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@christine-robin
It's a weird question, but...
Only if I can take a picture first. You know, Kodak moments and all that shit.
Right? Shit’s nasty. Don’t know if I’d ever miss MREs, especially when I have a full kitchen available for my use: Whenever. I. Want.
You're a sick son of a bitch, you know that?
Yes, I know, and you've got your own bathroom, too, in a private suite all for yourself, and so on and so forth. I'm already jealous; you don't need to rub it in.
It's a weird question, but...
Ooh, the badass cred. Can’t have them coming for that - what would you do if the scientists didn’t scurry as you came running?
I…well, shit, it’s nothing. Exactly that. I mean, nothing. I don’t know what to do with myself, Robin.
I don't even want to think about it. If there ever comes a day when I lose that, when I can't make them flee with a look, you have my permission to do away with me. Just put me out of my misery. I don't know what I'd do, otherwise.
That makes two of us. At least we're not still in the fucking med bay. There was less than nothing to do in there, and Christ, were you ever right about the food. It actually made me miss MREs.
It's a weird question, but...
…oh.
Yeah, fine. I mean, I wouldn’t want anyone punching me down there anytime soon, but it’s fine. Yeah. How’s the leg? I noticed you didn’t waste anytime getting rid of those damn crutches.
Can you blame me? They were putting me at risk of losing my badass cred. I considered a cane at one point, but that's Swan's territory. Didn't want to tread on that.
You gonna tell me why you're drowning yourself in paperwork, or am I going to have to beat it out of you? I know your weak spot.
It's a weird question, but...
Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about.
Like, literally. We haven’t done anything.
I meant did you want to talk about what's going on with you, not―
How's the stomach?
It's a weird question, but...
Shit doesn’t get done unless someone does it.
Other people's paperwork is not your responsibility, Fish. Nice try, though.
Want to talk about it?
It's a weird question, but...
…anyone have any paperwork? You know, basic stuff?
Out of the med bay and already chasing down more paperwork. You need an intervention.
Goldilocks and the Bear | Robin + Toadie
Everything passed by in a blur as Robin made her way from the medical bay to the dormitory, walking at a steady pace with the assistance of a single crutch. Considerable progress had been made in the week following the end of her medically induced coma, and after a battery of tests, she was finally released on the condition that she would attend regular check-ups and continue with rehabilitation exercises to regain full use of her leg. In all likelihood, she would have agreed to care for Frost's pesky feline if it would have guaranteed her clearance to leave the infirmary.
The days had been long and dull, with the occasional break in monotony whenever someone came along to check her vitals or she was able to sneak out of her room. And Fish had not exaggerated when he'd lamented about the quality of food brought to them. Robin had considered a hunger strike on the second day to protest the slop being passed off as meals, but with the idea to passively revolt had come the realization that the only way the stubborn act would be effective is if someone was capable of making any changes for the better, and no one in medical seemed to be. So she'd abandoned the plot altogether and picked at the thrice-daily offerings, eating what she could stomach and pushing aside whatever was left.
A stop at the cafeteria had crossed her mind the morning of her release, but the last round of tests she'd been subjected to had left her drained and grumpy, and she had her mind set on curling up in her bunk for a nap while the dorm was empty and everyone else was off performing their respective duties. Her sleeping patterns had been irregular from the start, and in no way improved by her stay in the med bay, and so she would indulge in her exhaustion now, while she had the opportunity to sleep without disruption. Food could wait.
Stepping into the dormitory, Robin was satisfied to see it empty ― until her gaze settled on the perplexing scene before her.
"What the fuck," she breathed. Someone had stripped the blankets and pillows from several bunks ― seemingly at random, as there was no discernible pattern to the ones that had been targeted ― and left their spoils all in one spot: on her bed. There were a few oddballs aboard the ship, no doubt about it, and whichever one of them was responsible for this scene would hear about it. She was in no mood to be cleaning up after someone else.
"I'm out for two fucking weeks and come back to this."
Scanning the room for any signs of the perpetrator, she continued to grumble under her breath even as she came to a stop at the foot of the bed and began to disassemble the mountainous mass of fabric, grabbing at the first layer she could reach. She tossed it aside, onto the mattress next to her, and turned back to retrieve another, when suddenly the entire pile of blankets moved. Confused, Robin withdrew and stared down at it, wondering for a half-second if she had imagined the movement, if her own tiredness was beginning to have a hallucinatory effect on her, before the bunk shifted again and a boot emerged from under the covers.
Mens boot, standard issue, size eleven ― or was it a twelve? ― with the laces undone and tangled in an impossible knot.
Toadie.
"Rise and shine, Goldilocks," she announced loudly, smacking at his boot. "This bear wants her bed back."
Phetsta ft. Reija Lee // Run You Down
Salvation | Hargrave + Robin + Stark
"Well, we got the black box, but what use is it? They’ll find whatever the fuck they want in it, but we’ll still be up here." Fish sighed softly. The explosion had taken away what little passion he had had for the mission - there had been very little to begin with, and between his own injuries, worrying about Toadie, and trying to figure out what the hell was up with Robin, he was already exhausted. Then again, maybe it was just the mild painkillers speaking for him.
"Everytime we wander out there, some shit manages to happen, and it’s been what - twice now? Who knows what the fuck else will go on?"
Robin would understand, right? She had gotten injured, too. Wasn’t she angry? Just a little? Looking up at her, Fish tried to find any sign of outrage in her features. It was funny, he thought, how the light softened her face slightly. Less harsh than usual. It was a beat too long that he was staring, and then he looked back down at the floor and the direction they were going.
"I think you feel…I think you feel cold," he echoed. Levity was hard to achieve in any situations, but with Robin, it was a little easier. And a little harder. Well, maybe not harder, but it made him feel weird. Like he didn’t know if he was saying the right thing or not. "You still up and running?" Fish glanced up briefly before looking at where her fingers gripped the crutches. It was hard to meet her gaze for too long. "I mean, I don’t want the docs to scalp me for wearing you out."
Resignation. It was in his voice, in the indignant musings about the dangers faced and potential threats ahead, in the way he threw each turn of the wheels forward again and again. Robin understood his anger. He had a right to be furious about what had transpired in the field ― he'd nearly lost his life to an accident that could have been prevented with a little more protective gear and a little less neglect on the part of any crew members with knowledge of the risks the ruins presented. Were it not for the medical staff (and the mercy of whatever deity it was that kept granting her second chances), she could have very well faced the same fate, or at the very least lost her leg, and with it, the ability to carry out her duties as a mercenary for the remainder of the expedition. But when he looked to her for validation, she struggled to do anything more give him a one-shouldered shrug. Something was preventing her from echoing his defeatist sentiments. Maybe the morphine was doing more than blocking her pain receptors.
"We have to ride it out, Fish. We knew when we signed the dotted line that there was a chance that we could end up here, in a wheelchair and on crutches ― or worse. You and I... we have to dust ourselves off and get back up. We have a job to finish, and we can't get hung up on anything that'll keep us from doing it."
It felt odd, being the reassuring one, especially to a commanding officer. To Fish, of all people. And so she decided to divert the conversation away, to something lighter ― not because she couldn't handle a grim discussion or two about their circumstances, but rather because she wanted to get him thinking about something other than what could have happened and what might happen.
"Is that what you think you're doing? Wearing me out?" A roguish grin tugged at the corner of Robin's mouth as she repeated his words. "I'm fine. I can handle this. Nobody's going to scalp that pretty little head of yours." She looked down at him, meeting his gaze for a second before his line of sight flickered lower, to where her hand was curled around the grip of her crutch. Her brow creased in confusion. He'd been doing that a lot lately, nervously averting his eyes from hers, and she wanted to know why he was acting so damn weird.
"Hey," she said casually, lifting the crutch closest to him to tap the tip lightly against the side of his wheelchair, "is there something wrong with my face? Are my cybernetics malfunctioning? 'Cause I'm noticing that you're having trouble looking at me."
Losers - No Man Is An Island
Oi.
"Relax" my fuckin’ ass. [Toadie gave her a measured look up and down, seeing the woman adjust her stance— he’d never seen her in action, but he knew she was ex-military, and if she’d made the cut as a mercenary on top of that, she was no slouch. He clenched his fists repeatedly, unable to do much beyond that with his left hand, but flexing his right arm with each step he took, pacing out a small arc back and forth in front of Robin. Her eyes followed his movements. He wanted to fight somebody, extract information, summon his brother by breaking faces and ribs until he showed up, healthy and whole; but Toadie was still weak from hypersleep, one-handed, and even if he hadn’t been, he suspected she was not the one to test, nor was she a particularly productive target in the first place. Didn’t make him any less wound up or pissed off.] They sent y’all into a fuckin’ death trap an’ had my brother gutted an’ in a wheelchair. Fuck “okay,” an’ fuck fuckin’ “peace.”
Nearly died and sleeping, huh? Takin’ a page outta my book. How long ago was this? How long have I been under?
[Toadie's appraising look did no go unnoticed by Robin. She watched him closely as he paced the floor before her, clenching and unclenching his fists as he moved. The differences that set the Stark brothers apart were quite clear to Robin, but as the younger of the two twins paced before her, spitting curses like venom, she couldn't help noticing a distinct similarity in the way that they both carried themselves when irritated.] He's fine. Doing better than most people would be, if they'd suffered the same injuries. I know you want to see him, but let him sleep. I don't think he's been getting much since the coma. [She could tell that Toadie was looking for a fight, and she would be all too willing to give him one if he provoked her. Her own struggles with sleep had set her on edge, and the bearded Stark was about to push her over.]
It happened about a week and a bit ago, I think? I woke up four days ago, and Fish had told me then that I'd been out close to a week. I haven't exactly been marking this shit down on a calendar. [Robin's gaze fell on the brace locked around his left arm as he stalked past her again, continuing his pacing. There were few secrets about the lives certain crew members led before they signed on for the expedition, and Toadie's demons were more notorious than others; deducing what had transpired following the Beta team's departure from the ship was easy enough.] You gonna be okay?
Oi.
Didn’t realize I could make an appointment. …The engine blew?
Fish. Holy shit, nobody told me— fuckin'— I'll kill the bastards. [All humor gone from Toadie’s demeanor, he scowled, his face stormy and reddening with a rapidly-growing rage, directed at the medic who woken him, the doctor who wasn’t there to unlock him arm, the Director for leaving him behind to begin with, and everybody and everything he’d seen who hadn’t told him in the meantime; but the other mercenary’s barb didn’t go unnoticed, either.] Yeah? Go fuck yourself, Robin. Where’s my goddamn brother?
[It was as if a switch had been flipped; he was raving now, anger contorting his features into hard lines. Robin held a hand up between them, her palm open toward the rageful mercenary, a warning for him to remain calm.] Relax. [The command came out in a hiss. She had not expected him to take the news lightly, but the fury in his eyes and the perceptible tremor in his hands put her on the defensive. Dropping her hand back to her side, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and back again, testing the returning strength in her injured leg. Toadie was unpredictable, as evidenced by his newly acquired arm brace, and on the off chance that he was contemplating choking out the next medical staffer to pass by, she would have to be ready to intervene.] He pulled through. The shrapnel did a number on his internal organs, but they were able to remove it and repair the damage. He's okay. Christ, he was up and wheeling himself around when they pulled me out of my barb coma.
I think he's sleeping right now. Leave him be, okay? Let him have a little bit of peace before he finds out about your new accessory.
Oi.
Y’catch mo’ toads with honey, honey. Word t’the wise.
Coma, huh? No fuckin’ kidding. I ain’t got money for a striptease nohow. Yeah, I been down since about then, gettin’ my beauty rest. Why?
Duly noted.
Maybe later, then, yeah? [Robin chewed her lower lip, all amusement draining from her face as the memory of his brother's desperate screaming filled her head. She hardly wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but he had a right to know.] It was some serious shit, Toadie. The engine blew. It had been sitting too long or something, I don't know, and with us being there, searching for that damned black box, shifting shit around... it exploded. I wasn't the only one who got hit. Fish got himself... well, gutted, for lack of a better word. Shrapnel in his stomach. No one's told you? I guess your need for beauty rest trumped all else.
Oi.
And here I was gonna loan you my pretty new bracelet.
…No shit. An’ I missed all the fun? All the juicy shit happens while I’m sleepin’. You ain’t look too blown up t’me, you’re fuckin’ wit’ me.
Oh, just my luck.
Yes, unfortunately for you, you missed all of the fun. I was out a week after we got back. Induced coma. Had a piece of shrapnel embedded in my thigh; almost lost my leg. I'd show you the damage, but I don't take my pants off for just anyone.
...Wait― you just woke up? They've had you under since we left?