Who: Rex, infirmary staff, people who want to visit him, etc. BASICALLY, OPEN Where: Infirmary lol When: After getting his ass beat by a child Warnings: References to violence? Use of painkillers. Uhhh, that's should be it.
Kevin had been out for a run. He was coming back, tossing and catching his disc and he walked into a war zone.
What bothered him the most was that he was getting used to it. He was starting to get used to it. Tro-no. Rinzler and now he was getting used to it.
He needed to get out. To do something. He wanted a good game of football and his inmate was fighting him at every turn and there in the corner was a communicator.
He picked it up and examined it quickly before putting it in his pocket. This guy Rex was somebody he didn't recognize. Putting it in his pocket, he headed to the only place where people had some kind of authority going. The infirmary.
"Hello?" He called out. He tossed his disc again and caught it. Turning, he put it in the holster on his back, "...Anyone here? I'm looking for someone to turn this communicator in with...it belongs to this guy named Rex..."
Thanks to the haze of painkillers and grumpiness, Rex initially ignored Kevin's call for a "guy named Rex." He was sitting up in his bed, trying (and failing) to read a book, his horrible protein-and-other-stuff shake sitting neglected on a tray placed over his lap. After a beat, it seemed to click with him, and he blinked and leaned to the side to get a look at who was calling his name.
"'m--" he started, trying to keep his jaw clenched, but that didn't quite work. "I-- ah!" With a hiss of pain, he shut his mouth again, then looked around and... picked up a spoon and threw it in Kevin's direction to get his attention.
Kevin has the attention span of a golden retriever. However, that means he has the attention to detail of a golden retriever, so when the guy in the bed waves he takes a step back before starting over.
"...You look-"
Don't mention the beating, "...Bar fight?"
He does not know you Rex. He's a programmer. Even programmers get into bar-fights.
Rex scowled and shook his head, then reached over to grab his notebook, jotting out:
No. I was beaten up by a kid.
The drugs made him a little more loose-lipped than he would typically be. Also, his hand writing was sloppy as hell. He held it up for Kevin to see, then added:
The Doctor, after dealing with his inmate and a few checks in on Rex while he was stirring, decided to wander over beside of Rex's bed and have a seat.
He was having a hard think about things. And he was irritated. But he was glad to see Rex wasn't damaged irreparably. Had he death tolled, he still wasn't sure he wouldn't revert to his scarred state.
He smiled at the scientist weakly. It flickered away almost immediately. "Would you like anything?"
Rex offered the Doctor a half-hearted smile in return, although it was obscured a little by the straw sticking out of his mouth. He was finally trying to suck down his meal, even though he wasn't hungry and the whole "eating through a straw" thing called back a lot of bad memories of his long and grueling recovery from the blast.
He reached over and grabbed his notebook.
Real food.
Then offered another brief smile to show he was joking. Unlike last time he had to communicate like this, his spirit wasn't crushed. Physical damage aside, all that was really hurt was his ego.
Poor Rex. He hoped this would heal up soon. "I'll get the bone healer at some point. It's harder to use on skulls, but I wouldn't want your jaw wired shut for that long."
And then, just to make him feel better, he pulled out his journal and handed it to Rex to show his private entry. Just so Rex would know that people still cared, and were willing to re-enforce the consequences of inappropriate actions.
Iago hadn't known about any of this until later. He hadn't heard anything and, well, those were the consequences of keeping to himself so much. But once he knew where Rex was, he went straight to the infirmary to him, seething. However, it was nothing but impotent rage. He knew that he couldn't do anything about it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.
So he stood uselessly there for a few seconds before he put a hand on Rex's uninjured arm.
"You look like shit." He might as well start out the evening being honest.
Rex rolled his eyes and fixed Iago with a look. He started to open his mouth to speak, then winced and shut it, opting instead to write on his notebook.
Rex shifted slightly so that he was a wee bit closer to Iago, then nodded. No need to write out "yes." Teasing though Rex was... he was being a little serious. He was an exceptional vain man, even as a scarred-up "freak," and the bruises to his face were upsetting. He didn't even want to look in a mirror.
Not too long after Dick's post announcing the incident, talking with his own new inmate and making sure everything was alright with T'Pol (so really, about a day after everything had happened) Trip had downloaded a couple good scifi and some arguably not as good horror films onto a PADD and headed over to the infirmary to check on Rex, who he knew was probably miserable and angry about the incident.
Not that Trip could really blame him, but Rex's version of being angry was a lot different from most people's, and occasionally involved stabbing people with science projects. Although really, Trip hoped he was moving away from.
He headed over immediately, holding up the PADD and smiling sympathetically when he saw his friend's injuries.
Rex sat up a little, not expecting Trip to show up. He didn't exactly want people to see him like this, bruised and beaten like he'd just "fallen down some stairs," but on the other hand... the painkillers were making it exceptionally difficult for him to read, do recreational equations, work on his robot arm schematics, so... The company was welcome. His mouth quirked a little in a friendly smile in lieu of a verbal greeting. Then, he pointed to the PADD and arched his brow, as if to say, "What did you bring?" It wasn't that he couldn't speak right now, so much as every time he did... anything with his mouth, it aggravated his fracture. He'd give it a few days before he tried speaking more than absolutely necessary.
"Couple movies." He held up the PADD to read off the list. "Alien, Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman, The Day the Earth Stood Still, Journey to the Center of the Earth, Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein, Son of Frankenstein, and Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein." In case it wasn't clear, Rex, Trip likes Frankenstein films. His warden item was even a model of the monster.
"I can grab some different ones if you want," he said, handing it over to Rex. "Wasn't exactly sure what you'd be in the mood for."
Although Jurassic Park seemed like a bad idea after the most recent port. Admittedly, they'd both gotten out pretty unscathed, all things considered, but it still seemed a little close to home.
His eyes practically lit up as Trip started reading off the movies. Sci-fi? Horror? His favorite genres! Granted, Rex tended towards body horror, psychological... but he didn't mind the classics. Unfortunately, meeting the real Victor Frankenstein dampened the love he had for the films. A shame, because he totally had a childhood crush on Frankenstein's Bride.
Rex set the PADD on his lap and pulled out his communicator to start typing a message to Trip, since he found it a lot less frustrating than trying to write with his left hand.
alien was my favorite movie when i was 5.
So, it was tempting...
but i've never seen 'attack of the 50 ft woman'
Oh, how he missed being able to type with two hands. Or... do anything with two hands. And it'd only been a day. He couldn't imagine how much more frustrating this was going to get.
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What bothered him the most was that he was getting used to it. He was starting to get used to it. Tro-no. Rinzler and now he was getting used to it.
He needed to get out. To do something. He wanted a good game of football and his inmate was fighting him at every turn and there in the corner was a communicator.
He picked it up and examined it quickly before putting it in his pocket. This guy Rex was somebody he didn't recognize. Putting it in his pocket, he headed to the only place where people had some kind of authority going. The infirmary.
"Hello?" He called out. He tossed his disc again and caught it. Turning, he put it in the holster on his back, "...Anyone here? I'm looking for someone to turn this communicator in with...it belongs to this guy named Rex..."
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"'m--" he started, trying to keep his jaw clenched, but that didn't quite work. "I-- ah!" With a hiss of pain, he shut his mouth again, then looked around and... picked up a spoon and threw it in Kevin's direction to get his attention.
Rex wasn't really thinking clearly right now.
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"...You look-"
Don't mention the beating, "...Bar fight?"
He does not know you Rex. He's a programmer. Even programmers get into bar-fights.
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No. I was beaten up by a kid.
The drugs made him a little more loose-lipped than he would typically be. Also, his hand writing was sloppy as hell. He held it up for Kevin to see, then added:
Commm-- journal??
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He was having a hard think about things. And he was irritated. But he was glad to see Rex wasn't damaged irreparably. Had he death tolled, he still wasn't sure he wouldn't revert to his scarred state.
He smiled at the scientist weakly. It flickered away almost immediately. "Would you like anything?"
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He reached over and grabbed his notebook.
Real food.
Then offered another brief smile to show he was joking. Unlike last time he had to communicate like this, his spirit wasn't crushed. Physical damage aside, all that was really hurt was his ego.
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And then, just to make him feel better, he pulled out his journal and handed it to Rex to show his private entry. Just so Rex would know that people still cared, and were willing to re-enforce the consequences of inappropriate actions.
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He wasn't quite sure he liked the sound of that. Rex shook his head and added:
not wired. just hurts. chewing and talking hurts. will be fine in few days.
He took the communicator and looked at it, arching his brow a little, then he handed it back to the Doctor.
won't matter. nothing makes a dent in his thick skull.
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So he stood uselessly there for a few seconds before he put a hand on Rex's uninjured arm.
"You look like shit." He might as well start out the evening being honest.
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supposed to tell me i'm still attractive.
dick.
Enjoy Rex on painkillers, Iago.
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"Would that make you feel better?"
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Not that Trip could really blame him, but Rex's version of being angry was a lot different from most people's, and occasionally involved stabbing people with science projects. Although really, Trip hoped he was moving away from.
He headed over immediately, holding up the PADD and smiling sympathetically when he saw his friend's injuries.
"Thought you could use some entertainment."
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"I can grab some different ones if you want," he said, handing it over to Rex. "Wasn't exactly sure what you'd be in the mood for."
Although Jurassic Park seemed like a bad idea after the most recent port. Admittedly, they'd both gotten out pretty unscathed, all things considered, but it still seemed a little close to home.
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Rex set the PADD on his lap and pulled out his communicator to start typing a message to Trip, since he found it a lot less frustrating than trying to write with his left hand.
alien was my favorite movie when i was 5.
So, it was tempting...
but i've never seen 'attack of the 50 ft woman'
Oh, how he missed being able to type with two hands. Or... do anything with two hands. And it'd only been a day. He couldn't imagine how much more frustrating this was going to get.
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And when he does, he'll wake up with a note deposited on his nightstand.]
I've told him to take responsibility for anything he did, but we both know that in practical terms this can't be the case.
You deserve something, but it isn't this in particular.
Recover.
- A
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