with_discipline | 015

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015 | [Voice]

Doctor McCoy, as the week is at its end, I expect there is no argument on your part against my returning to my quarters. Resting in sickbay is no different than resting there.

Severus, I trust you are fully recovered. I find myself curious about the pensieve.

[Private to Sam]

Are you well?

(((OOC: I'm assuming his dying was pretty quiet. She wouldn't be talking to him if she knew he went and killed himself. xp)))

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[Sam lets out a breath, barely keeping what little food he's eaten down.]

I got dizzy. Tripped. Fell. Cut my neck.

On?

[She moves to stand in front of him, crouching gracefully so that she could look at his face.] You are not telling the truth.

[Sam heaves and this time loses the battle against his gag reflex. Quickly he grabs the trashcan from where it's still sitting next to the bed and promptly spills his guts into it. He coughs a little and spits into the trash can.]

Bite me.

[He'd say more, but he's interrupted by another spewing spell and he's bent over the receptacle again.]

[D: Her nose, her NOSE. T'Pol stands quickly and takes a step away, nostrils flaring. She just needs a moment to suppress the discomfort. Worse than dog.] There are those more likely to do so aboard, if that is what you require. [Like she'd understand 'bite me,' really.]

[Sam coughs again and tries to breathe slowly to ease the just sour feeling that is covering him. But, alas, it is in vain. He pukes again, emptying what had been a somewhat full stomach of chicken soup.]

It's the flu. Happy?

[Stop that, it smells awful. D: She looks barely phased, of course, but oh God ugh.]

No. [No one knows a damn thing about Vulcans, do they? She's lifting her PADD to put out a call for help.] I'm asking the doctor to come here.

[Sam looks up from the trash can hurriedly and tries to shout at her but the increased pressure on his barely healing vocal cords ends up emitting a squack from him and he coughs. From the movement of his head, though, he dry heaves again, nearly missing the trash can. He tries to speak and voice is barely a sound.]

No. You can't.

I believe I can, and judging by your illness, you should be in sickbay. I am not certain why you would rather keep yourself in pain, but it is not something I am prepared to allow. [It just ain't logical.]

[Sam grabs the towel from where it's been on the floor for a few days and wipes his mouth.]

McCoy's busy enough. It's just the flu.

[He scrubs a hand through his sweaty hair.]

I've been doing a lot of sleeping and that's just what I need to do right now.

Influenza gone untreated can have severe consequences. [Especially with their backwards ass technology here. She flexes her bandaged hand lightly.] Busy he may be, but he is a doctor; this is precisely what he is here to do.

[Sam looks up at her.]

So I could die and just come back again. I'm terrified.

The fact that the Admiral has that inexplicable ability does not change the nature of death.

[Sam just lets out a sigh before pulling himself back onto Hayley's bed and burrowing back down underneath the blankets.]

So you know I'm sick. You can go now.

[She makes no response, instead moving to a corner of the room to speak quietly into her PADD. It's brief, requesting that Doctor McCoy attend Hayley's room; be glad she isn't broadcasting the info, Sam.]

[Sam just tries to pretend to not hear her. He doesn't want to deal with McCoy right now and closes his eyes, hoping to fall asleep before the doctor gets there.]

[It took a few minutes for McCoy to come, frowning at the fact Sam was in Hayley's room- he wasn't sure he wanted to know the reasoning behind it, even though he had every plan of asking. When he walks in he only spares T'Pol a quick and pointed look before heading to Sam.]

You know we have an infirmary for a reason- can't your superior Vulcan arms drag his sorry hide there? [He looks over Sam with the same frown.] I don't make house calls- what seems to be the problem with you kid? [He pulls out his tricorder as he asks.]

[She spares him the speech about her non-violent people, instead arching an eyebrow at him.] You seem to make them quite frequently, Doctor. How many have you not answered?

[Pausing a moment to glance down at Sam, T'Pol clasped her hands behind her back.] He claims to have influenza. [This tone calls bullshit.]

[Sam doesn't roll over, generally refusing to cooperate.]

[His voice just as hoarse as ever:] It's the flu. She's the one worrying about it killing me.

Edited 2009-11-10 06:44 (UTC)

[McCoy just gives T'Pol another look for that. God damned Vulcans and their constantly being right. He turns back to Sam, holding his tricorder out and adjusting it's settings.]

When you get a medical degree I'll be sure to take your opinion into account. Seeing as I've yet to see any case of influenza or even a common cold aboard this ship I think erring on the side of caution is better advised.

[That eyebrow climbed higher at that look, but T'Pol remained silent, eyes on Sam. She was working hard to block out the scent of the vomit filled trashcan. Ten years aboard a ship full of humans and one dog - who was frequently in need of a bath - should have made it a simple task. If only.]

[Sam makes a grumbling sound as he tries to tug the blankets higher over him. He just wants to sleep, yo. He didn't ask for Vulcans and cranky doctors to come barging in.]

There's a first for everything.

Not tonight there isn't. [He continues to frown, brow furrowing.] I've seen this symptoms plenty of times, it's just like the death toll. [He glances at T'Pol before looking back to his tricorder.] Not only that but you're anemic.

[T'Pol shifted her head at that assessment, and she spared the doctor a brief glance before stepping forward, toward the bed. It was an effort to keep herself from leaping to conclusions - not only that, but keep herself from pulling at his sweatshirt - but she managed.] Let me see the wound on your neck.

[Sam doesn't make any motion to cooperate. He instead pulls the covers tighter around him. He's a little surprised at the being anemic but when he thinks about it, the condition becomes a little more obvious. He did lose all the blood in his body only a couple days or so prior.]

Just let me get some sleep.

Wound? [McCoy glares at her.] Why the hell wasn't this mentioned before? [He lets her deal with trying to get the man to show his neck. Doctor, not wrestler.]

015 | [Voice]

Re: [Spam] LOL. SUPER EPIC.

Re: [Spam] :D Just don'tpuke, Sam, she doesn't wanna clean it up. :|

Re: [Spam] He's got a trash can! :D

Re: [Spam] Small favors. :|

Re: [Spam] IKR?

Re: [Spam] FFFF

Re: [Spam]

Re: [Spam]

Re: [Spam]

Re: [Spam]

Re: [Spam]

Re: [Spam] Can she call in a doctor, or would you rather not?

Re: [Spam] It's totally up to you, yo. Sam'll get pissed if he's taken to the Infirmary though.

Re: [Spam] Mmkay. She wouldn't really put it off long. :< Sorry Sammy.

Re: [Spam] The puppy'll just manage.

[Spam] very sorry sam. your life is about to get so much harder.

Re: [Spam] Grouchy damn doctor.

Re: [Spam] Why hay there McCoy! Also, sorry for my fail.

[Spam] T'Pol get out, you have green blood. And lmao, I edit shit constantly, no shame.

Re: [Spam] Racist.

Re: [Spam] LOL. Racism is always the answer. After violence of course.

[Spam] Hey he's not racist. he loves those green blooded pointy eared hobgoblins

Re: [Spam] RACIST. :|

Re: [Spam] c:

[Spam] racism is saved only for romulans. .. wait

Re: [Spam] Worst space doctor ever. :|

Re: [Spam] Ffffff. Baybeez fix all.

[Spam] cute little hobgoblin.

Re: [Spam] Not allowed to call the children hobgoblins. :|

Re: [Spam] What about the baybeez?

[Spam] Don't listen to T'Pol, hobgoblin is a term of affection. Really.

Re: [Spam] He's insulting the baybee. :[ The DEAD baybee.

Re: [Spam] WAT.

[Spam] TERM OF ENDEARMENT. GO SMOKE SPACE COCAINE T'POL

Re: [Spam] GOD DAMN HUMANS SO ILLOGICAL

Re: [Spam] ILLOGICAL HAPPENS, YO.

[Spam] WORD. HUMANS REPRESENT