𝛃 - 026
[Kat slowly blinks awake, and then immediately frowns. She doesn't remember getting to bed, and it takes her a moment to mentally fish around a slight, throbbing headache for just what she did last remember. Flashing lights, dropping altitude ... she groans at the realization of what had happened and brings her hand up to massage her temples. She'd crashed the simulation Falcon, hadn't she?]
[Probably the last person she wants to see right now is waiting at her bedside.] Welcome back to the world of the living. At least, the world of the aware. You gave us a scare, Kat. Especially staying unconscious that long...
[No, she wouldn't have hand picked Washington to greet her back from something like this, but more because of lingering guilt than anything else. She tries to hide it as she looks at him, realizing she's not alone, before pushing herself to sit up.] How long was I out? [She's immediately looking around for her journal. She had just spent one week in the dark, she certainly didn't want to add to it.]
[Washington sighs. Straight to the point as usual.] Longer than you should have been for just managing to crash a simulation, Kat.
[She glares at him. The last thing she needed was dancing around a subject.] How long?
A few days. Trust me, it's not that major.
A few days? That doesn't sound not that major to me. [She pushes back the covers and attempts to stand, intent on getting caught up again. Her headache flares, however, and she pauses on the edge of the bed.] Everyone alright? York and Delta ... ?
You didn't die, Kat. That would have been 2 weeks. And everyone else is fine.
Two days is still too long, not with what's been going on. Could you get me my journal? Should be in my tac case.
[Washington nods, getting it for her.] Fine, Kat. Just take it easy.
[She takes it from him with a nod, looking a little perplexed.] So how long have you been here?
Filtered away from Riful and her allies, and anyone that might abuse this information
[After setting up the filter, Kat gets right down to writing up a request for those interested in learning how to pilot or man the guns on the Falcon. Halfway through, however, she sort of trails off and starts sketching out mathematical equations and dwaring out little treads and canons.]
[Distractedly, half to herself and half to Washington,] I think I should build a tank next ...
[[ooc: Loss Change! Open journal!]]