Players:
Summary: Rashmi and Mike pay Jono a visit, and Hank succumbs to good sense just in time to miss being needed.
Date: February 22, 2010
Visiting Hours
Rating: PG-13
Xavier Institute — Medbay
The Medical Bay contains the latest medical equipment to patch up students and X-Men with the smallest and worst injuries. Six beds line the walls for injured patients. Equipment lines the walls, medicine in the cabinets, and more serious medical supplies locked in cabinets. One this about this room it screams sterilization.
"Monitor? As in your location? Yes. But I was talking about being able to monitor your vitals and such, which I couldn't do outside of a lab. Not with any degree of accuracy, anyway." Hank settles into a seat by one of the computer terminals, A moment to focus and then his fingers start dancing across two sets of keyboards at once as he runs some more simulations. He doesn't even have to look at them … sim runs, red vanishes, things looks like they're well…then the Sin-Virus mutates, and becomes deadly. "Oh dear, this one turned infectious…something akin to a influenza…from The Hulk." A nod. "Right. Scrapping that whole line of research."
Looking to Jono he smiles. "Even a failure teaches me something though, and I can't just sit idly by and watch whatever is happening to you happen. I have to try and if that means I don't get as much sleep as I need, well, that's fine too — I can always make up for it once you're well." Frankly, with his stamina he could probably run on caffeine and chutzpah for a week or more.
«I don't have vitals.» Jonothon points out to Hank in amusement. He isn't moving though, curled on his side, eyes closed. Still wearing what he has been for days now, but he at least doesn't smell bad. Can't make the stink other people do. Got to be alive for that. «You say the most fucked up things.» About the virus and the Hulk. «Are you trying to scare me?» Doesn't sound like it's working. If only because he's already pretty damn scared. «And you are still a wanker. Get some sleep, idiot. Dumbest smart guy I know.» Albeit a fond tone.
No matter how bad one's day is, there's always the option for it to get even worse. Precisely how much that line of thinking holds true, of course, would largely be up to Jono's state of mind as the dark-skinned redhead slips into the Medbay, something black and cloth tucked into the crook of one arm. Scanning the area briefly, she heads towards one of the beds near the back of the patient's area, clearing her throat rather loudly. "Um… Sorry, but, um… Is Jono okay to have visitors?"
Music creeping in around the door, much too loud,
Oh, it could've been, should've been worse than you would ever know.
Well, the windshield was broken but I love the fresh air you know.
(The dashboard melted but we still have the radio)
A quick glance through the open door and the music is muted down to almost-audible, as human-looking Mike Drakos peers around to see if Jono is unguarded or if Doctor McCoy has managed to dis-assemble him.
"Hey, can I hazz viziting hourrz?"
Ah, Rashmi is here already, beat him to it!
"After I'm done with this batch of sims…sure, I suppose I can nap for an hour or two while they render." Hank smiles to Jono. "And you do indeed have vitals — they're based on your energy signatures and EM field variances, but they're vitals…of a sort." And then he sighs. "No, I wasn't trying to scare you, that was me thinking out loud." He looks up as first Rashmi and then Mike enter. "Well, yes, he can have visitors." Hank looks…tired. It is pretty likely he's not slept much in the last few days. "Please come in, Miss Franklin." A smile to Mike. "Mister Drakos."
"I was just running some simulations for some potential cures for the Sin-Virus. Little luck there, I'm afraid." He rubs at the bridge of his nose, glasses held in the off hand before he nods. "But I dare say he could use the company."
«You'd better.» Sleep a little while, Hank. «Of a sort he says.» Sarcastic amusement there. The voices have that auburn head lifting. Jonothon lifts himself up enough to look over a shoulder, and in seeing the two, he motions a little laugh. No sound of course, but the action is there. «I'm morally indecent, but I suppose it's alright.» The mental voice is quiet, but laughing. Perhaps a bit too quiet. The Brit then levers himself into a sitting position on the bed, one foot dangling. Not in pain right this moment, he's none the less exhausted from the last few days of little sleep. Hair hanging in eyes, he slouches forward. «Maybe you lot can convince the good doctor to get some sleep.» Jerks a thumb at Hank. The blue guy. Yeah, him.
Rashmi smiles slightly, moving forward to sit out of view of Jono's 'moral indecency,' shaking her head. "Of course I'd like to, Jono… But, if Addison is anything to go by, we'd all probably be a lot less frustrated making sure you stay fed, Dr. McCoy." The last, said to the fuzzy erudite with a respectful nod. "But I haven't seen you since we brought you down, so I hoped you'd not mind the company." Looking down at the black bundle in her arm, she blinks. "…Oh! Right! And I brought you something. …I mean, you're pretty hard to get hospital gifts for… and you'd probably just want to pop any of those silly balloons, and all, so…" The cloth is thrust out toward Jono's head, revealing itself to be a long, thick black knit scarf, probably made from the unstable molecules that the costume machine prefers so much. "…I didn't think you were all that fond of color, so…"
Mike grins widely, and the blue guy can probably feel quite smug about that - the emotive-interface to the image inducer was Hank's work, integrated with the voice module interface.
"Hey, Dr. McCoy, the voice isz working great!"
He didn't bring a gift, as such.
"Hey, Dr. McCoy? Our squad is meeting tomorrow morninng. You want me to bring my bike thisz time?"
"I will, Jono. Just need to finish this latest series of simulations. I have to give Sinister credit, this thing is quite clever, but I /will/ break it." One can't really argue with determination like that. He welcomes Rashmi and Mike in, and laughs at little as evenr Rashmi gets on him. "Actually, I just ate a little something." Which in Hank terms is a lot. And then he rubs his neck as he admits. "And yes, feeding is easier than getting me to sleep." A chuckle at the scarf. "Technically black is either an absence of light, or in the case of printing the result of blending together all the other colors." A thoughtful nod. "He's rather morose, I'd stick with the lack of light myself." Yes. He's teasing.
Hank then smiles to Mike. "Glad to hear it, to hear YOU. Any issues at all? No glitching, or effects?" He winks. "I could add reverb so you sound sepulchral…"
Presented with the gift, brown eyes go wide as he finds it thrust at his head. «…» Still, that was merely reaction for the delivery method. The gift itself has Jonothon pleased. «Thanks, gel.» Warmth in that as he gently takes the thing and runs it over his hands to feel the knit. «I like color just fine.» Still quiet though, and with that he drapes it over his shoulders. «On other people.» A bit of teasing there.
Draped in yet more black, he lifts a hand to give Mike a greeting. «Sounds great there, Mike.» Hank gets a dull glower, but nothing else. Jono honestly doesn't mind being teased.
"Sorry about that… but you *did* say you were indecent, so…" Rashmi shrugs, pleased that her gift scored so well. "I just thought maybe you'd like something besides that face-stocking you use, you know?" Settling back in her chair, she blinks sharply, realizing she'd just indirectly badgered the science teacher, X-Man, and sometime Avenger. "Er, um… Sorry, Dr. McCoy. Just, you know, we're worried about you too."
"HAH!" Mike says. Well, at least it's not the horrible gargling-gravel noise that happens when he plays actual laughter through the voicebox.
"Careful, candy-stripe girrl, you'll get demerits for Ravenclaw."
He winks and then replies to his advisor, "I'm fine with the way it isz, unless you want to alszo unlock my induzer and give me that Grim Rreaper that Jamezz was doing the otherr day."
His induced expression is positively evil glee with that not-quite-seriously offered proposal.
"Jono will wear black until he finds something darker." Hank states with a fond smile for the Brit. It should be noted that he's coding with two keyboards at the same time as he's bantering with those present. Hank waves off Rashmi's apology. "It is very likley that I need to be reminded from time to time, I tend to get a little…focused." Like now, he's chatting and everything but his brain is going miles a minute.
"Here…let me see the inducer…" Hank takes out a multi-tool, then does some arcane stuff to the image inducer. "There, added preset 452, give it a go." If he does Mike will find his appearance has been altered — to that of Astro Boy! "And yes, bring the bike if you'd like."
«Morally. Not physically.» About his being indecent. «No scarf can't remedy that.» Yet, Jonothon is pleased with his gift and leaves it on. Too tired to do much of anything anyway. «Don't sweat it, gel. When it comes to not eating or sleeping, you're allowed to harass him.» Promise. In Hank changing the inducer, Jono eyes Mike. «You better not try what James did.» Namely come into the medlab and start looming over the sick there. «I'll have him take away your voice box.» And he can do it too! Well, maybe.
So, too, does Mike get the silent stinkeye from Rashmi about James' stunt, with added nose-wrinkle regarding House Ravenclaw. "Cute, Mike, very cute… I swear, you and James should be separated sometimes… before summer starts, you watch, there'll be a critical mass of prank. And then the Headmaster will explode." A sage nod given. "It's true. Because, you know, Science."
Mike tries 452 immediately of course, and laughs when he sees it. Yeah, you get the gargling-gravel noise this time.
"No wai," he says in a deliberately high pitch, "Gosh, Doctor Tenma, I wouldn't do Thaaat!"
He looks over the character, not QUITE real-looking which is even better. He muses, "I might have to try this one on James tomorrow." (And which muse is the muse of practical jokes?)
"You've morals? When did this happen? I Never got that memo." Hank teases Jono as he finishes up his inputs. "There, now it will take about ninety minutes to render." And if you think about the computing power at his disposal…yeah, that's some serious rendering going on! Hank peers at Jono. "Bah. You really shouldn't give out blanket permission to harass me like that." He's not arguing the necessity, just the permission…there's a difference! He can't help but laugh as Mike seems so delighted with 452. "If you're /really/ bored, try preset 626." Oh yes he did, STITCH! "Still, I gave Jono my word that I'd nap for a bit. Miss Franklin…wake me in 90 minutes, mm?" And with that he lays down on an exam bed, and seems to be out like a light.
At about this time the doors to the medbay *swoosh* open, and a very wet, very half naked Doc falls through the door, landing on his knees, clutching his right shoulder. Judging from the swim trunks and the spreading puddle of water around him it looks like he went out for a late night soak in the hot tub. He looks to be in some considerable pain as his legs finally give out and he topples over.
«I'm good at keeping secrets.» And that he is. Even the ones that shouldn't be secrets. As for giving blanket permission, the Brit shrugs. «You deserve it, mate.» Glad that Hank is going to sleep, the man is amused at Mike's new image and Rashmi's reaction, but forces himself not to fall out of bed in order to rush over and help Doc. One because he'd sprawl on the floor if he tried, and because the way Doc's moving, Jono suspects that isn't really Doc.. and he so totally is never touching «Sklyer!» Still not loud that. «Mike.. Rashmi.. get him to a medbed?» Hank's out, so that leaves him. «I can't touch him.»
Ever so carefully he slides off his own bed and moves to another so that he can access the controls. If Skyler is put in one he can get the painkillers working at least.
Astro-Boy Mike sprints right over to Doc… but something makes him think, "That's not Doc."
Perhaps the undignified way he sprawled, or possibly the tattoo is revealed, or even Jono's mental outburst. He's not gonna touch that thing, even if Jono's not contagious. And Mike's probably the safe one to lift him onto the bed otherwise, because he's not so likely to turn into Mike. No genes to copy!
So the robot boy lifts Skyler onto a medical bed.
At Skyler's dramatic entrance and subsequent collapse, Rashmi is out of her chair as quickly as if she'd been stuck. Two jogging steps are taken toward the prone, soaked copycat, but it's about that time that she remembers what's likely to happen if she tries to help carry him, and screeches to a halt, instead hurrying toward the supplies cabinet for towels. "*Won*derful timing, Dr. McCoy," she mutters, shaking her head, though makes no move to even attempt to wake the fuzzy blue genius. "Skyler," she says as she hurries back, voice raised in case pain or Sinister's tinkerings or whatever else is keeping him from hearing well, "are you awake? Can you hear us?"
"Awake," manages Skyler through deep breaths as Mike picks him up and takes him to the table. "Dammit it hurts," he manages.
«I'm about to fix that.» Jonothon tells Skyler as the medical bed kicks in. Knowing all about pain, he's struggling to remain upright himself, but it's not due to hurt. Just being damn tired. So he's frowning as he works the controls, making mistakes here and there. Those are corrected and finally Skyler can get some relief. «Christ.» It's started on others too. Damn. «Sorry, mate.» With that he returns to his own bed and crawls back into it. «Doc or Hank can take a look at him later.» Not much to be done now.
The moment Jono's done setting the Magic Fixit Machine do do what it can for Skyler, Rashmi's there with armfuls of towels, dab-drying the stricken mutant as best she can, a deeply worried frown on her face. "It'll be okay, Skyler," she says, for lack of any other help to offer. "Dr. McCoy's already working on a way to beat it… And he and the Doctor can help keep it from hurting too much, okay? Just lie back, try to rest…"
Mike watches Jono with an expression of grim cartoonish exasperation. "You should NOT be doing that, Jono, we can push buttonsz for you."
He steps back to let Rashmi blot and considers. Setting 626, huh?
Skyler sighs in relief as the pain killers set in. "Oh, thank God," he says, eyes rolling heavenwards. "It's been hurting a lot lately, and I heard that Jono was down here. I think being Doc is the only thing that's kept it from being as bad." After a moment of relaxing in the pain-free drug addled haze, he finally notices how careful Rashmi is to not make skin contact with her drying. "You don't have to be that careful," he says. "I've got control over my power."
"I know," comes the gentle reply, as a sodden towel is exchanged for a fresh one. "But you're also in a lot of pain… and now you're drugged, and if you didn't notice you're not wearing a shirt, you know?" An amused smile, given to Skyler as she sets about her work. "Thanks, Jono," she calls over her shoulder, "but yeah, Mike's right… don't get out of bed again unless you want to be tied back down with that new scarf, okay?"
It's just a push to the left, and a flip to the right. 626 it is. Buh! This is just wrong. The image inducer is doing its best to make Mike seem to be 3 feet tall, and the optical distortion makes everyone else too tall.
RESET!
Mike is the human-looking Mike again, now. That was … disorienting.
"I'm not?" asks Skyler quizzically at Rashmi. He looks down at his bare chest and giggles. "Ohyeeeeah, I'm not!" He blinks blearily at the ceiling a few times before pronouncing. "I'm so goddamn high right now. I think Jono overcompensated for Doc's healing factor."
"Or he was a little too addled himself, and didn't realize you had it? There," she says, stepping away from the bed and gathering up the towels to be dumped into the laundry bin, "You should be mostly good for a blanket… I'll get you one." As Mike turns, briefly and dizzyingly, into Stitch, Rashmi does that I-must-be-hallucinating squeeze of the eyes, then shakes her head with a sigh. "…Mahalo means family," she says, in a passable-but-poor imitation of the little creature on her way to the bin.
Mike laughs, "Hah! that was so weird. You guys were all so tall. I couldn't see over the table,"
He remembers something of the instructions from Jono about automatic-calibration for his own settings, and goes to an empty med-bay to test it. Because, worst possible outcome? Trying to lower the dose a little might take it all down completely.
"I'm checking to see if I can tell it to adjuzt your doszage for pain, Skylerr," he says
"Okay," Skyler says to Mike, his eyes heavily lidded as the drugs are causing him to be drowsy. "I think I'm gonna take a nap." But before he falls unconscious he reaches out with a hand and weakly grabs Rashmi's wrist before she turns away to grab her attention. "Hey, Rashmi? You're okay. I'm sorry I thought you were a twit." And with that he passes out.
Rashmi blinks sharply, spinning around to first make sure Skyler's skin isn't growing any darker. Given her initial focus, it's a moment or so before his words register, and it's with confusion she watches the boy slump back onto the pillow. Blinking owlishly, she turns to look at Mike, befuddlement writ large on her face. "…I'm a twit?"
Mike snorts, "Beware the stoned and drunken revelationsz."
He pokes two "soft buttons" on the medscanner over Skyler's bed and a green light is lit. Green is good, right? It _should_ be the one that tells the scanner to stop the pain meds short of an overdose.
Rashmi blinks again, looking back at Skyler, brow furrowed. "…Huh. I had no idea…" With a shrug, she stoops to pick up the towels, trotting them back to the bin. "So the Magic Fixit Thingy won't be getting him stoned again anytime soon, then?"
A robot-classic exaggerated shrug, looks a bit overdone on the still-human-looking Mike. "Stoned, maybe, dead, no. Itz a safety cutoff. Jono showed me back when I wasz getting my hands baack."
"Ah," Rashmi says, nodding slowly. "That's good, at least. I'm hoping that the first-aid class Mr. Guthrie's holding will show us how to work that even halfway properly… But, you know, I'd rather have the important stuff first." It's difficult to say, whether Skyler's comment is actively bothering her or just blew right past her multitrack train of thought. "I'm glad you have an idea, at least."
"That remiinds me. You should watch this," and Mike returns to the empty bay he was poking before. He resets it (there's a sequence worth knowing.)
He then goes through the standard power-and-start sequence, up to a point.
"This is where you press the #1 for you guyz and #5 for me. If I get wrecked? Remember #5 keeps me alive."
Rashmi blinks, jogging to follow Mike, watching the sequence closely. "Okay, um… one more time? I just want to make sure I saw it right."
Mike repeats the sequence. It's pretty simple, all in all, allegedly designed to be done by grunt soldiers with no medical knowledge. Alien soldiers. With feathers instead of hair. But do we dare believe Jono's explanations?
Rashmi nods slowly to herself, moving over to the bay next to Mike's, to practice. "…Mike?" she says after a brief silence, pushing not-quite-buttons in faltering, if accurate, mimicry of what Mike had demonstrated, "Do you think I'm a twit?"
Mike looks over at Rashmi, with a "WHAT, are you NUTS?" expression: eyebrows drawn up, eyes narrowed, mouth pursed. All an excellent illusion.
"Uh, NOoo, I think you're a Paladin, you'd have to be a regular Cleric to be a twit."
SOMEONE appears to have been working on his D&D or something.
Rashmi blinks, mouthing 'paladin' to herself, clearly missing the point. "…Um. No. I mean, seriously, do you? Because I don't mind if it's the truth. Just, I want to know, you know?"
Mike sighs. "Rashmii. A twit isz someone who doesz stupid things for stupid reasonsz. You only ever do stupid things for very smart reasonz. That makes you… not a twit, I dunno what. Someone who doeszn't knnow the reasonz might jump to connclusionz."
He would definitely punch Skyler for that remark except it wouldn't work with Skyler in happy dreamland.
Rashmi nods slowly, brows furrowing. "Ah… I get it, I think. But, I can see how it'd look to most people. I mean… I'm sort of having a hard time thinking in a straight line, anymore. It's like… I could be worrying about Jono, and reviewing tomorrow's chem exam, and thinking about Frodo sneaking into Mordor, and wondering if I got the recipe right to give to Cam… and then someone says something, so that's like a whole new thing to think about, only I can only *talk* about one thing at a time, you know?"
Mike shakes his head. "No not at all, I don't run virtual serverz in my head."
He does, sortof, but they're not conscious so that doesn't count.
Rashmi purses her lips, trying to get the concept across. "It's not like that…. I don't think. What's a virtual server? Anyway," she says, shaking her head. "It's like… you know how people say train of thought? Well it's like, two or three or five trains, all running next to each other… only when the switch goes off for the Talk line, only one of them can go at a time, so they have to race, sort of."
Mike nods. "You're happy, you live in a spliit level heaad."
He figures Rashmi can look up 'virtual server' herself.
"Or is it 'a train of thought goes from Sacramento to Reno in ten hours' instead?"
Rashmi blinks again, tilting her head. "Um… not… really. Just, I don't know. I'm saying I can understand why I'd come off as a twit, is all. And, Skyler's hardly a mind-reader… well… unless, you know, he copies one, then happens to see me, then he probably would be, but not really the point. He doesn't know what's going on in my head, and I'm not about to be mad at him for it. I was just… curious, if that's how it looks."
And Mike is about ready to strap Rashmi to one of the beds and pressing the "emergency diagnosis" sequence, but that one requires a higher authorization than he has. SO useful that.
"OK, Rashmi," he says, "By the way did you eat yet?"
Rashmi pauses, looking up from her pad. "….I *knew* I forgot something," she mutters, flushing deeply. "Sorry… just with chem, and Zack, and Jono, and Skyler, and Dr. McCoy…" She trails off, shrugging.
"Yeah, you should eat szomething soon."
Mike kinda resents now that Chris is back, and Cam is here, because not being able to eat. OK, add it to the stack of stuff given up for Lent and pretend there might be a big fat Greek feast in 36 days.
"Probably," the redhead admits, tapping the sequence one more time onto the empty bay's display, smiling brightly as everything looks exactly as it had on Mike's. "Wonderful, now I don't have to be scared if you get hurt!" Skirting around the empty bay, she gathers herself to the robot teen in a tight hug, for her at least. "I don't even have to feel better. Thanks so much."
Mike grins, tentatively. Big sis is being very strange. VERY strange.
He returns the hug carefully and makes a mental note to tell Hank about this trains of thought thing that Rashmi was talking about. Cause no television judge he's ever seen would put up witha a lawyer doing that three different things at once thing.
Rashmi blinks a second, brow furrowing. "That… made a lot more sense in my head than it probably sounded… I just meant, I'd feel a lot better, but I wasn't worried. Only I won't be worried even when I'd have to… oh, forget it. I think I really do need to eat, worse than I thought. Sorry, Mike, I'm probably sounding halfway to crazy."
"No, three-quarterz. But I could kinda follow," Mike answers. "Annd this is a new thing, you might wannt to tallk to the traiinersz."
Rashmi nods, frowning at herself. "I think I do… I'm sure I've never sounded this out of it." Her frown deepens, and she shakes her head. "I'll get something to eat, then sleep, I think. I've gone off on tangents, but… never quite like that… Thanks, Mike. I'd rather you let me know about this stuff, honestly, than just about anyone else. James or Lucas would probably lie about it, most of the others would just gloss it over and probably say I'm sort of a moonbat to each other."
Mike smiles. "Nah, it's OK. I'll wake Hannk up when it's hisz time. You go eat. And, Six is the moonbat. And now I wonder if he reads Punch N' Pie."
Rashmi chuckles, nodding. "Thanks. I mean that. ….Anyway, I should stop finding excuses to stick around here, Or I'll probably be the next one needing a bay." With a last, sunny smile, she turns to the door, hand lifted on a casual farewell. "See you in class!"
