Eggshells ((Medical and Psychiatric Ward, or Infirmary))

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Eggshells ((Medical and Psychiatric Ward, or Infirmary))

Postby Connal Reid » Mon Jul 30, 2012 12:00 am

« Thread Started on Jul 26, 2011, 1:26am »


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Gene refrained from knocking on the door. He didn't want to disturb the Medic, not when he already knew what he was looking for. Among other things, the term he served taught him how to knock out a full grown man writhing in agony. It wouldn't take much effort to put a few nightmares to rest. Just a few pills, ones every medical ward should have in stock.

So he slipped in unannounced and started for the cabinets, mindful of his boots against the (relatively) pristine floor. The rubber would squeak, and he didn't want to give away his position; he treated this like some sort of espionage mission for his sake as much as his teammate's. Trivial things like this shouldn't take away from time that could be spent sloughing away paperwork.


Tom Cucinotta wrote:Gene appeared to be alone in that miniature hospital-but in reality, he wasn’t. While the Engiener was busy looking for pills, a certain Medic was busy cleaning the “soft room”. It was rather dusty, but seemed fine otherwise. Nonetheless Tom saw it as his duty to keep it, and the medical ward, clean. Wearing his usual uniform, the man stepped out of the padded room-only to stare when he saw another man, dressed in red, fiddling around in the cabinets. “Hey!” He started, his voice loud and demanding attention. “What do you think you are doing?” Boots tapping along the tiled floor, Tom swiftly moved over to the other and pulled him away from the cabinets, slamming them shut and standing in front of the.. surprisingly shorter man. Using what little height advantage he had, the Leader of RED straightened his back, his arms crossed over his chest. Though, after a moment, his face softened. This was another RED. And he was thankful for that.
“Signore.. please. This is not how you get help here.” Tom spoke, a small grin making the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. “You have to speak to me, first. But I suppose you’re too new to know that, si?” Leaning forward, the Medic gripped the other’s shoulder, and started to steer him towards a bed. “Come, now. Tell me what ails you.” Reassuring-and yet… the hand on Gene’s shoulder was tight. Ordering. Releasing his grip on the engineer, Tom moved to sit down on a wheeled stool, having motioned for the other to sit down on the bed.


Eugene Jefferson wrote:For what it was worth, Gene didn't jump when he heard the Medic's voice. He froze though, hand lingering in mid-air, inches away from his goal. His eyes flickered back through the lens of his goggles. Everything looked vaguely amber in hue, and Gene had no idea if it was his eyewear or just the man's complexion. "Gettin' somethin'," he answered in a quiet yet even voice. He allowed himself to be yanked aside, though. He wasn't looking to cause any trouble. Certainly not on his first day.

He had expected a little more fire and less forgiveness. Gene couldn't help but smile when it required minimal effort to win the Medic over. "Yeah, I-- I should've asked. I just didn't want to bother ya. Ya looked so engrossed in your work," he answered, a faint drawl tinging his speech. Gene did his best to look apologetic while he was reprimanded. Really. This misunderstanding was his own fault.

"Oh, that." Gene let out a soft sigh before settling down. "I just wanted to grab some sleepin' pills. I wouldn't call it insomnia, but I have some trouble gettin' to sleep." And while he must've looked odd - an impromptu patient with all his gear still on - Gene kept the helm on so long as he kept his goggles on. He felt naked without them, as if he wasn't abiding by his duty.


Tom Cucinotta wrote:“Ah, work? I was just cleaning,” Waving a hand dismissively, the Medic leaned forward a bit, his hands folded. “I see. Well. Sleeping pills are no trouble, none at all. Although I am a bit curious-what is it you’re having trouble with? Just getting to sleep, bad dreams.. anything else of the sort? Perhaps a regular sedative might be better to help you calm down.” Moving to stand up, the Medic gestured for the Engineer to stay seated, while he went off to his desk, grabbing a clipboard and pen. “I have to document these things, signore… Ah. I don’t quite think I got your file, yet. What is your name?” Settling back down on the wheeled stool, the Italian poised his pen over the paper on his clipboard. “I have to document these things, you understand. I cannot simply allow myself or the other Medics to hand out pills like candy.”


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Gene gave a roll of his shoulders. As far as he was concerned, cleaning was still work. It may not have required the utmost concentration, but it was still a hassle when interrupted. "Work is work," he insisted.

"I guess I have to place some faith in doctor-patient confidentiality, don't I?" Gene glanced at the floor for a moment before meeting the Medic's gaze. "I'm still sufferin' from some mild shell shock. It's fatigue. Nothin' too serious." Save for the stigma attached to such a jarring condition. He looked flustered but didn't break eye contact.

With a soft smile, Gene introduced himself, "Eugene Ross Jefferson. But call me Gene." His smile erupted into a chuckle at the Medic's joke. Or maybe it wasn't a joke. Still, it tickled his funny bone.


Tom Cucinotta wrote:Nodding gently, Tom leaned back a bit, crossing one leg over the other and then placing the clipboard on his raised knee. “Yes. I assure you, what you tell me, I tell no one else. Or I will at least try to. My superiors.. if they ask, I must answer.” Bright blue eyes watched Gene’s for a moment, and then they were looking down, the Medic scribbling down a few things. “Ah. You have experienced war before, then?” The Man tentatively asked, glancing down to write the other’s name. At least it was easy to spell. “Gene, then.. well. I am Tom. I am the Leader of RED. At least, I am the leader of what has come my way. You are the second one to come here.”
Twirling his pen around his fingers, the Medic uncrossed his legs, shifting forward a bit. “So, the only thing is this.. ah.. shell shock? Nothing else is bothering you, right?” The other man’s smile brought a smaller one to the Medic’s face, although it seemed that he was the kind of person that didn’t smile a lot. “… I would also like to mention I offer psychological services, if need be.” Tom added, his pen tapping against his clipboard.


Eugene Jefferson wrote:The chain of command, always muddling with the underdogs, so be it. "Right, I understand that." Gene didn't care if their superiors caught wind of his medical issues. Those sort of things were on file, and should have been reviewed by his employers before he was yanked out of Texas.

Gene grimaced. He didn't want to talk about his past. True, it was down in his dossier and part of his resume, but he hated having to explain what he did. "I was in Vietnam," he answered in a clipped tone, one that suggested that that was all Tom would get out of him about it. For now at least. He'd never delved into the specifics. The memories were still too fresh, the emotions much too raw.

A look of surprise crossed Gene's face. It lasted but a second, though. What a bizarre coincidence. "Pleasure's all mine, Tom." His warm molasses voice returned, no longer tempered by the stain of war. "Second one, huh?" he echoed, wondering if he'd get any clarification.

Gene didn't know what else to call it but shell shock. He'd seen old friends suffer through it. He just got off luckier than most. "Nope. Just that. It keeps me from sleepin'. Nightmares are common." And while he appreciated Tom's offer, Gene replied with little enthusiasm, "Sorry, doc, but I didn't come by for a shrink. I just need pills."


Tom Cucinotta wrote:Bright blue eyes flickered up to the Engineer for a moment, and then they looked down again, the Medic writing away in his delicate, cursive handwriting. Vietnam. Psychology wasn’t his specialty, but he knew enough about that and the war to get an idea of what was bothering Gene. Though, when he glanced up again, he saw the Engineer staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it. He’d find out later.
“Yes. I came here first, was alone for about a week. Then we got a Spy. Then there was… well. There’s just the Spy. Anton. He.. does not speak very much.” Flipping his pen through his fingers again, the Medic frowned. “Well. All right, then. Just some sleeping pills with be sufficient.” He didn’t say anything when the other declined his offer, but instead he started writing again, stopping and placing the clipboard face-down on the bed behind him, and then standing to go over to the cabinets, gloved fingers fiddling through various bottles, before finding one and pulling it out. “If you have any other medical problems, you can come to me. I do physicals, blood tests.. Although my specialty is Surgery, I know how to do things well enough.”


Eugene Jefferson wrote:What had Gene expected? Tom was a very common name. He was bound to run into someone who shared a name with his brother. He just didn't think it'd rattle him so much. Hopefully this little development wouldn't impair his decision-making skills. It was too early in the game for express favoritism. That sort of shit got people killed.

Gene nodded as he followed along, making sure to catch every word. He respected authority, and if Tom was their leader, he was obligated to pay his respects. "Is he shy?" No, that didn't make sense. A soldier couldn't afford to be timid and meek. Gene mulled it over in his head.

"Thank ya kindly." He accepted the bottle with an upturned palm and closed his fingers around it. "All right. I won't bother ya for much, though, since I've a little experience with medicine. Might be risky taking my own blood, so I'll come to ya for that."

And as he turned to leave, Gene paused. He glanced over his shoulder. "Do ya need help with anythin'? Heck, I could start a pot of coffee or kettle for tea. Shouldn't be too difficult to find."


Tom Cucinotta wrote:Shaking his head, Tom fingered the pill bottle for a few moments, before handing it over to Gene. “No. He cannot talk very well. Lung problems.” Moving to sit back down, the Medic reached behind himself and took hold of the chart, tucking it at his side. “All right. Don’t do anything stupid, you understand? I am either here, or in my office if you need me.” He was standing then, moving over to his desk and filing away that little sheet that was on the clipboard, looking busy as usual.
He didn’t respond at first-and it was hard to tell if the man had even heard Gene, but then he nodded quietly. “Coffee would be nice. It helps me stay awake when going through paperwork. By the way, I didn’t catch what class you are.”Glancing over at the Engineer, Tom waited, his hands flipping through papers idly.


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Gene raised a brow. He heard rumors about Spies being chain smokers. Some silly tidbit that the younger recruits kept on sending around. He doubted that was the cause behind his Spy's medical concerns, but that didn't stop the notion from coming to mind. "I see. Poor fellow."

Muscle memory forced a crisp salute. "Sir, yes sir." Gene let his arm fall back to his side and his upright poster began to slouch. Such formalities seemed out of place in this eerie encampment.

Gene was already at the threshold when he caught Tom's request. He stopped again. "Coffee it is. And I'm an Engineer." He tipped the bill of his helmet and went on his way.


Tom Cucinotta wrote:Tom’s eyebrows rose at the others’ salute, a bit taken aback by the submissive-though confident-gesture. His face, creased and tanned as it was, broke into a smug smile at the others’ words. He would have plenty of things to talk to Gene about when he got back. The hole in the common room’s ceiling.. the generators.. so many things. Once the other man was out of the room, Tom made the sign of the cross over his chest, bringing his fingers to his lips and thanking god.

By the time Gene got back, the Medic was going through the cabinets, looking through the various medications and other medical tools. There was a small, metal cabinet that was open-though only because of a key in its lock. Scrutinizing its insides, the Leader of RED pulled out a clear, glass bottle, the frown on his face deepening as he read what was on it. Placing it down, he moved to another one, and then stared. Glancing at all the labels, Tom made a startling realization. They were all illegal substances. Why? Digging through them, he didn’t even seem to notice if the other man came in or not, but rather was going through the various bottles, glasses, and bags filled with god knows what.


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Gene came back holding two empty mugs and a kettle of tea. He eyed the man at work and caught a glimpse at one of the bottles-- and cleared his throat. "I'm back. I'll just set this over by the desk." He took a seat for himself, knowing better than to poke his nose where it didn't belong. Judging from Tom's body language, the Medic had no idea what he'd stumbled upon either. Fair enough, Gene kept his mouth shut.

A medical ward didn't often generate feelings of security or warmth, but Gene felt rather cozy as the warm liquid slid down his throat. He closed his eyes - not that you could tell thanks to those goggles - and leaned two legs off his chair.


Tom Cucinotta wrote:Waving a hand dismissively, the Medic stared at the bottles, and then hurriedly began to put them back, and then locked the metal cabinet shut. Murmuring in Italian, the man moved to sit back down at his desk, sighing softly. “I don’t know why they give us those things… we’re not supposed to have them…” Tom appearing to be talking to himself, his bright eyes glazed over as he stared at his desk-and the he blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. He looked up at Gene, and then nodded quietly, his face going back to it’s typical neutral expression.

“Yes, ah. Well. There was an incident the other day… how good are you at woodwork? One of the floors.. broke.” Sighing, the Medic ran a hand through his hair, not even bothering to touch his cup. “There is.. honestly a lot of work that needs to be done. Woodwork and otherwise. We have generators that need checking… and just.. things in general.” He sounded honestly apologetic, as if he felt bad that he had to give Gene all the bad news of things in disarray and in need of repair.


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Gene smiled at being put to work. He didn't mind taking care of all those tasks. It was what they paid him to do, wasn't it? You couldn't bear the title of Engineer if you didn't know how to fix a simple hole in the floor. "Decent enough. And I saw. I left you a note on the bulletin." Gene sipped from his tea again. "Draw up a list and I'll take care of it." Better to have something to do than too much idle time. Otherwise Gene would get antsy, at least until the pills kicked in.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the cabinets. He couldn't help but wonder why they were present in the medical ward - maybe his curiosity would eventually be sated. Just not today. Maybe he'd design a lock for it. Whatever else was in there sounded dangerous in the wrong hands.
Last edited by Connal Reid on Wed Aug 08, 2012 7:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Eggshells ((Medical and Psychiatric Ward, or Infirmary))

Postby Connal Reid » Mon Jul 30, 2012 12:21 am

Tom Cucinotta wrote:Folding his hands in his lap, the Medic nodded gently. “Ah. I think I saw that. Along with…” Trialing off, the RED frowned, and then ran a hand through his hair. “Understand that the only members of this team are you, me, and Anton. At the moment, anyway. “ Leaning forward, he pulled out a drawer from his desk, taking a notepad and a pen. Quickly he began taking notes, his neat, cursive handwriting making it all the easier. “Yes. The floor, the generators.. perhaps you could look at the tank as well.. still don’t know why we even have those things..” Murmuring to himself, the man scribbled here and there, before tearing off the piece of paper and handing it to Gene, a grateful look on his face.

“I appreciate this, really. It will not go unrewarded, or unforgotten.” Tom added, a small smile pulling at the corners of his thick lips. “I can’t… I still don’t know why they would send us those things…” He waved a hand, motioning towards the metal cabinet. “Every illegal substance you can think of… all here. I’m not sure why.” Shrugging to himself, he leaned back in his chair, a hand over his belly.


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Gene gave a curt nod. Whoever Riley was had lost favor with their fearless leader. Poor guy. He wondered where the raw recruit was and how he managed to piss off their Medic. Not that it seemed difficult to do so. Gene ran into a lot of folks with short fuses before. The best method of approach was to stay quiet and nod along.

He accepted the piece of paper and looked it over. Now he had a full schedule ahead of him. "Don't mention it. I'm doin' my job is all." He looked up and over, frowning at the cabinets in question. "I've a few hunches of my own, but I don't think it's my place to say." Not if it went on the record.


Tom Cucinotta wrote:A smirk on his tanned face, Tom nodded. He then leaned down to glance through some papers, before letting them go. He would look those over later. And see if Gene’s file had come in. Glancing behind himself at the metal cabinet, the Medic sighed, shaking his head. “They.. have so much illegal things in there.. I honestly cannot think of why they would have them. Maybe to reward my team? That.. that seems silly..”


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Gene removed his lips from the rim of his mug. He was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke, "We're better off not knowin'." Ignorance was bliss. It was easier to get by in life, unaware of the hardships, of the darkness lurking just around the corner, ready to engulf you in a heartbeat. Gene finished his first cup and poured some more, saving plenty for Tom. "Don't let it get to ya. I'll make ya a heavy-duty lock and the rest of the team won't accidentally go pokin' around."


Tom Cucinotta wrote:The Medic was not so much in agreement, but he let it slide for now. He needed to know these things, much more then the Engineer did. "Perhaps. I'll.. inquire about it later." Waving a hand, the Medic frowned a bit, leaning back in his chair. The last thing he needed was to have the medical ward raided by drug addicts. Anton popped into his mind, but the man didn't seem like the type anymore. Besides a smoker.

Rolling his shoulders, the older man ran a hand through his hair. A sigh followed, and then a nod. "Yes; that would be very helpful. I would rather not have to stay here constantly in fear of the cabinets getting raided. Perhaps I should get locks for all of them..." Musing, the RED moved some papers on his desk, flipping through them idly. "Well. It's very good to have you join the Team, Gene. So far it's only us three, but I think it will be fine." A faint smirk followed after, as if the man was honestly happy to have more people coming to fight with him. Or perhaps he was lonely.


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Neither approving nor disapproving of the Medic's curiosity, the Engineer busied himself with the drink that he'd prepared. It'd be a shame to let the tea go to waste, and he took care in remembering to drink it before it grew cold. He hoped Tom knew what he was up to. Gene wasn't very keen on getting involved with any secret black market trade going on through Swamp Rat or whatever.

Gene smiled. "The pleasure's all mine. I'll try and keep things in tip-top condition." He'd be running around far too often to keep an eye on his teammates 24/7, so he'd make the most of getting to know them now.


Tom Cucinotta wrote:Gently, the Medic ran his gloved fingers across his desk, bright eyes following it until they glanced upwards at the other man. "Thank you kindly." Tom spoke, moving to lean back in his chair, his hands crossed over his belly. "If there's anything you're curious about, you can ask me. I pretty much know where everything in this base is. Along with a little bit outside of it." Waving his hand as he spoke-which seemed to be a habit of his-the Medic glanced off to the site, seeming as if.. he didn't want the other man to leave yet. In some sort of way. Perhaps he was not good at conversation outside of business, orders, and things relating to work?


Eugene Jefferson wrote:Gene nodded, keeping in mind that he could go to the Medic if he had any questions. Now that that was all taken care of, though, he thought it best to take his leave. If Tom was anything like him, he'd get no work done so long as someone was around to distract him. "All right. I'll stop by whenever somethin' crops up." He tipped his helm before walking out.


Fun fact: Connal actually was living in the base by this point. He and Tom just never crossed paths until the big team meeting.
(also end)
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