Visiting the troops
Visiting the Troops
Summary: Roz visits sickbay and brings Micah something to read.
Date: 29 ACH -12/12/2008
Related Logs: None


Recovery Ward Genesis - Deck 13

29 ACH 6735 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.


It's quiet in here, as it often tends to be in the recovery ward. Save for the beep of various monitors, and the sound of distant conversation in the medbay proper. The blonde half of the pilot pair is likely asleep, while her wingman is nominally conscious and counting ceiling tiles. Who knows how much morpha and/or restraints they had to give him, to lie still.

Roz comes walking in, giving the nurse a smile. In her hands she has a couple magazines, it looks like. Heading down along the beds, she finally finds the broken Pilots section and walks up next to Micah's. "Hey, Crow..looks like you made it out of that hell hole in two pieces," a smile evolves slowly as she keeps her voice down.

The sound of footsteps passing through, doesn't immediately draw Micah's attention. It isn't until it's obvious they're heading for him, that he meets the woman with a steady gaze. Unexpected. "Well, if it isn't the cavalry." There's a twitch that might be a smile, or might just be a twitch. "Shouldn't call me that, anymore. What brings you down here?"

"Why not?" Roz smiles and pulls up a chair. She also hands off the magazines, though they look more like some graphic comics. "Can't I come and visit those who so bravely got shot to hell?" A lean back on the plastic chair and she crosses one fatigue clad leg over the other.

There's a chuckle from the kid, and the sound of shuffling like he's trying to sit up a little straighter; at least one of the nurses has been kind enough to pop up the gurney half way, so Roz isn't talking to him flat on his back. "Don' know ah'd call it brave, Roz. I frakked up, got people killed, nearly killed my wingman. That in't bravery in any dictionary I know of." The magazines are studied for a moment, then cautiously accepted and sifted through. "Ta," much softer.

Roz shrugs, "You lived. People are going to die, no matter what. If it is their time, it's their time and nothing you can do about it." She smiles at the mags, "I rifled through some of the stuff that was brought back. Saw you liked that kind of thing," she absently looks over to Nov for a moment and back again.

Micah turns his head a little to study the cover of the second one. It's some kind of pictoral edition on skiing and backwoods hiking. Outdoorsy stuff. He begins thumbing through it, maybe for something to do with his hands and so he doesn't have to meet Roz's eyes. "It was more my family's thing." Flip flip. "I hated it, to be honest. You ever.." He lifts the magazine in vague indication. Maybe he's talking about skiing, or maybe visiting Leonis.

Roz glances to the mag and shakes her head, "No, I never have," could be she is talking about both. A small frown touches now on her face, "Sorry, Crow, I thought you enjoyed comics. Didn't mean to give you something that would bore you."

Micah's brow also furrows slightly, and he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. The other, of course, being bandaged up at the moment. The first magazine is set aside and he fishes out one of the graphic novels from beneath it, mouth twitching again like he might grin. "You're kidding me, aren't you? Where'd you get this?"

Roz puts her hands together on her knees, "From some of the stuff they brought back. Before the marines could steal it all, I figured I'd fight my way in there like a white sale," a light laugh and she watches him a moment. "Figured it might perk you up. I think the other one is Death Wing. Not sure which you'd like."

Micah isn't someone who typically shows his appreciation easily, and today's no exception. He thumbs through the first few pages in an almost reverent fashion, not seeming to mind that the cover's a bit tattered or the edition's an old one. "Naw, I like 'em both. Time Trekkers is a classic." He glances up at her briefly, then begins reading the back of 'Death Wing'. "How'd you know I like this stuff?"

"I'm part of the air wing, it's hard to miss alot of things going on around you. Unless you tune it all out, that is," Roz widens her smile, "I'm glad you like it." Pausing a moment there, she finally asks, "How are you doing anyway?"

Micah looks up again just in time to catch the tail end of that smile. He lowers his eyes, and resumes his scanning of the pretty pictures; it's hard to miss the look on his face though, like a kid presented with… well, a comic book. "Ah'll live," he mumbles. "Until Rue tears me apart, anyway. Really glad for the help up there, Roz."

"You'd have done the same," the female pilot watches the happy interest of the comics and clasps her hands together on her knee. "I don't see why she'd yell at you," a small shrug, "You put your life on the line like everyone else, it was voluntary."

"Broke her pretty ship," Micah replies, turning the page. "An' then lost my head, and made a mistake that nearly cost Cav her life. Again. But.." His eyes rove back up, oddly mismatched in colour as they are, hesitantly seeking out Roz. "I guess you can't fall much further, when you've hit rock bottom, aye?"

"The only way is up and the Star Screamers, nor the Muthafrakkers give up. So don't even think about it. Or I'll come back down here and cut out those comics and make paperdolls," Roz's eyes glitter from the humor she tries to send across. She leans in a little, "Besides, I saw the CAG chasing down the Skipper the other day before we all left. Maybe she just hasn't had time to wander by and see you yet."

"I eagerly await, let me tell you," mutters the surly viper jock, fingertips lingering on the page he'd been perusing. There's a touch of something approaching warmth in his own eyes, to match that glitter, but it's an elusive thing. "You'll have to fight me for the comics though, sir. Which'd probably send the doc in here, scowlin'."

"I promise to only use one hand," Roz raises some fingers in a 'scouts honor' sort of way. She then lowers it and chuckles lightly, "I'm still trying to figure out how Hound made it back in that bucket of bolts. He's got the ear of the Gods sometimes." She settles back then, going silent for a little bit. Her eyes seem to move to the monitors on Nov, to make sure she is still kicking over there.

"One hand, my arse," Micah snorts, shifting back against the upright bed in order to shoot the woman a grin. "Naw, ah'll fight you proper for it, Roz." His eyes slip sidelong toward Novella's sleeping form, then away again like he's afraid of watching her for too long. "Was he makin' friends with some toasters up there? Couldn't see much from where we were, and we sure didn't expect Rue to come to our rescue." Whatever he did expect, is tucked away somewhere beneath that brooding look of his.

"Sitting on that ship for days and having no idea what is going on really sucks saggie rocks. When the Major showed up and we were going atmo, I almost pee'd my pants. Happy to be doing something. Frakking Toasters, we should have just blown it all to hell too." Roz gets a little more animated as she gets wired up over all of that. Her hands helping her talk.

There's the first inkling of a real smile on the Ensign's lips, when Roz talks about what happened. He thumbs through another page of the book, and pretends to read while he listens to her speak. "Can't wait t'get my hands on a viper stick again," he confesses, staring at the same frame of the comic. "There wasn't anything down there anyway, but snow an' tins cans an' dead people. Jus' a frakkin' mess." His voice is a little quieter there.

Roz goes a little quieter too, "I won't say I can imagine, because, I can't. Atleast we got some people off and we know that those frakkers have taken over everything. Zeus on a crutch, how did they make so many. It's like one of those kids ovens, lay the piece of metal in and in 30 seconds, DING, we have a cylon."

Micah is still 'reading' that same comic frame. Or maybe he's not reading it at all. He's not very good with the eye contact thing. "Production lines, factories, it's like makin' cars, ah'm sure. Roll them out like cars. It's not like they're people, Roz." He turns away as a brief coughing fit takes him.

Roz gets up then, reaching for that little cup of water nearby with the bendy straw, "You gonna live?" A smile, trying to keep things cheery. "Here, you can have a little sip. But just a little one…look comes the viper in for a landing," and she's turning it one way and another toward his mouth.

Micah turns. And gives the woman a withering look. It's one of those looks that freezes small animals in their tracks and causes spontaneous combustions. He reaches over to try snatching the cup away from her. "Someone ought to revoke your flight status," is muttered, mirth (barely) bitten back.

Roz does a fake cringe at the withering look. "I can call the ball atleast," she winks and then lets him have the cup. She's done messing around. "I'm rolling on out of here, I'll tell the nurse you need your bath." Smirk.

"Frak that," Micah mumbles around the straw, before taking a sip that pretty much drains the little cup, "I'd prefer to stink, it keeps the visits short and sweet." Or maybe not so sweet. He probably doesn't stink anyway, though he does have nearly a week's worth of stubble on his face. "Thanks for the books," he offers more genuinely, meeting her eyes and smiling crookedly.

Roz raises a hand, "Atleast get a shave, well maybe not…it looks kinda good on you. Also the mags? Just don't get the pages all sticky," a long chuckle and she is ducking out of there before he throws them at her.

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