mbv, NEST Main HQ, Feelings
Lt. Darby: *wakes up as the other bed in her room is pushed against hers and frowns at the pusher, then blinks* John?
Lt. Wesson: *winks and then turns and walks out of the room to go get that fifty dollars that WO Falcon owes him*
Lt. Darby: *blinks again, and looks across the railings at the other bed*
2nd Lt. Havoc: *still curled up around the heat pack that Dr. House gave him. He's fully dressed, and still has a coat on, though his boots are off as he lays on top of the covers of the bed*
Darby: *blinks* Jean, what 'n the nine psychedelic hells are you doing here?
Havoc: *quietly, doesn't want to get yelled at by Darby after getting a royal dressing-down from the Major* Kinda got the stuffing knocked outta me the other day when I was trying to break up a fight...
Darby: .... You lost a fight. Who between?
Havoc: Greg and everyone else...
Darby: So who got you? *frowning*
Havoc: Greg.
Darby: .... You got took down by a six month old.
Havoc: Seven... and he got Captain Blume too.
Darby: 0.o He jumped on Tad?
Havoc: Nope... *A bit wryly* Just cleaned his clock, and I ran into his fist going the other way...
Darby: *shakes head slowly* How long ago?
Havoc: Couple days ago.... Three maybe? *trying to remember* I kinda lost a day or so, I think...
Darby: You come by truck? *frowning. Thinking Dr. House wouldn't put him on the road that soon after a hit to the head*
Havoc: No.... He gave Lt. Wesson and me something.... Called it a PINpoint, I think...
Darby: ....
Havoc: I didn't hear how it works...
Darby: ....
Havoc: *quietly* I kinda did a dumb....
Darby: If you got here instantly, why're you so cold?
Havoc: *ducking down a bit* Snuck out to have a smoke at the lodge...
Darby: *trying to reach through the railings and slug him as she curses him roundly*
Havoc: *wincing* I already caught hell from the Major...
Darby: Well now I ain't gonna be as easy on ya. *cuss more*
Havoc: *apologizing profusely*
Wesson: *back with a friend from another squad, both look into the room*
Lt. Smith: *raised brow* *Quietly* And you're sure this is a good thing, John?
Wesson: *grins* Sure, we finally got 'em in a room alone and talking.
Darby: *insulting Havoc's genealogy to the nth degree*
Smith: ... If that's talking, I'd hate to hear a fight.
Wesson: *just grins*
Darby: *starts to cry with frustration because she can't reach Havoc*
Havoc: *acks and shifts positions so he can reach for Darby's hand* *more apologizing*
Darby: *presses his hand to her face and cries on it* Fraggin' dumb $#@$@#. Tryin' to do yer bleepin' self in....
Havoc: *gently brushes his thumb against her cheekbone* *quietly and sincerely* I'm sorry I worried you, Rose...
Darby: *sniffs deeply and then tugs on his hand* Get those dang rails outta the way.
Havoc: Lemme have my hand back for a little bit... *intends to lower the rails*
Darby: *lets him go, her heart-shaped face scrunched up with the force of her tears*
Havoc: *Working out how to get the rails lowered, then he's reaching to gently touch her cheek again after scooting a bit closer*
Darby: *wants to snuggle, but is held immobile by the apparatus her leg is in and by a strap around her middle that was put there to remind her not to fidget*
Havoc: *considering look, before he's moving to carefully lay beside her on her bed*
Darby: *tilts head sideways against his chest with a sigh* You stink.
Havoc: I couldn't even get the cigarette lit...
Darby: *sputter* Not what I meant, jerkweed.
Havoc: *quiet chuckle* I know... *gentle kiss to her forehead*
Darby: Dipstick. *eyes closed*
Havoc: *Quiet sigh, is careful as he snuggles against her*
Wesson: *looks at Lt. Smith* Together in under ten minutes. You owe me five bucks.
Smith: Yeah, yeah... Don't forget that you still owe me twenty-five because of Tad and Jenn. *pays up though*
Wesson: I still gotta get the cash Falcon owes me. *looks at his new five* Poker?
Smith: Texas Hold 'Em? *grin*
Wesson: Anybody else awake? *brows lift slightly as his eyes twinkle*
Smith: Falcon, Jensen, Lt. Col. Berkley... *grin*
Wesson: ...Bobby got any new wine?
Smith: *SNERK*
Wesson: *last look at his friends in the room, and then turns and walks off* Alright, let's go.
Smith: You know that crazy Sgt. Pratt's got her Class C license? She said if we ever have poker night again, she'd be willing to deal in exchange for a twelve-pack of soda...*trailing off as he follows Wesson*
((Co-written with random_xtras))