Hair Today
Hair Today
Summary: Post-attack, there are more wounds than just the physical.
Date: 1/22/09
Related Logs: Tomorrow's Gone
Players:
Rhea..Zaharis..Snatch..Melia..

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Recovery Ward Genesis - Deck 13

70 ACH 23817 Souls


This is a large room holding over twenty bed stations for patients to recover after having treatment severe enough that they cannot immediately return to duty. Each station has various connections for medical equipment, a bed with collapsible railings, fold out table, adjustable positions and a privacy curtain.

-----< Condition Two - Duty Area >----——

Contents: Melia Rhea Snatch Zaharis

Exits: [O] Out [PR] Private Room

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Rhea is sleeping. She's been stabilized by Craven and bedded down in the Recovery Ward. And doped up (as well as anyone gets doped up nowadays) on morpha. She'll be out of it for awhile.

Snatch has come in, evidently with a view toward bothering the Cap'm about something. But the Cap'm's asleep, and the Enginesnipe doesn't bother her, only watching her sleep with some real care in her eyes. And a few tears. She's got blood coating one ear and the side of her neck, and stands sort of stiffly to keep upright at her post by her Cap'm's side like some loyal dog. Or a daughter.

Zaharis is lights-out on his bed, albeit lightly. Glass and metal gashes and bullet wounds tended to. Explosion burns over his back, shoulder, and face carefully dressed. His right shoulder is held immobile in a brace. His face is already showing what's going to be a brilliant patchwork of bruising that stretches down past the collar of the hospital gown, and they've got one of those annoying oxygen tubing things for his nose to help with the earlier smoke inhalation. Quiet is he. For once.

Things have finally settled down a little and Melia comes back into Sickbay looking a little worse for wear. There's more officer blood on her than she's seen her whole life, likely. However, the work shift isn't over - not by a long shot. First she bounces over to Zaharis' bed, checking his chart. For a moment, she reaches down and very lightly brushes her fingers over a seemingly uninjured portion of his hand. Apparently she feels for Zaharis close to what Snatch feels for Rhea. Then it's over to her favorite engineer - where she catches sight of Snatch. "Can I get you something to drink," she asks the snipe, keeping her voice low and quiet.

Rhea sleeps. If not peacefully, than she shows no sign of discomfort. She's pale, which is emphasized by her long, dark hair, currently flowing loose around her face. But that's likely from the loss of blood. Her vitals aren't worrisome and she's responding well to the transfusions. From a medical point of view.

Snatch opens her mouth, which is very dry, but no words come out. She tries to nod her head, instead, eager for something cool to drink, but the slight motion of her head sets the whole world spinning, and she wavers to one side, flailing an arm in an attempt to keep steady, but ends up looking surprised, dazed, and once more on her ass on the floor as the room reels. At least there's nowhere further to fall, and she nods her head. Or she thinks she does. It's more of a wobble.

Mellie's right there next to Snatch as soon as she starts to wobble, and ends up taking a knee on the floor as she tries to ease the landing, just a little. "Injured," she asks Snatch quietly, studying the woman's face. "Have to make sure before I start pouring fluids into you to replace the ones coming out." She offers a small little smile, a gentle one.

Snatch leans on Mellie gamely, easing herself down to that more congenial elevation. The smile elicits a pale echo in the snipe, "Yan," she manages to reply, dry tongue trying to dampen her lips as she bends forward, lifting her blood-drenched hair, "Ah got…" Shot. Shot would be the word she's groping for. There's a nice deep furrow back there, in fact.

Mellie's eyes narrow a little and her arm tightens a bit around the snipe. "Well, I promise. We don't treat our injured on the floor. If you'll wrap your arm around my shoulders, we'll get you up and in a nice, comfortable bed. The one next to the Major is free. Then we can get your injury looked at. I think some ice cold juice would be in order, too."

Snatch does take her arm and move it around Mellie's shoulders, grimacing and then going slack-jawed as grimacing with a hole in her head isn't any fun. She does push herself upward with her legs and her free arm, "Ah cin git rested next t' the Cap'm?" she asks blearily.

"You can get rested next to your Ca…Major," Mellie says with a little smile. One of the redshirts brings a gurney over, seeing that Mellie's a little occupied. "Ok, let's get you up here now. Just slide back until you feel it hit your legs, then sit. I'm going to need to take a look at that wound." Right there, apparently. The redshirt seems to know to bring Mel some supplies.

Snatch shuffleshuffle… sits down, eyes watering again, "She'ns gone bin O.K.?" she asks, hands resting on her legs. "She'ns all so bin so good t' min. Laik als maahn own kin. She'ns got shot up sommat awful," she explains sadly.

It takes poor Melia a minute to parse all that out. She manages to get enough words to get the gist of things. "We're going to do our best," she says, keeping her voice soft and quiet. "Right now, her prognosis is good. So she'll be back fussing at you all within a couple weeks. Now, if you could hold onto the bed and lean forward a little? Let me take a look at that."

Snatch moves her hands to the edge of the guerney, leaning as far over as she can without feeling like she's going to do a somersault. Which isn't too far. She closes her eyes gratefully at the news that the Cap'n'll be fine, briefly reaching into a pocket low on her leg to hold her silver religious medallion in her palm. She keeps her eyes shut, because she's having trouble opening them again. There's a decent bit of half-detached flesh back there, and underneath, if one were to look, several small chips have been taken off of her skull, and there are a few more tiny flakes of fragments lurking looking about to chip away.

Mellie's touch is fairly light and she's angled herself so that she'll catch Snatch if she starts to fall forward. "Well," she says after a moment. "When you do something, you go all the way. Would you like the good news or the bad news first," she asks, giving the snipe a little smile. Redshirt comes back with juice.

Snatch gives a soft h'm at the question. "Ah don' much care, als long's the news come wit sommat cole fer mahn lips. An' mayhaps an headache pill," she adds. Her head hurts. Imagine that. She tries to peel her eyelids off of her eyes.

The juice is offered out and Mellie takes it, straw tilted toward Snatch. "Good news is that you're going to live. You're going to have a hell of a scar, but you're going to live. Bad news, we're going to have to shave the back of your head."

Snatch takes the straw in her lips and sips until her mouth is wet and throat is soothed, "Hair ain't done naught but sit up 'ere an git dirty, no-how," she waves off the bad news comfortably enough. "Thanks t' yin," she adds, regarding the drink.

"Alright, give me just a few to get a doctor in here to take care of the sewing. I'll do the shaving. Once you're sewn up, I'll see about evening up the hair so you don't look like a skunk." Mellie gives Snatch a grin, but it's a bit concerned.

"It O.K. 'fin Ah laah mahnsailf down a whiles-times?" Snatch asks quietly, looking a little hopeful before she takes another intrepid sip of juice.

"On your side," Mellie says, apparently getting better at translation from Snipe to English. "We'll get you taken care of. I'll put your juice on the table next to you."

Snatch is thoroughly aware of what side of her head is good to lie down on, and she closes her eyes again briefly in gratitude as she grunts into a staccato lean to that side, shouldering into the medical pillow and tenderly resting her head on it, half-burying her face in it. Her free eye gazes across to the Cap'm. "Than's much benner," she indicates to Mellie in a murmur.

The damage on Snatch's head is taken care of in short order. Of course, it does require a bit of her head get shaved, but that just adds character, right? Mellie's the one with the shears and takes care to take no more than necessary. Then the real work begins. Finally, things are finished up and a sheet brought out with a small cup of pills and a small packet of pills. "I'm going to recommend you spend another hour or two here," Mellie says quietly. "Then you're free to go home. We just need to make sure you don't have a concussion." Not hugely far-fetched, really. But it doesn't seem to be the reason.

Snatch peeks at the pills, almost too comfy to get up. The throbbing in her head seems to abate with Mellie's gentle touch, and she turns the medallion of Castor and Pollux over in her hand again and again. Her mom used to cut her hair for her, and there was more than once that she had to have her hair salvaged from being caught up in a machine. Why she started wearing those kerchiefs. But at the promise of pills, she does sit up, and settle her medallion in her pcket to take her juice in one hand and the pills in the other. "O.K. Ah cin take theen's uns now?" she checks to make sure.

Melia holds out the little cup. "These first. Those you'll take every four to six hours as needed for pain. If you don't need them, you don't have to take them." Her eyes drop to the medallion and she smiles a little. "And if you decide you want the hair evened, let me know and I'll take care of it for you."

Snatch takes the ones in the cup like a pro, if a very sore pro, shuffling them out onto her tongue without tipping her head back more than a degree or two, then drinking down the juice. "Ah wouldn't maahnd than a lick," she admits. "But when'jer'ns got the taahm… y'ns got othern's here needful on yer'n hailp besides."

"They're asleep," Mellie points out with a small grin. "Let me take care of it now while the pain pills are kicking in, that way I can clean up all the hair at once. Yes, she seems relaxed and comfortable in her natural environment. If her bouncing is a little muted, it's only to be expected.

Snatch puts both cups aside and reaches up behind her head, unstrapping the latch of her goggles from where they sit up there, and peeling them off of her head with her somewhat more bullet-holed and red kerchief, letting the dank, dingy locks of her bent and cramped hair free, the unevenness in the back just sort of throwing an extra bucket of water into the sea of reasons why her hair's just nasty-looking, with almost permanent-looking imprints from her workgear, and not having been washed in a few weeks of hard work and getting spewed with swampclog water and various undesireable products from the ship's systems.

Melia eyes the back of Snatch's head, her own canting slightly to one side. She eyes the shears in her hand for a moment as if trying to decide if they'll do the job. "How do you feel about short hair, Petty Officer," she asks, consideringly. "I think I can give you a decent cut that will be more comfortable for you, make work easier."

Snatch lifts her shoulders in an agreeable gesture as the drugs start to make her feel less like ass. "Ah don' know nothin' 'bout fashionables," she admits, "Jus' als sich A hain't lookin' als a lad, kenny?" she asks, "M'a git mahnsailf hitched, soon-as," she explains the desire to appear to be some sort of female creature.

There's another few seconds as the words get processed, then Mellie's lips are squinching to one side. "Alright, we'll just take off a couple of inches. I'll leave it long enough that you can just yank it back with something at the nape, like a band or a piece of string." The shears are traded for regular scissors and a comb.

Snatch can't hold in a smile as she watches the Cap'm sleeping. "A hain't had no haircut 'n a long whiles A hain't gi'n mahnsailf," she remarks. And probably with something out of her toolkit, from the looks of it. Just grab and chop and keep it from getting too long. "A hain't thinkin' on done much yankin' back thar no-time soon, though."

"You'd best not," Mellie says with a soft laugh. "It'll hurt like hell. Just come find me whenever you need a trim. I used to cut my brothers' hair and would help Mom do hers." The snipping starts, gently and carefully. She's being very mindful of the wound. "Your kerchief should cover it just fine."

Snatch takes a long breath as the soothing shearing begins. Her eyes drift toward shut, "Ah thank yin, in feels raaht faahn. … How's the Doc?" she wonders quietly after a while. In all her concern about the Cap'm she'd almost forgotten to ask.

"He's going to live," Mellie says softly. But the perk is gone from her voice. She's worried. "He'll have a bit of a long road to recovery, a little longer than Major Zimmerman. I'm going to need to do some digging to find reading material for him. He'll be grumpy as hell that he can't work." Snip, snip, snip.

Snatch smiles faintly, "Way-ell… y'ns all git 'im up an' workin' agin in no-taahm, Ah reckon," Snatch voices her confidence. "M'a step bah hins bunk an' see whan's thaar he'ns maaght could laahk t' read on. Reg'lar lahbr'y dog, our'n Doc."

"That's an idea," Mellie says with a smile, though her brows are pulled together in a bit of confusion while she works. "Though I'm not sure if they'll let you in the Officer bunks to find him something to read. Can't hurt to ask, though." She's clearly not sure she heard what she thought she heard. Finally, she comes around to the side and cants her head, studying the chop job. It looks…decent. Two inches off, nice and even.

"Sommon thar'll leave min's git on in, fer'n secon'," Snatch supposes. "An he'ns said he'ns gone teach min letters sommat… so Ah reckon he'ns won' maahnd much maahn pawin' through hins books, ou-ais?" she finishes up her line of logic, turning a little to see whether Mellie thinks it sounds reasonable. She also gives her a smile, now that her head doesn't throb when she turns it. Too much.

Poor Snatch can see the confusion on the Medic's face. It's been a long day and she's trying, desperately, to make sure she understands. "Maybe wait until he's awake and get his verbal ok? While I don't think he'd mind, necessarily, there's just something about strange engineers pawing through his stuff that might rub him wrong." She's teasing, though - Snatch can tell by the glint in her eyes. "Alright, do you want a mirror?"

Snatch mirrors that confusion back, "A hain't so strange als all on that… the Doc an I's good frien's," she lets Mellie know. "Bun'cher raaht, Ah reckon. Ah'll wait on him's gittin' up," she agrees. "Shore als," she then replies to the query on the mirror.

Melia dashes off and returns a few seconds later holding a hand mirror up for the Engineer to see. It's not a professional job, but it's short and cute - most importantly, it's even. "He's a good man to work for," she comments quietly. "I lucked out."

"Han, ou-ais," Snatch remarks her approval of the haircut, "A hain't ne'er look't slicker, Ah reckon. Ah look to've been gittin' maahn hair fussed upon off in Caperca Cinny 'r aught," she adds in further appreciation, before she looks up from the mirror, momentarily just baffled, until she thinks to check, "Doc Quill?"

Melia blinks at Snatch for a moment. "Doc Zaharis," she says, nodding over to the CMO. "We call him Doc in Sickbay. Lieutenant Craven is Stitch. I'm Terrier." Terrier, it fits her WAY too well.

"Han," Snatch replies in recognition of the fact. "We'ns call Lentennent Quill the Doc down in th' engine-room. We'ns call the Cap'm the Cap'm," she looks to the Cap'm. "An' they'ns call min Snatch." It doesn't mesh quite as well with her outward demeanor as the Terrier's does with hers.

"OH!" The lightbulb goes off over Mellie's head and she grins, broadly. "Ok, NOW that makes sense. I mean, I don't know Major Zaharis' friends, I only work for and terrorize the man. I didn't mean any insult. It's nice to meet you, Snatch. I just hate that we had to meet this way. Little painful for you."

Snatch waves it off with a wave of one hand before she pulls out her medallion again, "Ah met'cher oncet afore-times," she notes. "Ah war gone rough yin up a ways, an' y'ns got raaht out on thar an' put up yer'n Ol' Man t' tussle in yer stead," she relates, chiding a little, but teasing. "Way-ell… 'fin y'ns up t' in, now, A hain't in no shape t' put up much on a faaht," she smiles.

Melia can't help but laugh softly at that and shake her head. "Nah. I won't fight an injured snipe. That's already two strikes against you," she teases. "As for that fight, I was -trying- to get up there to fight him myself, but you beat me to it. Once your head's healed, we'll go at it. Winner owes the loser a drink?"

Snatch laughs, herself, then makes a sad-sounding, "Ohh." Because laughing still hurts. "M'a dee… y'ns didn't miss yernsailf munch on a faaht," she grins. "Th' Ol' Man's an Ol' Man," she reports almost axiomatically. "M'a faahtcher," she agrees. "What'cher drink?"

Mellie pauses and blinks for a moment, as if no one's ever asked her that question before. "Whiskey," she says after a moment. "I think. I've only had a few drinks before, so I don't quite know what I prefer. How about you? What's yours, so I know what I need to find ahead of time."

Snatch shrugs, "Ah ne'er drank so much mahnsailf. Mos'ly han'made… mah uncle use t' brew up sommat in's shed," she explains.

The little woman grins at that and dips her head. "My brothers did, too, but that was the one thing, other than males, they kept me away from without question."

Snatch raises both brows, "Ou-ais? Mahn uncle use t' give min some on 'is brew, oh, Ah reckon sin' Ah war ten or sich. An' his waahf an' mahn mother set up fer min t' git courted bah his son." That'd be her cousin, for those counting at home. "We'ns war gone git hitched whan Ah got home agin."

Mellie cants her head to the side, mulling that, as she cocks a hip against the gurney. "My mother arranged for me to be kidnapped and compromised the night before my swearing in," she says quietly, dipping her head. "So I understand interesting families. I hated what she did and she never spoke to me again. But it was better when they were alive."

"Compermised?" Snatch wonders, not quite grokking, then she shrugs a shoulder, "Ah got t' bin much in love with mahn sweetheart. When he ast min t' git hitched… well, shore, I knew we'ns war meant to… but in ne'er stopped mahn bein' pleased with it."

She searches for the right words to explain it, dipping her head. "Gemenese," she says quietly. "Being alone with a man not of my immediate family meant, to our society, that I was ineligible to become a bride. I wasn't a virgin anymore. No matter what might have happened." A shoulder lifts delicately. "And you have to do what your heart tells you is right." Her smile softens a little.

Snatch's features fall in sympathy, knowing well the urge to wed. "Ah reckon m'a still gone git hitched. Ah don' reckon Ah know who-to, yet— mahn mamma ain't here t' fix it up for min. The Shaarf said he'd faahn' someon… Ah nunno. Mayhaps he will."

Melia cocks her head slightly to the side, then nods, smile crooked. "I'd always imagined that my father or one of my brothers would walk me down the aisle." One hand reaches up to brush her hair back behind one ear. "I escaped to the Navy to get away being forced into marriage, forced into popping out kids. But I … want that. I want to marry. I want to be a mother. Eventually. What kind of man interests you?"

Snatch smiles sort of sleepily, "Ah could pop out a brat or twin raaht now an' not maahnd a lick," she admits. "Ah jus' wan' a kindly man. A hard worker. A good soul. Braaht, too, 'fin ah cin git un," she shrugs, smile turning sheepish, "'At's all, raaht?"

Mellie's eyes crinkle at the corners. "He'll show up," she says softly. It's likely her mind is running a mile a minute under there. "For now, how about you stretch out and test that gurney for me? No concussion that we found, so you're safe to take a nap. I'll nudge you before day shift comes in."

Snatch's eyelids are droopy. "O.K.," she replies, settling back onto the uninjured side of her head, "Thanks t' yin, Terrer," she offers softly as she begins to yield to doziness.

As the snipe starts to fall asleep, a blanket is drawn up over her. She's not QUITE tucked in, but close enough. "Sweet dreams, Snatch," she murmurs softly, then goes off back to work.

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