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You say "Tarrant? It's Clara. I apologize for not contacting you earlier. Are you busy by any chance?" into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and says "Hey Clara, no, no I'm not. Just catching up on some correspondence." in Tarrant's voice.
You say "Aaah. I was calling to check to see if you wanted to get that procedure over with tonight. If you're involved in correspondence, we can do it another time, though." into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and blares "No, now's as good as ever. It's nothing time-dependant, although my relatives would probably find reason to disagree. The sooner the better." in Tarrant's voice.
You say "Okay, sounds good. I've got most everything prepped. Go ahead and wear something comfortable, although I'll have you change when you get here. Do you have shoes other than boots? Perhaps sneakers?" into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and says "Not that I know of, sorry. I thought I owned a pair of sneakers, but I ended up wandering around barefoot for a while there. Really confused the delegates. Moving as often as I do, and in the circumstances and all, is a little tricky for keeping track of personal possessions. I can wander about bare-toed? It's great for confused looks in the elevator. I tell people I'm trying to become a hobbit." in Tarrant's voice.
You say "A what? Er, never mind. I don't think I want to know. Sure, if that's comfortable for you, it's fine for me. Come on over whenever you're ready. I'll be out in the main area of Medbay." into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and announces "*chuckle* Yeah, a long story. I'll be there in just a moment." in Tarrant's voice.
You say "Heya, doctor lady lieutenant person. It's Clara. Did you still want to assist on the knee replacement?" into the communit.
You walk towards the Medical Bay.
Clara bustles about getting surgery stuff ready. No, really. She does. See? Things like hiding the donuts and silly string before the patient gets here.
Your communit crackles to life and announces "*chuckle* Yeah. I already changed back into uniform and scarfed down dinner. Shall I find my way to medbay then?" in Julie's voice.
Tarrant arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
You say "Sure thing, if you would please. The patient will be here anytime. Do you have surgery scrubs?" into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and announces "*cheerfully* Yup. On my way." in Julie's voice.
Clara waves affably at said patient, coming forward with a stack of cloth. "Snapscrubs. Ever worn a full set before?"
Julie arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Tarrant comes limping in, bare toed, but not particularly hobbity. He's too tall and his feet aren't hairy enough. He reaches to accept the pile of cloth with a nod of thanks. "Yeah, on occasion. Clothing invented for the sake of fearsomeness."
Julie follows Tarrant in closely, giving him a polite smile as she heads to join Clara.
Clara taps her brow in a particularly lazy salute at Julie and grins, then drops the hand to wave at the hallway past my office. "First door on the right is the changing room. If you end up in the first door on the left and see a skeleton, don't panic. It's just McCoy."
"Ahh, I shall attempt to avoid the skeletons in your closets, ma'am." And with the tip of a non-existent hat and an amused grin, Tarrant limps off to the indicated location.
Julie glances toward the hallway, nodding with an automatic return of the salute, and ducks in with a chuckle at the skeleton comment.
Clara chuckles, pulling a cap from her pocket and tugging it over her curls to tie it closed. "I usually avoid knee surgery like the plague, but this one should be a learning experience. Plus he's a nice man. Want to handle anesthesia for me at first?"
Tarrant is gone for a while, but returns with his street clothes in hand, and the snapped scrubs on, although he looks mildly paranoid, making sure he's got all the snaps.
Julie emerges a few short moments later, decked up in pressed scrubs, and nods in answer to Clara. "Not a problem."
Clara flashes a grin of thanks at the other doctor and crosses over to hold her hands out to Tarrant for his clothing. "Why don't you let me have those. They'll be safe, I promise."
Tarrant hands over the clothing affably enough, although he cannot resist commenting, "Great, I think my mother warned me about redheads wanting my clothes."
Julie chuckles, eyes twinkling over her mask. "Smart lady, your mother."
Clara rolls her eyes and smirks, heading for a cabinet to pull out a small back-pack like bag and carefully insert the clothing into it. "Did she warn you about redheads stealing your clothes, tying you down, and knocking you unconscious?" Julie gets a raspberry as she returns to Tarrant to lead him to the operating room. "This way, please."
Tarrant makes a great show of being afraid and cowering and all before half-grinning and following Clara. "I should warn you, I'm not in to that kind of thing. And I'm taken."
And if Kramer shows up with butter and cinnamon, Tarrant is -so- out of here.
Julie snaps her fingers, mock-disappointed. "Dang, Clara, we're just going to have to find another one to tie up."
You knew it was going to happen. Yes, Clara blushes. Significantly. "Tar-rant. Good, heavens. I meant for the surgery! I already know Corian doesn't object to that, so -there-." She laughs at Julie, shaking her head. "Wait long enough. Niko'll break himself again and we can tie him down. Hop up here and lie down, Tarrant," she adds, patting the operating table.
Tarrant is all innocence as he uses his arms to lever himself neatly onto the table, tugging the bad leg up as almost a dead weight as he moves to lie flat. "I have to be evil," he explains. "I haven't gotten in my quota for the day."
Julie's mouth quirks as she begins inspecting the anesthesia equipment. "Not sure you're going to make that quota, sir."
Clara waggles her brows down at the man as she pulls up her mask and ties it behind her head. "Ve haf our -own- evil quotas to fulfill, mon ami," she utters, not in a cheesy German, but rather in a cheesy French accent. "Just give him the neural depressors. We need partial awareness without sensory reflexes or receptor trauma. Tarrant, you're about to truly be a sozzled owl."
Tarrant's brows lift at that, and he looks half-amused. "As long as you don't set about to boiling me, I think I'll be all right."
Julie sighs. "Next thing you know, he'll be telling us he doesn't want to be tickled either." She nods to Clara, lifting the device from the rack and approaching Tarrant.
Clara makes a frustrated noise behind her mask, pulling down the appropriate lights and instruments before tugging on a set of microgoggles. "Well, bother. Julie, go turn off the boiling oil. Guess we won't need it after all." She adds a rather more serious nod. "Begin anesthesia."
"I'm not ticklish," Tarrant asserts. Hey, he tried it with Corian, he can sure as heck give it a shot with these evil folks. He chuckles, "At least boil me in broth, oil's so hard to get out of clothes."
Julie gently places the depressors on Tarrant's forehead, checking the placement before flipping specific switches and giving Clara a nod. "Sorry, all we've got is chicken broth, and you don't seem the chicken type."
"We'll have to make it vegetable broth for Corian's sake," Clara promises affably, flipping up the visor on the goggles to work with unassisted vision for the moment, carefully covering Tarrant with a sheet from the chest down except for the damaged leg. "I suppose we can send Kramer to the market..."
"Bawk?" Tarrant murmurs, he'd probably get more creative, but see, he's half-gone to the world now, aware, but not excessively so. "If I get boiled, I think I don't count as a vegetable either way. Chicken's fine. Or fish. Fish is nice. Can't let it boil, it gets cloudy, gotta skim the proteins off without it boiling."
Julie wrinkles her nose a bit at that description. "Tastes better baked," she murmurs.
Clara glances up at Julie while unsnapping the pertinent pant leg, eyes dancing with amusement. "How 'bout that. I get a cooking lesson during patella reconstruction. I'd say he's already earning his keep. Special you are, Tarrant, but fish you aren't. At least, your chart doesn't mention gills." She slips a glove-like instrument over her wrist and tenses a finger to turn on the laser scalpel.
"Can't make bouillabaisse with baking fish. Gotta boil em," Tarrant attempts to 'explain' "Seventeen hours." He pauses a moment for consideration, "No gills, not that I've ever noticed. I'd notice that probably."
Julie chuckles quietly. "Seems like an awful lot of effort for... bouillabaisse. Whatever that is." She stretches her neck slightly, watching Clara's hands.
"Fish stew," Clara explains, eyes on her work as she carefully lasers open the appropriate area and begins to unhinge and undo old damage. "Sponge," she murmurs. "And clamp," she adds, in the mean time putting pressure on the vein in question. "Wonderful stuff, too. I think you'd have noticed gills, Tarrant. Or feathers. Any of those, y'think?"
"No feathers, nope. Fell out of enough trees as a kid, if I was going to learn to fly, I had my chance." Tarrant's words are heavily slurred with his accent, and he pauses often as he randomly drops into his own language, carefully switching back to Standard.
Julie offers the requested items unerringly. "You're flying fine right now, sir." Her eyes flick to the depressor monitors occasionally.
Clara gestures with her chin for Julie to put her hands in. "Go ahead and get the clamping. This synthplas has to come out. Take a look at this," she adds, brow furrowing. "Can you believe they missed any cartilage there?" She points the laser at one section without touching, then half smiles. "You fell out of trees? Or did you jump? You strike me as the kind of kid who tried to fly off the roof, my friend."
"Both," Tarrant murmurs, quietly, adding an amiable and cheerful explanation. In his native language. Gee, isn't that helpful? He does come back into Standard near the end, "But she was never really thrilled with the idea. Still, it was a good tree."
Julie scoots to a better angle, pausing a second to assess the situation before clamping off the vein. A mumble, somewhat derogatory in regards to whoever worked on the knee before, is pitched for Clara's ears only. She chuckles softly, listening to Tarrant. "Good trees are to be prized."
Clara trades an amused look with the other doctor, then nods as she focuses back on the work at hand. At knee. Whatever. "Trees are wonderful. Have you seen the treehouse Tarrant built, Julie? It's out in the park. It is -fabulous-," she exclaims, carefully removing various unwanted bits and pieces of poor Tarrant.
"Gardner helped," Tarrant explains in the careful tones of a drunk man. "He built most of it, I painted. Faster that way. He only had one day off. He has twins."
Julie smiles slightly, shaking her head. "I haven't been to the park since I first arrived here, so I assume it's been built since then?" Her mouth quirks in amusement. "Then I'm sure he'll appreciate the treehouse."
"Twins, hmm? Good heavens. He and his wife must have their hands full then," Clara decides, then mutters a quiet oath. "Julie, hold down that ligament so I can excise this bit?"
"Yeah, just got married. Adopted em when he did. Cute. Devious." Tarrant is really altogether out of it, coherency long fled, even if awareness hangs on.
Julie mhmmms, snatching up the proper instrument to press the ligament out of the way. Her expression is flatly neutral, though she keeps her voice light for Tarrant's benefit. "Just like you, eh?"
Clara's expression softens visibly even despite her intense concentration on getting the last stubborn bit of synthplas out. "Adoption is a wonderful thing," she agrees. "That was good of him, certainly. How about you, my friend? Any little Tarrants hopping about somewhere?"
"Not unless there's some great and disturbing flaw in the way the universe works," Tarrant replies with a snicker, otherwise quite unmoving. He hmphs at Julie, bemused.
Julie smiles beneath her mask, the expression showing in her eyes. "Oh? The universe only has room for one Tarrant Czolgosz?"
Clara laughs softly, then sighs with relief as the last stubborn bit comes out. "Okay, I'll reroute this artery. Be ready to resonate it as soon as I get it in place," she requests, clamping away. "Of course it does. He's a unique and original."
Errm, the joy of being drugged, Tarrant answers with total honesty. "No, but see, last I checked, unless one goes through some involved methodry, one has to have sex to have kids, and be genetically compatible. So, sorry, no kidlings."
Julie nods to Clara, murmuring an "Aye, ma'am" before astonishment shows in her eyes. Her hands remain rock steady despite the quick look she casts up toward Tarrant's face.
Clara doesn't look away from what she's doing, since it's a bit critical, although her eyes widen as well. "That is the usual method," she agrees, forcing her force cheerfully amiable. "Otherwise you end up with an entirely new religion. Can't see you spawning a new religion, sorry Tarrant."
See, this is why it's bad to be drugged and discuss one's sex life, or lack thereof, you get disturbing looks. Still, Tarrant's eyes are closed and he doesn't realize this. "Yeah, I'll leave creating Messiahs to Cori."
Julie's amused eyes flick to Clara. "Not that that would be a bad thing." Tarrant earns himself a look of slight puzzlement.
"I don't think Corian really wants to spawn any new religions either, Tarrant," Clara chides gently, sounding rather amused as she pauses to lean her forehead against the sleeve of her scrubs before nodding at Julie. "Resonate," she murmurs, then turns to resculpting the patella. "He's been having acute femoral patella syndrome. See where it's been grinding against the femur? No wonder it hurt."
"Yeah, too hard to figure out how to school the messiah," Tarrant murmurs before reverting to mumbling in intermittent Millian.
Julie mhmms, glancing over at the tray of instruments as she selects a resonator. Setting it precisely, she flicks it on with a hum of energy, her eyes steady on the resonating work. "Yeah, that would certainly explain the limp." Her mouth quirks under the mask. "I'm sure you'd find a way, sir."
"Maybe someone should start a private school for up and coming messiahs," Clara suggests, carefully melonballing, er, recarving the patella to a more workable shape, then reaching for a fresh synthplas extruder. "You understand that language he's speaking?" she murmurs at Julie.
Tarrant continues murmuring in Millian, maybe he's answering, maybe he isn't, he's very out of it indeed.
Julie shakes her head slightly, turning a few inches to get a better angle. "I don't even recognize it," she murmurs. "Languages were never my strong point though."
Clara hmms softly, carefully injecting new material to act as cartilage and replace ligaments long burned away. "Mine either. We could even think up a whole new curriculum," she adds, pitching her voice to the be-zonked patient. "Hydropedic 101, Holistic Miracles 308, Food Replication 204, things like that."
>>OOC: Clara expects to be struck by lightening at any moment. ;)
>>OOC: Tarrant snickers.
>>OOC: ZZZAP! Scorch. Wow, white tile burns nicely.
"Graduate work in crucifixion," Tarrant manages in Standard before falling quiet a moment. He adds after a moment, "Did you know your messy death would be a record breaker now..."
Julie chuckles softly, though it's cut short at Tarrant's words. "I'll take your word for it..."
Clara pauses in settling in the appropriate parts, then carefully keeps her voice airy. "Is that so, Tarrant? Doesn't sound like much fun to me. Now, why don't you just relax and tell me about...tell me about Corian." There's a safe subject, she hopes.
They don't know Millian, they're missing classical musical references, poor Tarrant. Once again he starts in his own language, thank goodness in this case, although he fades into drawled Standard, "Wonderful woman, pretty, and nice, and kind, and doesn't object to me, which is something, I'm awfully objectionable. Although she is going to turn into asparagus one day. And she's sneaky and evil, but just -looks- sweet and innocent."
Julie flicks a glance toward the monitors, then to Tarrant, and back to the operation again. "I would have to agree with most of those."
"I'd have to agree with all of it, actually," Clara responds to Julie with a grin, then bends her head. "Could you tie off this new tendon, please? And Tarrant, if you're a fish, I'd say Corian is more than allowed to be asparagus. Maybe she'll let us call her Gus for short?"
"No, see I'm the stray cat. Except I can't meow at her door." Tarrant is so randomly helpful. "It might offend her neighbors."
Julie nods, quickly getting the tendon taken care of. She does, however, give Clara an amused look- she just can't imagine Corian as sneaky and evil.
Clara has never -seen- Corian be either, but she's related to Riley and Honalee. It must be possible. She gently lays in another length of material with precision, taking another resonator and sealing it in carefully. "I'd say it would scare the neighbors were you to meow, though. A lion in the hallway. One heck of a meow."
"Lion in the hallway would be bad," Tarrant murmurs, words all but incomprehensible. "Scratch the floors with the claws."
Julie's mouth quirks as she nods unconscious approval of Clara's methods. "Maintenance would doubtless disapprove."
Clara lifts her hands and instruments away, using one wrist to flip down the visor on her goggles and examine the results thoroughly. "There's a microlesion on the anterior artery under the third tendon," she sighs, setting a thin section of synthplas in place. "Let's resonate that down, then replace the patella and close up. Do you see anything else we can do?"
Tarrant suggests cheerfully, "Carve in your initials?
Julie nods slightly, reaching for a different resonator this time. "I think you've got everything, Clara," she murmurs approvingly. She cannot, however, resist a snicker at Tarrant's words.
Clara lifts a brow at Tarrant, holding up her hand and revving the laser scalpel cheerfully. "Clara...was...here..." she enunciates, snickering and pretending to write...albeit a full half meter above the knee before letting the laser shut off and replacing the patella. "Okay, then. Let's close up. Tarrant, you've been good as gold. I assume you'll want chocolate after this is over?"
"Aww, not a lollipop? Isn't that the more traditional method of patient bribery?" Tarrant murmurs softly, still in a cheerful haze.
Julie chuckles. "Not in this ward, I'm afraid." She reaches for another trio of instruments in preparation for closing the surgery site. "Though I'm sure we could scrounge one up if you really want."
Clara carefully releases one of the clamps, a sponge held ready, then exhales a pleased sigh as it's unnecessary. "Count sponges, one. One. Okay, we're good to go," she decides with a grin visible despite the mask. "And I think Jones has some lollipops in his desk. I could raid them? But then he'd try to squoosh me. He's a big guy."
"No be-squooshing, no lollipop, no worries. Just happy to be getting a working knee," Tarrant murmurs softly.
Julie smiles. "An appreciative patient. How I do enjoy those."
Clara pulls her hands out of the way and nods gratefully at Julie. "Isn't he nice? Go ahead and finish closing. I'm going to comm Corian and have her here before we take him off the anesthesia."
Julie nods her agreement, shifting as she gets another instrument humming. "Almost done, Tarrant," she murmurs. "Just a few more moments. I think you probably won't even have a scar when we're done."
Tarrant resumed muttering in his own language, he doesn't realize he's not making sense.
Clara moves away a bit, stripping off her gloves and depositing them in a biohazard unit before tapping at the wall comm gently.
You say "Corian...Clara here. We're just finishing up surgery on Tarrant. Did you want to be here when he fully wakes up?"" into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and blares "Clara?" There's a bit of a pause before she continues. "Standard, yes, speaking Standard would help. I would very much like to be there, yes. If you give me a moment, I will be down right away." in Corian's voice.
You say "*laugh* If you know French, I can handle that too. Julie's closing up his knee. I'll meet you out in Medbay and bring you back to surgery." into the communit.
Julie is, indeed, finished in a few moments, and smiles down almost maternally over the restructured knee. "All done. You did very well, Tarrant."
"Not hard on m'part," Tarrant tugs back up into Standard. "Just had to lie here. Not exactly wild 'n crazy."
Your communit crackles to life and says "I know French, yes, but I do think that sticking to Standard would be best. *chuckle* I will be right there, thank you, Clara." in Corian's voice.
Corian arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara returns to regard the knee as well before grinning up at Julie. "As did you, Doctor. Go ahead and bandage him up just in case, if you will? I'll be back in just a few moments." She squeezes Tarrant's arm on her way out through the swinging doors, tugging her mask down as she exits.
Julie chuckles softly, giving Tarrant's shoulder a pat. "Nonetheless..." She blushes slightly, hearing Clara, and nods, turning to gather up bandages. "You like purple, Tarrant?"
Corian is, of course, waiting. She looks quite patient about it all, but there's a certain undercurrent of worry about her. Clara gets a quick smile when she emerges, and Corian inquires, "Is he all right?"
"Not gonna' object to it, nope. S'nice, sure." Tarrant probably wouldn't object to the suggestion that Julie chop of his leg though, either.
Clara grins and lets the mask fall about her neck, nodding amiably. "He's fine," she assures. "A little out of it, right now. I'll shoot his knee full of a local anesthetic, and you can bundle him off to wherever you want him. Would you like to see him now?"
Corian nods to that. "Please, yes," she replies, looking rather relieved at the reassurance. "How long will it be before he is back on his feet again?"
Julie looks pleased anyhow. She likes purple. Especially the lilac color of these bandages, which are quickly wrapped around the knee and set in place. "Good choice. Corian should probably be here soon," she adds.
"Tomorrow night, I imagine," Clara replies, leading the way back through the double swinging doors to the OR. "But I'd rather not have him doing commando rolls or tap dancing for a good two weeks. Tarrant? You have a visitor," she explains, moving away to start prepping a pair of hypos.
Tarrant seems rather confused by Julie's words, "Really, thought she'd gone off-world, didn't know she was still here..." His words are still slurred to near incomprehensibility. He tries dragging his eyes open at Clara's comment, but it's a lost cause.
Corian murmurs an acknowledgement to Clara's words, as she follows, and Julie gets a brief smile, but the focus of Corian's attention is Tarrant. She moves to his side, her smile warming. "I am right here, cha'trez--I am not due to leave until tomorrow. Though perhaps I will see if it can be put off a day or so."
Julie moves back from Tarrant to give Corian plenty of room, murmuring a quiet greeting.
Clara silently returns to Tarrant's knee, each hypo hissing as it's administered to either side of the joint. "Go ahead and get washed up. I'll be right behind you," she murmurs at Julie.
"Got the day mixed up," Tarrant murmurs absently, continuing in his native language, although he does not seem to notice the switch. Thankfully Corian does speak it.
Tarrant speaks in Millian.
Julie nods, gesturing toward the neural depressors in respectful reminder before she withdraws quietly.
Corian's brows arch sharply at Tarrant's words, a hint of mischief in her eyes. She does, however, respond in Standard. "I love you, too, of course, cha'trez. And how kind of Clara, to carve her initials in your kneecap. Now you are art."
Clara nods affably a the gesture. She'd remembered, but very much approves of the reminder as well. The hypos go into a different repository before she circles the table to the side opposite Corian and begins to shut down the depressors as unobtrusively as possible, then blinks, and laughs. "I didn't. I carved 'Clara was here' in it."
As the depressors are powered down, Tarrant gets to draw on the basics of coherancy again, although he's still somewhat out of it. And of course the first thing he does is turn neon-red as he remembers the various occurrences of discussion. "I think I need to avoid being anesthetized in the future."
Julie's soft, sympathetic laugh can be heard just after Tarrant's remark, over the sound of running water.
Corian flashes a quick smile to Clara. "Ahh, that is better. The more letters, the more artistic, after all." Yes, she's joking, though she sounds perfectly serious. She reaches for Tarrant's hand, brows lifting in inquiry at the blush. "Goodness, cha'trez, that is a lovely color."
Clara carefully removes the strip, then rests a hand on Tarrant's shoulder, looking down with a kindly smile. "Relax, my friend. Anything that was said in my OR, -stays- in my OR. Don't worry." She won't even call Corian Gus. Well, she'll try not to.
Tarrant does not turn any -less- red, that's for sure, although he does clumsily attempt to return the hand reaching. "Can I go hide in a hole now?"
Julie returns with a smile, clean and scrubs-free. "You'll play anywhere, won't you, Tarrant. Even in a hole."
Clara restrains herself from laughing, although she's visibly amused, and grins at the couple. "I'll go wash up while he wakes up a bit. I'll be back in a moment," she decides, and heads off to go wash up as well.
Tarrant does after all, wish to be a Hobbit.
Ah, but Tarrant has adventures! Of course, they make one late for dinner...
Corian nods amiably to Tarrant. "When Clara says you may, yes, as long as it is a hole with a bed." She nods to Clara, with a quick smile, then blinks at Julie's words, smile turning quizzical.
Tarrant squeezes Corian's hand carefully, although he does not object to the idea of beddage in holes, moving around has an exceptional lack of appeal just now. "Yeah, but I can't jump out of holes trying to fly."
Julie chuckles, clarifying for Corian, "Any man who'd build a treehouse..." She nods to Tarrant, amused. "Ladders are wonderful things."
Clara returns after a few moments, still in scrubs although sans her cap or the red-tinged operating apron, and pushing a wheelchair with a support for the leg to keep it fairly straight with just a slight bend, a bag slung over the handles. "Okay, we've got wheels and clothes. Need anything else?"
Corian lightly sandwiches Tarrant's somewhat larger hand between both of hers. Tarrant gets a fond look, and Julie a quick smile of understanding. "Cha'trez, I would appreciate it if you did not attempt to fly for a few days, yet." Glancing back to Clara, she shakes her head fractionally. "Nothing of which I am aware, except perhaps the patient?"
"A brain, a heart, courage?" Why is it this conversation is making no more sense with Tarrant coherent than it did before? "No flying, check."
Clara squints at Tarrant thoughtfully, then asks Corian, "You're sure you want him?" in mock puzzlement before grinning. "Okay, Tarrant. Time to sit up. Julie? Give me a hand hauling his carcass into the chair. Why is it I always get to operate on big lugs?" she asks rhetorically, feigning an air of martyrism.
Julie nods, gliding to the side of the bed to give Clara some assistance. "Height appears to be a requirement for males around here. At least, the ones that require surgery."
Corian releases Tarrant's hand at the mention of the transfer to the chair, after a brief squeeze. At Clara's question, though, she smiles quickly. "I am very certain, yes. Is there anything that I can do to assist?"
Tarrant fumbles to sit up, doing his dangdest and managing to be more or less upright. "If I knew how to shrink, I would, promise."
Clara grins back at Corian as she inserts herself under Tarrant's arm in an almost comical attempt to lift him...except that with Julie's help, it's entirely possible. "Perhaps you could hold his ankle to support the leg?" Tarrant gets a smirk. "No, I'm the shrink."
Julie rolls her eyes at Clara's pun, reaching for Tarrant's other arm. "Easy does it now..."
Corian moves quickly around the bed to do as Clara suggests, carefully supporting the leg in question, via the ankle. Her lips quirk at the pun, but she does not otherwise react to it.
Tarrant would groan at the pun, but his attention is rapidly taken up by the general moving process. He doesn't add a comment, instead stifling the worst of a wince as he is transferred from operating table to chair.
Clara is innocent, yes she is. She even looks innocent. "On three, ladies. One, two...three!" On the critical number, she puts her back into it to provide the primary lift from table to chair. Riley and Niko, she can't lift. Tarrant's closer to her capabilities. "There we go...all better. Corian? Need help getting him upstairs?"
Julie heave hos, giving Tarrant an encouraging smile. "Clara? Did you prescribe some painkillers?"
Corian assists on the appropriate number, then shakes her head to Clara's inquiry. "I do not believe so, no, if that is where Tarrant wishes to go." Tarrant gets a look of inquiry, to see if that is his preference, then she glances back to the answer to Julie's question.
Tarrant is really not quite answering questions just yet, the moving having been an adventure. After a pause however he responds, "If I wouldn't be intruding love. I know you've places to go tomorrow and all."
Clara snaps her fingers and grins at Julie. "Darn, caught me out," she sighs melodramatically and turn to go unlock a cabinet and rummage through it for a large bottle. She dumps a handful of the pills onto a tray and uses a metal strut to count out twenty and pour them into a bottle, then returns to offer this to Tarrant. "One, PO, BID, PRN. Or in real words, one every twelve hours if you need 'em."
Julie nods unconsciously in approval, though she blushes slightly. "Do not hesitate to take them, Mr. Czolgosz, if the pain becomes too great."
Corian shakes her head to Tarrant, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. "You will not intrude, of course, cha'trez. It will be good to have you there, and perhaps I will be able to delay the trip." No, she won't. Can't get out of that evil shower. She takes note of Clara's answer, and her lips quirk a bit at Julie's words. "Her advice is good," she murmurs to Tarrant. "Do take note of it, please."
Tarrant accepts the bottle with a nod of thanks, "Gotcha' will do." He nods to Corian, looking perhaps a bit relieved. "I'd appreciate getting to stay with you then." Shifting slightly in an attempt to look more alert he nods, "Thank y'all for everything, I appreciate it."
Clara moves back to allow Corian to spirit the abused man off, smiling warmly. "They're right, Tarrant. And comm me at any time if you need anything. And you're welcome. It's what we're here for. Goodnight, Corian, Tarrant."
Julie nods slightly, gesturing toward Clara with a professional smile. "What she said."
Corian moves to (wo)man the chair. "Goodnight, Clara, Julie. And thank you both. It is what you are here for, yes, but that does not make it any less deserving of thanks." And with that, she starts the bewheeling. Admittedly, it's a tad slow, but that could be intentional.
Tarrant is still trying to look alert, but he half-zones as Corian be-wheels, although he adds another murmured thank you and a, "G'night."
Clara continues to smile affably and nods again. "You're welcome, then. Goodnight," she repeats.
Corian heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Tarrant heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara keeps up the smile until the pair leave, then moves to sink down onto a rolling stool used for delivering babies, and pushes her hair back with a great yawn. "Ooooh. What a mess. I'd like to have a word or two with whoever patched him originally."
Julie's smile drops as the couple leaves. Watching the medbay doors swing shut, she mutters, "I'd like to get my hands on whoever originally..." She cuts herself off with a blink, giving you a startled look, and blushes.
Clara blinks back, then dissolves into laughter. "Welcome to the communal Medbay braincell. Wasn't it a mess?" She sighs and leans wearily against a wall. "He'll always limp...but hopefully it won't hurt as much now."
Julie smiles slightly, heading toward a chair and dropping into it. "And hopefully that'll make it easier for him to dodge plasma in the future."
Clara chuckles, shaking her head. "I don't play the odds for dodging plasma. I just give thanks that I've never been hit by it so I can keep patching these fellas up."
Julie mhmmms, still watching the door thoughtfully. "I'll ditto you on that one. Still, Mr. Czolgosz is a most... unique individual."
Clara's eyes sink shut for a moment before she nods slowly. "Nice man. Very nice man. Good for Corian," she decides somewhat quietly, hands slack on white-covered knees. "Get any civvies bought?"
Julie grimaces, dropping her gaze to her lap. "Half a dozen outfits."
Clara peeps one eye half open at the tone, brows lifting. "This isn't a good thing?" she asks, a faint accent lilting her words.
Julie chuckles wryly. "I really shouldn't have splurged."
Clara waves a hand affably, climbing to her feet with another yawn. "Splurging every once in a while's a good thing. Every woman should." She puts her hands to her lower back and stretches, then offers a half-grin. "But if you'll excuse me, I'd best get myself home. Oh-six-hundred's going to come early."
"Hmmm?" Julie glances down toward her chrono, and yipes. "I hadn't realized it's so late already. Well, they do say time flies when you're having fun." She gets to her feet as well with a stretch, adding, "Do stop by sometime. My decor's finally finished."
Clara yawns again and moves to tap at the wall comm for a moment to murmur into it, then blinks and shakes her head, laughing. "Okay, well, maybe I'll wait a bit and let someone get some real sleep in. You go on and crash though. No need for you to stay up till all hours."
Julie's eyebrows rise in inquiry, and she glances toward the comm. "Something wrong?"
Clara shakes her head with an affable, if somewhat vague grin. "Not a bit. Very right, in fact. Our dear CO is sound asleep, and this is a good thing. We had a spot of trouble the other day." Her face darkens slightly as she utters, "Cyanatic hypothalidrine."
Julie blinks. "Well that's not good. What brought that on?"
Clara shrugs, crossing towards the counter to put the bottle of painkillers away. "I imagine someone injected him with it. I very nearly didn't catch on that he'd been poisoned. The inability to breath, hypothermia...it was all there, but he also had a cold."
Julie's eyes widen. "Somebody's out to kill the Chief? Who'd do a thing like that?" She pauses, then mutters, "The same type of person who'd want him to suffer from a lack of deep sleep..."
"One doesn't make full admiral by thirty-five without making enemies," Clara replies softly, then sighs. "I expected to be without a lifemate by sundown...but he pulled through, thank the saints. And yes, the very same people. And the same people that would frame him for murder, the same that would..." She stops and swallows heavily. "Someone wants him dead. I just don't know who."
Julie takes a deep breath. "Got some sort of guard on him now?"
Clara looks disturbed for a moment at the question, then shifts her gaze to one side. "No," she replies quietly. "I could have. But he wouldn't want that...and I can't be dishonest with him should he ask. But he has all of Security, as well...and they're loyal. Very loyal."
Julie nods slowly. "So hopefully they're keeping on eye on him? Or do they even know about this attack?"
Clara nods, a faint smile quirking. "Oh, yes, they know. Or at least, Niko knows...and if one knows, they all do."
Julie mhmmms, folding her arms. "He should be safe then." She keeps her voice carefully confident.
"It would be so easy to contact Conley," Clara murmurs, eyes going distant for a moment before she nods in agreement. "That, and he's a bit of able to care for himself, as well. Dangerous as a snake, even if he doesn't look it."
Julie arches an eyebrow in feline-killing curiosity. "Conley?" She inclines her head at that last, though she notes, "He's being weakened by these various attacks though. That decreases his defensive abilities."
Clara shakes her head rapidly. "Nothing. Conley has nothing to do with this," she assures with a quick smile that fades slowly as she nods. "I know he is. I know, and I don't know what to do. I can only protect him so much. At least I've always been with him or close when he needed help..." But the unspoken hangs in the air that someday she may not be there, and it very obviously frightens her.
Julie shakes her head slightly. "No, I mean, who /is/ Conley?" The rest of the statement only seems to trouble her further.
Clara tilts her head. "General Lawrence Conley, five star general, head of Alliance Fleet medical." She grins faintly. "I've had the occasion to meet with him a few times. Interesting man."
Julie blinks. "That Conley." She opens her mouth, shuts it, and finally opens it again. "I'm sure he is interesting. What good would contacting him do?"
Briga arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Briga pads in, looking particularly woebegone...whiskers droop, ear tufts plane out and she is carefully holding her tail.
Medbay is quiet, but voices can be heard faintly through the doors to Surgery.
Clara shakes her head slowly, a somewhat sad smile in place. "Not any good that would be any good," she explains rather cryptically. "It's just a long story."
Briga peers around, ears swiveling back to rest flatly against her head, "Hello?" She calls out, well, yowls would be a more accurate description.
Julie glances up as soft footsteps make themselves known, and rises, gesturing for Clara to stay put. "I'll have to bribe you with hot chocolate then, at some point." Turning to Briga, she asks politely, "May I help you?"
Clara chuckles vaguely, then peers through the doors to surgery as Julie goes through them, rapidly schooling her face to perfect innocence and staying put indeed.
"My Tail" Zaeltan wails almost plaintively, 'Those terrible children jumped on it...It's broken.'
Julie arches an eyebrow, gesturing the Zaeltan toward a bioscanner bed. "Have you been here before, ma'am?"
Briga settles on the bed before rumbling her answer, 'Yes.'
Julie nods approvingly, turning toward the chart cabinet. "What's your name?"
Beyond the doors to Surgery, and thankfully unseen, Clara has her hand over her mouth firmly. She's not laughing, no. Not a bit. Well, at least not audibly.
"Briga Andressa Al-Saydun" She supplies, 'But my tail...Can't you wait for that until you have repaired my tail?'
Julie smiles slightly, finding the right chart and bringing it over to the bed. "I need to check your history, Briga. Wouldn't want me giving you medicine you're allergic to, now would you?" She flips the chart open, and adds with a touch more courtesy, "Pardon. Delegate."
Briga rumbles, with a definite plaintive edge to her tone. "Those awful children...My tail will never be the same.'
Julie nods absently, perusing the chart, and finally closes it and sets it aside. "Well, let's just see if we can try and make sure it will be the same, neh?" She takes up a scanner, running it over said tail.
Clara rolls silently over towards the counter on her chair, silently mouthing the words to a children's song to herself in the desperate attempt not to giggle aloud.
Ear tufts plane out to the side as Briga watches, 'Is that thing supposed to hurt?'
Julie shakes her head, nodding in satisfaction at the scan results. "No, that's just a result of the injuries to your tail." She glances up, setting the scanner aside. "The good news is, it's not broken. Just a little bruised and swollen."
Clara takes the strut from the counter that she'd used to count out pain pills with and waves it in time to the silent song, pausing to smirk at the diagnosis, very unsurprised.
Briga rumbles softly, "I knew that...But it /hurts/" Her voice rising into a soft yowl.
Julie winces visibly. "Please, Delegate, do lower your voice. I do have patients sleeping here." She doesn't quite stalk as she crosses the room to the medicine cabinet, unlocking it. Reaching for a bottle, she dispenses a thick, gloppy goo into another, smaller container. The young doctor relocks the cabinet, corks the new bottle, and returns to Briga's side. "This will help the pain and cause the swelling to go down. Just rub in into your tail where it hurts, every eight hours as needed for the pain."
Clara raises her brows at the closed door and the prescription, the carefully sets the strut down and gets ready to cover her ears at the reaction.
Briga peers at the bottle, then at the doctor, ear tufts completely flat against her head now. "What will that do to my fur?" She asks warily.
Julie holds out the bottle, firmly offering it to Briga. "It'll probably mat it up a bit for a while, but no harm will be done."
Briga pulls back from the bottle as if it were poison, 'It would do /what/ to my tail?' Undertones of a hiss can be heard with each word.
Julie arches an eyebrow, the professionally polite tone dropping from her voice. She sets the bottle down carefully beside Briga. "It will mat the fur. After you stop using it, wash it out with some conditioner. You shouldn't need to use it for more than a day or so."
Again more soft hissing, accentuated by a growl before Bri speaks, 'It will not do for my tail to be matted...not at all...Where is Dr. Aleron? She understands.'
Julie frowns severely. "Dr. Aleron is off-duty after having performed surgery. She requires rest." She shrugs, taking the bottle back again. "Very well." The doctor reaches for the chart, flipping it open as she pulls a pen from her pocket. She speaks aloud as she writes. "Patient... refused... medicine."
Briga considers her poor beleaguered tail, then again a soft yowl as she gently holds the tail, 'You refuse to treat my tail?'
Clara bites back a snicker and climbs to her feet, reaching up into the cabinet for a small bottle, then grabbing a sonic cleaner from a niche on the wall. Pausing before leaving surgery, she stifles her grin and slumps into the very picture of an exhausted military doctor, weary beyond compare, then pushes through the doors.
Julie's other eyebrow rises. "I did not refuse to treat your tail. You refused my prescription." She turns slightly as the doors open, nodding to Clara.
Briga growls beneath her breath, response bitten off and she turns as Julie does, ear tufts swiveling forward...Zaeltan's whole bearing shifts as she /purrs/ a gentle greeting. "Dr. Aleron...What a pleasure to see you."
Clara shuffles forward, dredging up a weary smile for the Zaeltan. "Delegate, good evening to you," she offers, the British lilt heavy in her voice. "Dr. Foster, what's the situation?" she asks, muffling a yawn.
Julie coughs slightly, offering Clara the open chart. "The Delegate has suffered minor contusions and abrasions between the twelfth and fifteenth vertebrae of her tail. I prescribed thoroxin to be taken every eight hours. The delegate... objected." She sounds miffed.
Briga tilts her head, her voice a gentle purr, "Please retire, Doctor..." She spares Julie a rather unfriendly growl as she adds, "That will mat my tail" Her tone implies that Julie might as well suggested that she cut off her tail.
Clara regards the chart through heavy-lidded eyes for a long moment, then looks up at Briga almost apologetically. "It's a perfectly good prescription, Delegate." She smiles faintly at the request, then ahs. "Tail matting. Of course. Such a dreaded occurrence, too." She sighs, and thinks for a long moment. "As it stands, I do happen to have a prescription I could recommend in place. Oh, but you mustn't blame Dr. Foster. I have every faith in her," she says with firm emphasis. "This would be something available only to me as Chief of Medical."
Julie turns to give Clara a startled blink, taking a step back from Briga with folded arms. However, she says nothing for the nonce.
Briga's dismissive look towards the younger doctor illustrates just how she feels. She turns to Clara with a grateful purr, "I knew you would be able to help me.'
Clara lowers her voice slightly to a conspiratorial tone to both women. "But this will be our secret, yes? Of course, Dr. Foster will know just what to do for you from now on, Delegate." She turns her back to fiddle with a tray for a moment, then turns back to offer a vial of tablets. "Tryptophan glucose. Take one three times a day as needed for pain. You should sleep like a dream tonight, and wake pain-free in the morn."
Briga takes the vial almost reverently, 'Take one three times a day,' she repeats very carefully, 'Yes, Dr. Aleron...I can do that, I most certainly can.'
Julie blinks again, and quickly ducks her head. After a few seconds, she repeats the name of the medicine to herself a few times, as if to assist in retaining it. Oddly, her voice no longer sounds quite so miffed.
Clara steps to the side to run the sonic cleaner over the ruffled section of tail, then smoothes it carefully. "There you are, Delegate. Lovely as ever. Now remember, tail never below a ninety degree angle! That's utterly essential."
Briga peers over her shoulder at her tail...then slips off the biobed. Her tail is held /precisely/ at a ninety degree angle as she offers Clara a deep bow, 'Thank you' she purrs gently. She turns to Julie and tells her solemnly, "Dr. Aleron is very gifted, I would advise you to learn from her."
Julie looks up after a moment, her expression perfectly smooth. "Oh, I agree with you, Delegate."
Clara is just as calm as she inclines her head and shoulders in a slight bow of her own. "You are most kind, Delegate. I shall endeavor to instruct my staff how best to care for your...special needs. Will that be all, ma'am?"
Briga bows again, voice a gentle purr... "I think I will retire now...and I thank you." With that she turns and gracefully pads out...tail help /precisely/ at a ninety degree angle.
Briga heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara is very, very careful to wait a moment after the delegate leaves, then all but hauls Julie into the short term care ward, face contorted with the effort not to laugh.
You pass through the swinging doors into the Short Term Care ward.
MEDIC> Julie blinks as she's all but hauled, but does finally allow some amused frustration to show in her expression.
Julie comes in from the medical bay.
Clara collapses onto the nearest bed in the empty room, howling with laughter. "I swear, someday I am just going to -lose- it, right in front of her!" The heavy accent is still there, but far more mirthful and relaxed than formal.
Julie's mouth quirks. "I admit, that was amusing."
Clara snickers and pushes to her elbows, shaking her head. "She's been in here a half-dozen times, always because of her tail. The first time I ever saw her, the lift doors had shut on it."
Julie ahhhs softly. "The tail's the thing then? This time it was 'terrible' children jumping on it."
"With which to catch the conscious of...well, someone, I'm sure," Clara agrees, vastly amused. "Children, was it? Likely the Sectassian horde. Wonderful little ones. Delegate Al-Saydun really is a sweet woman, but a hypochondriac to the nth degree. This isn't the first time I've given her placebos."
Julie nods, arms folded. "That doesn't surprise me. Funny, I didn't used to have this kind of trouble..."
Clara's brows quirk mirthfully. "Trouble? What, with hypochondriac diplomats?"
Julie pauses, and offers a sheepish smile. "Exactly. Of course, there aren't many hypochondriac diplomats aboard a cruiser, or on Sirius."
Clara drops back to link her fingers behind her head and grin up at the ceiling. "Is that what you really meant to say?" she asks gently.
Julie starts to blush. "Sort of?" She shakes her head. "Those I treated before were always military. They took orders- including prescriptions- a lot easier. Even the Zaeltans who never seemed to happy about thoroxin didn't protest."
Clara nods faintly, as much as she can while horizontal. "I thought it might be something like that." She peers over with a warm smile. "You've nothing to be embarrassed about, Julie. Handling a diplomat take years of practice or being raised to it. We military folk, we take orders because we know the value of hierarchical command. The delegates are truly another class...another mindset."
Julie grimaces. "Now I truly understand what you meant when you asked about my skills in diplomacy."
Clara chuckles, settling back to peer at the ceiling. "Delegate Al-Saydun is one of our more difficult patients. Chairman Lexington was far, far more difficult," she adds, all humor in her voice gone at mention of the Stilvani man. "Still, I call it patronization, when there's no diplomats about. Be overly nice to them, and they think you walk on water."
Julie nods, giving you a curious look for the sudden lack of humor. "I will keep that in mind," she murmurs.
Clara smothers a yawn, grinning back over as her head falls to the side. "Well, maybe not walk on water. But you saw what I did, and how the delegate reacted." She closes her eyes for a moment, hand covering her forehead. "Oh, bother. Stop the room, I want to get off."
Julie mhmmms, eyes narrowing. "Clara," she suggests softly. "You need to sleep, at the very least. Go home. Or at least let me help you to the couch in your office."
Clara waves the hand that was on her forehead, eyes still closed. "Non, non..." She mutters something in French, then half smiles. "It's empty in here. I'll crash right where I am for the night. No one will mind."
Julie glances around, and nods hesitantly. "It's your ward. Unless the Chief objects... and I'll vouch for your current condition if he does... you should be alright." The younger doctor heads over to the nurse's station, rummaging for a blanket. This she brings over, snapping it out of its folds, and lays it gently over the CMO, murmuring, "Sleep well, Clara."
Clara takes the moment you're at the nurses station to mutter a brief message into her comm, then smiles up gratefully for the blanket. "I just sent him a message for when he wakes. He won't mind so long as he knows where I am. Thanks, Julie. Sleep well," she suggests a bit blearily.
To: Riley
Subject: An IC message on your comm, for when you awake
==================================================================
"Good morning, darling," says Clara's recorded voice, thick with weariness and accent. "I know I'm not there, but you were sleeping so well last night, and I was so tired after surgery, I fell asleep in short term care. I do apologize, my love. I'll make it up to you tonight and try to cook without setting fire to anything. Comm me if you think about it. I hope you slept well." At that, the transmission ends.
Julie heads out the swinging doors into the Medical Bay.
MEDIC> Julie pauses by the desk, leaving orders for the forthcoming shifts to allow Clara to sleep herself out, then heads out herself.