After a day or two of nursing a hangover, and several days of writing up the patient care plan for Glitch, and another day or two of attempted woodworking, Dr. Beverly Crusher had had it with the tropics. It was at least something that she hadn't ended up sanding her hand off--she was used to places with limited economies, but there was always a
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One arm hung a little limper than the other, but not noticeably so. "Not bad," he appraised.
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God, and Cain was one hell of a Boy Scout.
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Gods, the pain was bad. It was a miracle he was on his own two feet. It was right then that Cain wished, for a brief moment, that he had Raw there rather than Glitch.
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"And he usually doesn't remember long enough to be frustrated."
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