with_discipline | 110

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110 | [Voice]

[Warden Filter]

[Backdated to directly after Pandora things end. T'Pol is in the infirmary; it's poooossible to tell by some of the background sounds, but otherwise it isn't obvious.]

Who is currently in charge of the greenhouse? My inmate is interested in assisting.

[A beat] To the wolf who stopped me: I do not know who you are, but thank you. [This is so weird to say. She really, really hopes it is a person, and not an actual wolf she's talking to. :|]

[Private to Lucius]

I have your wand. I'll return it at the earliest possibility. [Pause. She's tired of the Barge making her do awful things.] I am sorry. I was not myself.

[Private to Trip]

[Can she just think this at you, this whole thing is just so frustrating and emotional and.] Next time, Orions. [Jokes are good, right. :c]

((OOC: T'Pol should be int he infirmary for a bit, so open to spam there!))

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I don't know if I wanna go through that whole thing again on the Barge. Can you imagine what'd happen if we were the only people left to stop all the inmates from rampagin' around destroying the place? [Jokes are excellent. :c]

Given our location, we could try waiting it out.

You speak to wolves now?

Wolves that attack me, yes.

Morbidly - and due almost entirely to the fact that no one he really knew was caught up in it or ended up seriously hurt by the entire thing - Dean has been feeling better since the Pandora thing. He had a small part in it, but he was included in a potentially bad situation, and he won the fight he had. It's a victory he's content to count, and it crowns a month of pretty low trauma, as far as he's aware; not that he's telling anyone that. He just knows it, and keeps it to himself, and lets it make him almost... content.

It won't last forever, but he enjoys it while he can. Which is why he's stopping by the Infirmary to check that the dude he brought here after it was all over is okay, but before he even gets there, he spots T'Pol in one of the beds. They haven't met face to face yet, not as adults, but he recognizes her from the video feeds, of course; their last interaction didn't go so well, but he's not the grudge holder of the family. Even so, two things are true: some of his happy is knocked out of him pretty quickly, and he remembers that she was wrapped up in the possessions somehow. Obviously if she's here, she was hurt.

Sam cared about this woman once. It's not the first time Dean has cared about something by proxy, though he doesn't feel the need to advertise that fact or look at it.

So it is that Dean will wander closer, not quite approaching her, but obviously looking at her. He wants to see how she'll react to seeing him before he actually tries to talk to her - if she reacts badly, he'd rather just walk away than force any kind of conversation. For both their sakes.

T'Pol's attention was fixed on her PADD, though it's hard to say if she's monitoring the network or going over data. It's a moment before she glances up, feeling Dean's attention. Her reaction is mild to say the most; she holds his gaze. Eventually her curiosity wins out, and she arches an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. Their last interaction was not what she would call pleasant by any definition of the word. It takes a moment to occur to her that this is the first time she's seen him in person since his return. Or rather, his arrival.

Dean doesn't make any attempt whatsoever to hide his interest - he wanted her to notice him, and when she gives him permission, he nods back and comes closer. He would normally smile, break the ice with the charm he wields like a weapon, but they're past that; besides, he's still not sure how he feels about this woman. About what she knows.

Instead, when he gets in close enough, he glances at any machines around her bed, then back to her face, considering, tilting his head to a side as well. It's not a smile, but when he speaks, the corners of his mouth keep twitching up in something else: empathy.

"So. You get caught up in all this crazy, too, or what?"

Unfortunately yes. [T'Pol lifted her arm; it was bandaged, a green tint from her blood beneath the linen. There was a hell of a bump on her head, too, but it was mostly hidden by her hair.] Worse has happened here. I think we were very lucky. Were you injured?

[Dean's eyes flick down to the movement, and he feels the reflexive twitch in his fingertips to reach forward to meet her, to see for himself the damage and that it's done up properly. The young hunter is unaccustomed to having unrestricted access to an infirmary with trained staff, so despite having only very basic skills himself, the notion that he should have something to do with patching up injury is both second nature and, in this case, extremely fleeting. It doesn't even take a thought to keep his hands at his sides, shaking his head.]

Nah, but I wasn't... Buffy called me in at the last second to babysit someone and keep them from doing something stupid. I barely had a chance to give it the college try, ya know?

[He's joking again, because it's what he does, but the smirk is mild due to his uncertainty still. He's not looking at it, but that doesn't negate it.]

You gonna be okay?

[The uncertainty puzzled her, but she made no comment on it. Instead she inclined her head in a small nod.] Of course. There was no lasting nerve damage; the skin will heal shortly.

[Another curious cock of her head, and T'Pol arched her eyebrows.] Who were you 'babysitting?'

[Dean nods at the assessment and keeps his hands to himself, dammit, though he's picked up a gauze packet off a nearby tray and is now idly worrying the edges of it with his fingers. He shrugs.]

Dude's name was Hoffman? I haven't actually met 'im. Poor bastard seems to have a critical character flaw for not being himself whenever I get the chance.

[She glances at the packet worrying, but it doesn't hold her attention. Humans seem to give in to nervous habits, and she's usually interested to see which ones do, but this isn't really a note taking time. Instead, she exhales through her nose at his answer, nodding once.]

He has been problematic in the past. I trust you didn't have much difficulty? [He broke her arm, the last time she ran into him. Not a babysitting job she envies.]

[And Dean is more fidgety than most, especially when he's younger; he nods in agreement to her description - he's heard that already - and then more firmly to the question.]

Yeah. He... Not my first rodeo. He tried to choke me but that was about it for the trouble side of things. [He smirks, cocky, but it's shortlived.] He'll be okay - I didn't do anything serious to him and he didn't do anything to me, so this should all blow over pretty quickly.

Not, I hear, always the case.

No. He's proven himself to be extremely violent in the past. It's fortunate you both walked away so easily, this time. [She's been on the Barge long enough to know that almost every situation can be put into perspective with 'it could have been worse.']

Yeah. Fortunate.

[He can't really seem to help being a bit of an arrogant jerk. Endorphin high, or something, though he gets distracted when he accidentally tears the package. Oops. Um. He glances around before he tucks it into his jeans pocket along with his hands, and then shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.]

So um. I know... I was kinda... you know. [He licks his lips and glances away; it's not that he's quite that ashamed of how he acted last time they spoke, he figures he deserves to lose it every now and then, but now it's time to fix it and that might bring Sam up again and he can't control that.] You were trying to help and I was being an ass.

[Her eyebrow arched at the torn packet, then again as he attempted conversation. The pauses alone were enough to tell her where this was headed, and it made her wary. T'Pol wasn't much in the mood to be yelled at again, particularly as she was trying to honor his wishes and avoid talking about Sam.

She drew in a breath to tell him something to that effect, but then he surprised her (not that she would admit it). Tilting her head as she looked up at him, T'Pol inclined her head.] Yes. [She was trying to help, and you were being an ass.] But it was an...understandable reaction. [With effort it was understandable.]

[Dean isn't looking at her to register the surprise - he's looking down at the tray of instruments again, apparently, though his head is tilted so he can see her from the corner of his eye. A moment after she's spoken, his eyes alone flick over to meet hers, and he's uncertain.]

It's just been a lot, you know? I don't... It's been a lot. To try to deal with. All of it.

[T'Pol pauses a moment, studying him. It isn't difficult to think back to when she thought Trip was dead - or, she supposed, when he really was dead. Her first deal had changed everything, including her memories.]

When I first came aboard, it was to save someone I cared for. I understand; these emotions can be...difficult to suppress.

[Instead of commenting on how clinical and detached difficult to suppress sounds for a process he has found anything but, Dean just nods and looks back down at the tray again. He comes close to apologizing, but he can never quite seem to get that between his teeth, and besides.

Just... besides.]

Yeah. I guess. I should let you get some rest, though - you don't need loudmouth upstarts like me poking you while you're down.

[Translation: Dean may be willing to not be an ass, but he's still not willing to talk about it. Probably.]

[T'Pol isn't particularly surprised. She remembers how Trip was after he lost his sister, and how long it was before h was willing to discuss her loss.]

I'm sure Doctor McCoy would agree with you. [She doesn't add 'thank you for coming to check on me,' though she thinks maybe it's the polite thing to do. Some humanisms still don't make sense to her, and while - unlike most Vulcans in her time - she does say 'thank you' frequently, she doesn't use the phrase when she sees no reason to.]

[Dean nods at that - he wouldn't know what to do with a thank you anyway, and it's not why he came over here. Instead he's wondering if he should offer to shake her hand as a sign of goodwill, but that's weird and he discards it for reasons both practical and non; instead he just offers a small smile.]

Alright. Rest up, then, and we'll see you around. I'll uh. Try not to be yelling when we do.

I would appreciate that, [she said dryly, and some of the subtle stiffness in her shoulders began to relax, as if she were settling back against the bed without ever really having sat up. Vulcans were very good with their subtleties; especially their goodbyes.]

[That was not really expected! Technically, Angua is "out" now, but there's a certain ground-in reluctance to be public about the whole thing that makes her hand-write her reply:]

You're welcome. Sorry about the bite.

You were doing what was necessary.

[A pause, and if you listen for it, she almost sounds troubled.] I assume I have nothing to worry about regarding infection?

No. We don't "infect" people. It's ~~herod~~ ~~hared~~ herediterry. [She's pretty smart, but the Ankh-Morpork approach to spelling is typically to throw it at the wall and see if it sticks.]

[Well that's interesting, but she doesn't try to correct it. It takes restraint. :|]

I see. Thank you for the clarification.

You're alrighte now?

I will be. Thank you for bringing my directly to the infirmary. I'm certain it helped things along.

It seemed like the safest optione.

Take care, I suppose.

[She was going to leave it at that, but comes back to it a few minutes later with her question.]

If I may ask, what is your name? [She doesn't think she'll get it, given the text, but asking seems necessary.]

[Her first instinct is not to reply-- but that, she realizes, is silly. She's supposed to be out of the doggy bed now, after all, right? So she reluctantly switches to video and holds up a hand to the camera.]

Angua. Von Uberwald. Er, Captain.

[And there's a face to link with a...wolf. She inclines her head in lieu of waving.]

Commander T'Pol. [Though she assumed Angua already knew her name, she realized that isn't necessarily true, so.]

Yes, I know. [And that seems to be that. She's not sure what else to say about the matter.] Um... good luck with the healing? I'm not sure how long it takes for... whatever you are.

Vulcan. And given the state of our infirmary, I'm sure it won't be long, thank you.

[WTF is a Vulcan?] Right. Well, good luck. [And now she's going to escape before this can be any awkwarder.]

Are you alright?

I could have been worse. It's nothing that won't heal soon enough.

[It could have been.]

I'm glad you will.

Thank you. [She has got in really used to this particular humanism.]

Were you injured at all?

I'm fine. [He's been hanging around the Time Lords.] Did you suffer much mental strain as well?

It was...confusing. As if another entity was supplying actions and reasoning. Fighting it wasn't an option. [Mostly she just never wants to feel like this again.]

As it turned out with me, fighting was only an option when I felt something she had no interest in. In my case, shame. She couldn't latch onto it and allowed me to make my own decision temporarily.

May I ask what that decision was?

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[ Spam ] Derp, I kept missing this tag. :c

[ Spam ] S'okay! I was just trying to wind us down anyway. :)

[ Spam ] \o/ I have just been all over with tags lately. XD

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