High and Dry
High and Dry
Summary: Reighner uses his doctor voodoo to assess that Corinne's problem goes beyond a simple headache. And Corinne seems to be on a cougar hiatus.
Date: 116 ACH
Related Logs: Water Water Everywhere

Corinne watches Alexandra go, her opposite foot doing the restless jiggling now after she crosses her legs and folds her hands on her knee. Then her gaze drifts back to Reighner and she gestures to the spot beside her with her head. "Want to sit?"

Reighner bends down and picks up the bag. He takes the few steps over to the bench and sits, with the requisite sigh, putting the bag on the opposite side. He looks at her plainly, but he doesn't say anything.

Corinne returns the look, studying Reighner's face for a moment. "It's been a while. How are you?" she asks, her foot finally coming to a stop.

"Doing alright," Reighner judges. He lets a few seconds pass before he asks, bluntly, "So what's your real problem?"

"I have a headache," Corinne replies defensively. "And… other things." She studies Reighner for a moment more before looking away, rolling her eyes towards the domed ceiling of the ship. "The liquor's gone. I'm… adjusting." Now that she's admitted that, it's safe for her to fidget restlessly again.

Reighner's expression turns more serious. More clinical, perhaps. He asks, immediately, "How many days since your last drink?"

Corinne's jaw tightens, and she lowers her gaze from the ceiling and regards her knees. "This is the second day," she mumbles, her tone not entirely obliging though her words are.

Reighner rests his elbows on his knees and leans in, angling his body so that it's obliquely pointed toward her. He lowers his voice a notch. "And, uhh, how many drinks do you have per day?"

"None, anymore," Corinne answers a little snippily, before letting out a haggard sigh and glancing out of the corner of her eye at Reighner. "I'm sorry. It kind of varies, but on average I'd say about… three." Who knows how she's rounding.

"Counting in shots of, let's say whiskey, how many shots do you say equals one drink?" Reighner asks smoothly. He doesn't make any pretense about eye contact.

Corinne rests her elbow on her knee and pushes a hand through her dark hair, then rests her forehead in the cradle of her palm. "Damn it. Two, I guess."

Reighner looks at her for a few seconds. He puts a hand on her shoulder and ventures, "I want you to see a doctor."

Corinne is silent for a long moment, eyes on the ground directly in front of the bench. Reighner can likely feel the warmth through the fabric of her shirt, from where her back had been settled up against the bench, causing it to sweat somewhat. She lets out a defeated sigh and nods her head, quick and shallow. "Okay."

Reighner nods a few times and leans back. "You want something to eat?" he asks, tone falling back into insouciance, as he reaches for the brown bag.

It takes a moment for Corinne to right herself from her hunched position. "I probably should eat," she says distractedly, before the crinkle of the mysterious bag catches her attention. "Oh. Do I get to see what's in the bag?"

Reighner pulls out a plastic container with brown goop inside and a non-disposable fork. "Try keeping it down, it's a good way to tell if the withdrawal's going to be bad or not," he says, unhelpfully, as he proffers them.

Corinne doesn't even attempt to hide her disappointment at the goop. But she takes the fork and container, if a little reluctantly. "Thanks." Flat. She pulls back the plastic lid and inspects the contents. "What is it?" she asks, as the fork hovers over the food.

"Ration parcel three-bravo, chicken and dumplings," Reighner explains. He smiles, but it's comparatively stronger. "But I threw it in the food processor, added some spices, slow simmered for a couple of hours with some tomato sauce."

Corinne's brows lift in surprise, and she turns her head to smile, impressed, at Reighner. "Wow. Are you sure you don't mind sharing? Because I'll feel really terrible if I can't keep it down." She gives the food inside the container a less judgmental glance, now that she knows it's not algae infested.

Reighner snorts and threatens, mockingly, "You'd better."

At that, Corinne pointedly spears a morsel of the dish onto the fork, then takes a bite. After a few chews, she swallows, then points the fork into the air, lifting her chin haughtily. "It could use a little cumin," she sniffs. After a pause, she grins, lowering the utensil back down to the container. "Actually I have no idea what cumin even tastes like. This is good." She glances back down at it, then at Reighner.

Reighner looks down at the container when she does, then back at her. "What, you forgot how to eat all of a sudden? The sick get first dibs." He smirks and shifts idly in the bench, unfocusing his eyes onto the horizon.

Corinne grins, then digs back in, her mood much improved. She takes care not to act like a barbarian, as hungry as she is. And she doesn't talk with her mouth full when she asks, "Is cooking a hobby of yours?"

"When I have time." Reighner crosses his legs, ankle to knee, and absently adjusts the length of his pant leg. It's hemmed neatly, without cuffs. "Which I'm having more and more lately."

"Too bad there's less and less food." Corinne finishes off another bite, then forks some more. She watches his hand adjust his pant leg, then lifts her eyes to his face again. She considers a moment, then says, "You should visit me on the Destiny sometime. There's not much going on anymore, but it's a nice change of pace."

Reighner glances over. "You're not working at Spotlights anymore?"

Corinne sets the fork down, angling her head towards the container to shield a strange smirk. "I am," she explains. "But I didn't necessarily mean… while I'm working." She looks back up, the grin a self-deprecating one.

Reighner's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh!" he exclaims, perhaps a little more surprised than is appropriate. He looks askance and coughs into a closed fist. "Oh, uh, yes, sure." Backpedal much?

"If you want to," Corinne assures Reighner quickly, abandoning her pursuit of sustenance for the time being. "I mean, we have shuffleboard. Guys your age like shuffleboard, don't they?"

Reighner takes the out graciously. "Second only to bridge." He looks back at the lake. "Anyways, you should see a doctor on the Carina, the facilities here are better."

Corinne places the lid back on the container, then hands it back to Reighner. She didn't quite eat half. She still holds onto the fork as she replies, "I will. Do I make an appointment, or just… walk in?"

Reighner accepts the container. "I'd make an appointment, let them know you're going through some withdrawal and might need to come in." He pauses, squaring away his expression. "The worst of it comes in the third and fourth days, if it's going to be bad."

Corinne nods, then polishes the fork with the corner of her button-down shirt. She offers it to Reighner. "All right. Thanks, Matt. I appreciate…" This fork. Your concern. Whatever, he can fill in the blanks.

Reighner takes the fork and puts it with the container. "Don't mention it," he replies easily. "And call me if you need somebody with you, okay?"

Corinne doesn't answer for a moment, her expression hidden by the angle of her face - again, towards the ground. After a few seconds, she nods, and stands up. "If it comes to that, I will. And I apologize in advance." She brushes off her knees, though there's nothing to brush off.

Reighner stands too. He doesn't say anything this time around, but nods. "See you later."

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