly, then, "We'll meet up in a week or two to see who gets braggin' rights at Christmas. And you'll see. I'll be the…" Taking the man's arm, she shifts from the floor to the bench, "Thanks, Berk." Looking up, she grins at Rhea, "Thanks." Though it causes a wince, she nods, her hand lifting to Taylor's shoulder, "Yeah. Berk's my big brother and favorite sib. Best big brother ever. Even when he won't admit he's licked in the ring." She looks up to Greje and motions to Taylor, "You've met, right?""

Taylor smirks to Rhea and lets Lin finish. "You might say we're related, but sometimes we deny it. Don't want to lose face with the other's embarassing antics and all." He shadows a wink to the Captain and sits don onto the bench beside her, leaning sideways to stagewhisper. "Only thing you've ever cleaned a ring with was a mop." Snap. He can't help the grin, though, as he looks up to Greje. "Ah, no, I don't believe we have." He stands and extends a hand to the woman. "Chief Taylor. Deck's my own personal playground."

"No kidding?" Rhea takes a second look at the both of them, now that she's got that information. She chuckles. "Believe me, as siblings go, neither of you are what anyone'd call embarrassing. I speak from first-hand experience. Wow. Must be nice, to be on the same assignment."

Greje scratches the back of her neck artlessly and then nods politely to Taylor, "No, no I don't think we've met," she narrows her eyes a bit in thought. She's met more people in the last three weeks than she's met in the previous four months, and keeping them all straight is taxing. She smiles as her opinion is seconded, and she moves the hand from the back of her neck to shake his, a surprisingly strong shake for such a frail-looking woman. OR maybe not that surprising, for those who were paying attention to the court. "Cheif Taylor," she greets in a quiet, mild voice. "I'm Greje Karthasi," she continues, with a timid smile, "I'm really very sorry, I shouldn't have let this little match get out of hand."

D'Artanion snickers, nodding, "And some'f his are truly stupendously embarassing." Berk is, however, saved by the stagewhisper, "Oh, frak, you know that isn't true." Leaning back as the man rises, she turns to Rhea, "Oh, yeah. Truth? I can't think of anyone I'd rather be on assignment with. Berk's the best. Just don't tell him that I said so. It'd go to his head and the Gods know he's puffed up too much already. Did you know he can move Vipers around down there? By himself? Without machinery to help? It's scary." She winks up at the woman, then nods, agreeing that her brother's not really all that embarassing. Then, she turns to Greje, her hand lifting to press on the coldpack, "Don't sweat it. Really. It wasn't your fault."

There's a proud smirk on the man's face as he looks to his sister. He loves her. But T nods to Rhea. "Yeah, haven't seen the munchkin in like.. geez.. maybe two? Three years? Shows up on my deck talkin' smack and all sorts of nonsense. Been meaning to slap her around for it. Damn bench beat me to it, though." Sure, he might be going on about it, but he cares about her. Its evident with the way he glances to her. "So yeah, I love havin' her around. Keeps me a little more honest than usual." To Greje, he shakes his head. "Good to meet ya, but heck no! Don't apologize. You aren't having fun unless you're playin' hard. And sometimes? That means casualties. Shoulda seen me in the ring last week? Two weeks ago? Got my clocked clean by one of Lin's sistern. UG-ly."

Rhea shakes her head at Greje's apology. "Don't worry over it, Lieutenant. No permanent damage done. Though I don't think I'll be trying to play against you again anytime soon." She looks to D'Artanion. "You sure you're all right? Need a hand getting back to your bunk or anything?"

Greje looks vaguely put at ease by the varied assurances of blamelessness, and even more so by the easy way the siblings relate to one another, something about it quite warming. She laughs lightly at Rhea, "It's likely a sign I ought to put down the basketball, in any case," she admits, then looks curiously to Amalina. "You probably -had- ought to lie down a while," she agrees with Rhea.

D'Artanion chuckles and the memory is a good one, "He did. T'was great. And, in a week or so, I'll wipe the floor with him. It'll be epic. You both should come watch." Slowly, she nods to Rhea, then to Greje, "Yeah… I think I'll head up to sickbay, though. I've kinda staked a claim on a cot in one of the closets up there. That way, I'll be near the medics if I need 'em and can be on duty on time in the morning." She rises, but waves off help, "You all stay and play. It's good for the soul, they say. Just don't let Tiger give you any shit. He has no restraint." Clearly, the woman is teasing the man. As per usual. "Catch y'all in the morning."

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